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  1. Omnipotence

    m/m My roommate is a god (parts 1 - 4)

    Hello everyone. Long time viewer/reader, first-time writer. A little nervous about it, so any and all constructive feedback is welcome! This part is really only meant to be a taster of sorts. I'm 110% open to change. Let me know what you think; super excited that I'm finally contributing! Without further ado: __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Part 1: Tom was hovering in midair. He casually motioned his hands back and forth, as if he was conducting some sort of invisible orchestra. In reality, he was using his telekinesis to clean the living room effortlessly and in record time. Empty pizza boxes were pulled upward by an invisible force where they were instantly vaporized into nothingness. Stains off all varieties were simply removed from existence. Empty soda cans were melted into liquid form, which was then dispersed into the surrounding atmosphere. And throughout it all, Tom wasn't even looking at any of it. He was staring absentmindedly out the window. Such was the ease of this godly display of power that he didn't even need to devote his full attention to it. I simply sat and watched his nonchalant display of power with my usual awe. I suppose I could've helped, but how the hell is a measly little human like me supposed to add to this?! Within a minute of initiating the clean, Tom was finished. He turned in midair, hover over to the couch, and lowered himself down onto it. "All done" he said with a smile. His voice was impossibly beautiful and sexy. A deep baritone, masculine voice. "Thanks" I said, trying to pretend I wasn't intimidated my his godhood. Probably wasn't working though. Tom could just read my mind if he wanted to. "Want me to send you to sleep now?" Tom asked, his remarkable blue eyes filling me with a sense of comfort and safety as we made eye contact. I knew what he meant, and what he intended to do. With my mouth instantly going dry, and my body shaking from anticipation, all I could do was nod feebly. Tom stood up, walked to the center of the room, and turned to face me. With a simply wave of his hand, all of his clothes except for his form fitting, jet-black briefs disintegrated. His godly muscles were on display. Tom was 6'8'', and when he wasn't altering his density of using his flight power, he would normally weigh around 300 - 320 pounds. I began working my way down. His shoulders were massive. Powerful, rippling masses the size of cinder-blocks, with prominent traps that my whole hand could just barely cover. His pecs were next. Each one was the vision of perfection. Slabs of concrete; almost perfectly square, beefy, and large enough to cup. Like everything else, they rippled. He bounced them effortlessly, yet could also make them rock-solid at a moment's notice. His whole chest: 60'' His arms were of a similar make. Massive, 25'' machines that I've seen lifting impossible weights. Veins running through them, looking like steel cables, running down into his formidable looking forearms. His biceps and triceps were equally beautiful. His abs were the definition of beauty. A rippling, rock-hard eight pack, where each individual ab was arrogantly prominent, and the deep cuts that ran between them only emphasized how sculpted they were. Although I couldn't see if from where I sat, I have seen his back. His perfect, v-shaped back. Powerful mounds and ridges of muscle covering it all, guiding you slowly to his 33'' waist. And lets not forget to mention the glutes that it leads to. Two bulletproof hemispheres of pure muscle (and no, I'm not exaggerating). His legs put tree trunks to shame. 31'' thighs corded with titanium veins, towering above 24'' diamond-shaped calves. All of this balancing on bizarrely beautiful, size 15 feet. Of course, as a god, Tom's whole body was free of all forms of blemishes and other such imperfections. His skin was smooth and supply; an easily missed detail on account of the muscle that lay beneath. At the moment he had no body hair, although he could if he wanted to. But he wanted to make sure that I could see every striation, every subtle flex as clearly as possible. And so the light dusting of hair that sometimes coated his chest and forearms was willed out of existence. "Ready?" he said, smirking. I would try to describe the beauty of his face, but I don't think the necessary words actually exist. I gulped. Without taking his eyes off of me, he bounced his pecs. It was effortless for him. All other parts of his body stayed motionless; only his magnificent pecs moved. Their dance became increasingly complex; the two mounds moving to a rhythm like no other. Sometimes they bounced in unison, sometimes one at a time, and sometimes they alternated. My cock was as hard as stone. Suddenly, without warning, Tom tensed his abs. My description of them before described them in a non-flexed state. Imagine now what they looked like. Pre-cum soaked my pants. I hadn't even touch myself yet. And I knew I wasn't going to. Tom hit me next with a double biceps. Their peaks! If he had flexed just a bit harder they would've sent out a shock wave. His most muscular was next. His pecs... I began to convulse; my cock couldn't contain my arousal anymore. I came. He made me, without either of us touching it. Such was the beauty of his body and face. He smiled sweetly at me as I slowly began to lose consciousness from the strength of the orgasm. With a single hand and arm, Tom grabbed a fistful of my shirt's collar and smoothly lifted me from the couch. My 5'9'' frame dangled pathetically as he held me at arm's length with such ease. He bent his arm as he slowly brought me in from a kiss on the forehead, still holding me in the air all the while. His other arm simply hung at his side. Throughout all of this, my cock was still sputtering out small amounts of cum, dampening my already soaked underpants and jeans. "Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning" he whispered in my ear, as I finally lost complete consciousness from the orgasm. I passed out at the end of Tom's arm; he still held me as if I weighed the same as a balloon. The last thing I remember was the feel of my own feet dangling in the air. My arms hanging limp at my sides. My chin brushing the side of Tom's hand that gripped my shirt's collar before my head fell to the side. My whole body rendered weak and useless from the hundred orgasms Tom caused me to have in the space of a minute. I loved that feeling. My name is Frank, and this is the story of how I came to meet my roommate Tom. Who, by the way, happens to be an actual god.
  2. LionBUff

    m/m Hanging Herc (full trilogy)

    p1 Homul walked down a dark path behind the town's pub towards a cave deep in the mountains of Greece. The path leads to a farmer's house on the other side of the mountains, but there was a special spot along the trail Hormul was after. A dimly lit cage-like door with the words "Firen Flight" greeted him. The door was covering a cave entirely lit by touches that were at least half burned out. A tall man in a Greek shoulder uniform holding a clay tablet guarded the gate door. "May I come in," Homul asked. The intimidating man looked at his tablet to think about his answer. Homul was worried that the Firen Flight wasn't as secret as he hoped and that he would be told to leave thanks to the crowd. He desperately hoped this wasn't true, he desperately needed a break. A friend of his told him how to get to the secluded Firen Flight deep in the mountains and told Homul that it was his favorite way to relax his mind. The man looked down at his tablet and saw that the Firen Flight was well below capacity. "It's pretty slow tonight, go ahead," The guard told Homul. Homul was so excited that he almost tripped over himself walking in. He walked down the dim cave and turned a few sharp corners before walking into a small room. The room had a wooden stage held up by clay on the further end of the room. Between him and the stage was about 6 round tables with no more than 4 men at each. This room was even dimmer than the cave leading to it, the only bright light came from a single hanging lamp on stage. The rest of the light came from tiny torches on the tables. Homul sat down and ordered his food and drink while he waited. Soon, an announcer walked onto the stage and told the room of men that a special guest was going to appear shortly. Homul's order came, and he enjoyed it... at least half of it. Homul was just a little over halfway done with his meal when Hercules himself walked on stage, looking even more muscular than usual! Hercules was wearing a cloth outfit that looked like a traditional Greek warrior's outfit with everything but the helmet on. Hercules' orange hair swung around in front of his face as he walked to the center of the stage. Homul noticed how little the covering worked when he saw a dim outline of Hercule's abs and chest. When Hercules was comfortable with where he was standing, he rested his unnaturally large arms beside him. "I spend all day using this body to fight off enemies," Hercules said bouncing his chest. "All-day, all I do is fight fight fight." Hercules lifted his arms and flexed his biceps while his chest continued dancing. "Well, gentlemen, this body isn't just built to fight." Hercules lowered his arms and rubbed his abs. The creases in the fabric stretched over every curve on his stomach. "These abs aren't just pretty, they can thrust my waist forwards so fast that my pelvis can pound into solid rick and shatter columns holding up the greatest temples." Hercules spent the next minute or two exaggerating his strength. He said that his chest could squeeze a lemon dry in the deep muscular valley, his legs can squat buildings and that his arms could pull a boat on land. As Hercules described his power, Hormul's mind was filled his visions of Hercules thrusting into buildings. The thought of his pelvis crashing and banging into things made him zone out. Hormel's visions faded when Hormul heard a tearing sound. The tearing was so loud that Hormul almost thought the cave was falling. Something else was falling instead Hercules' hands were resting behind his head, his elbows sticking out in a position that displayed everything below them. Hercule's hands were nowhere near his waist, yet the cloths around his waist were tearing off like an invisible hand was yanking it towards them. The fabric stretched outwards and split open as it did its best to keep the growth contained. Hercules wasn't just getting hard, he was sprouting a golden tree coated with wide and long veins. Hercules closed his eyes and clenched his teeth to help him concentrate on flexing his godly cock. The covering became a useless pile of thread resting along the top of Hercule's dick. The fabrics that remained were shaken off thanks to the golden and veiny rod dancing and throbbing, shaking everything off. Anyone with blurry vision would have assumed a snake was slithering out of Hercules' body. "It's getting a bit warm in here," Hercules cried out. He grabbed the top of his top covering with his right hand and the bottom with his left. He stretched both arms out away from the shirt, the left arm stretched down and the right stretching up. His hands brought the shirt with them. The ripping noise was a battle cry challenging any man to a battle of manhood. Seam by seam gave way to Hercule's strength. The shirt was like a curtain drawing back to reveal a gorgeous new sculpture honoring the gods. Only, Hercules was more muscular than the statues. His abs popped more, along with every other fiber of testosterone Hercules possessed. Pre was already dripping onto the floor into a white puddle. "It's so hot in here, I'm even sweating through my cock," Hercules joked. The crowd chuckled, unable to take their eyes off of the swinging utter of sperm hanging from Hercules. "anyways," Hercules spoke in a low and steady soft voice, "I'd rather show you what this body can do. Talking means nothing with a body beating this much testosterone in its veins." That line was the cue for a boulder to be rolled out on stage by thee assistants. "Let's lighten the load for the fine boys," Hercules suggested walking over to the boulder. p2 Hercules set both feet on either side of the boulder and pressed the head of his cock against the rock. Now that the side of Hercules' body was facing the audience, Homul could see the full length of Hercules' dick. Homul guessed that his cock had to be at least three times longer than his own. He could strap a full-sized horse cock on his body, and the only difference would be the color and the fact that his cock had a human shape. The size and veiny texture were the same for both Hercules' cock and a horse's cock. That and Hercules' balls were noticeably bigger. Homul couldn't help but wonder that if Hercules' gentiles could rival that of a breeding horse, how did his hormones compare? Was Hercules' as horny as a breeding horse? Was he filled with the same animalistic desire to spread his seed? Just like the sound of the tearing of Hercules' clothes, Homul's visions and fantasies of Hercules' body were faded out by the sound of ripping. Only this time, Homul wasn't picturing Hercules thrusting into stone on a building, he was watching Hercules thrust into stone right in front of him on stage. Somehow, it was even hotter than he imagined. Hercules' cock was ripping a hole into the stone like his head was an ax. Hercules didn't even look like jamming his dick into a boulder was painful, he was smiling like he was casually thrusting into any another mate. Dust and sand flew everywhere as Hercules pounded his body into the stone. With each thrust, Hercules dug slightly deeper into the rock. His balls swung around vigorously. No one in the audience said anything. They were soaking up the site of Hercules proving how masculine he was. His ability to rip his clothes off with nothing but his cock seemed like a simple party trick compared to this. When half of the harder than rock cock was inside of the boulder, Hercules speed up his thrusting. Homul didn't realize how slow Hercules was truly hammering his body into the stone until now. Hercules was swinging his waste faster than a tree branch in a storm. With each stroke his cock's head made inside the tunnel, it was digging, an eruption of dust flew out of the hole like a small explosion. A faint humming of sloshing filled the room. Homul didn't know if the wet-sounding humming was coming from Hercules' sweaty cock rubbing against the stone, or the sperm in his utter-like sack slapping against the inner walls of his testicles, or both. "If I could," Hercules calmly told the audience, "I would use my body to fight off our enemies. If my body can drill a hole into a rock like this, imagine what it could do to an enemy's skull! I could grab their head and slam it against my throbbing flesh. Their head would shatter into a thousand pieces!" After Hercules said this, the final few inches of his cock entered the stone. When all of his cock was inside, Hercules calmly inserted his cock into the hole he drilled and rested against the rock. Hercules breathed in and out, and leaned his arms on top of the rock, and Homul assumed this was the end of the show. "That was fun," Hercules said, "But it's still a bit heavy, isn't it?" Hercules pulled out, then hammered one final powerful thrust into the rock. A thunderous cracking sound echoed around the room, and the stone split in half. The two halves of the rock fell, revealing Hercules' cock standing there throbbing like nothing unusual was happening. Hercules grabbed the bottom end of his cock with his left hand and the top end with his right. "Ow," Hercules smirked. The audience quietly laughed. The men from earlier came back on stage and picked up one half of the stone as if it were a simple piece of furniture and carried it off stage. They came back to move the other half of the rock, leaving Hercules alone on stage. Once Hercules had the stage to himself, he quickly stretched a few muscles and turned back around to face the audience. "We know how hard my cock is, but how strong is it," Hercules asked the crowd. That was the cue for 4 full-grown men to walk onto the stage. Each of them were wearing classic Greek Armour, including the helmet. The 4 men, one at a time quietly swung their legs over Hercules' cock as if they were about to ride a horse. Once their bodies were standing over Hercules' giant flesh, they all picked their feet off the ground at the same time. Hercules held the 4 men up with nothing but his cock. His throbbing pole of meat held their weight effortlessly. Hercules even placed both hands behind his back to show off the fact that he was holding them up by only his enormous dick. "How many reps can you do," one of the men asked. Hercules clenched his teeth and flexed his dick, the men rose and fell with his cock. "One," Hercules said through his clenched teeth. Hercules flexed his cock just over 60 times before he told the men that he was getting bored. Hercules was bouncing the men on his pole for nearly 10 minutes, so the men were getting bored too. Hercules showed no sign of tiring out, so they just decided that Hercules could keep bouncing them all night and left the stage. When Hercules had the stage to himself again, he lifted both arms and flew his biceps. His biceps were massive. His left bicep had one singular vein sticking out of the top. "I already know how strong my arms are... but how strong is my body below my arms? Not my abs, my balls. How strong is the pressure behind my ejaculation? How far can I shoot a load?" Hercules kept his left arm flexed and used his right arm to point to the back of the room. A man is the same Greek Armour as the other 4 men was holding a Greek vase above his head. "Maybe this far," the man suggested. Hercules lowered his arms, placing his left hand on his balls and his right on his still-hard cock. He jerked his foreskin and measured the distance between the end of his meat and the top of the vase. "Maybe," Hercules said, "but I'll need help if I'm gonna make it that far." Two men walked out onto either side of the stage, both of them brought a small wooden stool with them. Each stool was slightly shorter than Hercules' waist. Both men sat down cracked their knuckles while Hercules rested his arms on their shoulders. "Ready," the man on the left asked. "Fire away boys," Hercules cried out. The man on the left grabbed Hercules' dick with both hands and jerked it so hard that the rubbing of the foreskin against the rod underneath sounded just like a small waterfall. The other man grabbed each testicle in each hand and squeezed the like a cow's utter. Hercules moaned, nearly losing control of his voice. He knew the men were going to do this, but he was still taken away by how aggressive they were. It didn't take long for pre to drip out. "Here it comes!" Hercules positioned his waist upwards so that his imminent ejaculation would shot towards the ceiling. Hercules felt weaker and weaker while his body braced. White liquid dripped from his cock very slowly for a few brief moments. It dripped out slowly, one drop growing on the tip until it was heavy enough to fall. The next round of pre drizzled out in small bursts. One small load after another flowed out, each load heavier than the load most men carry in their entire sack. Next thing Homul knew, a white arch stretched across the room so far that it 2 feet went past the man holding the vase. White raindrops dripped from the white arch creating a white line on everything underneath. Hercules was ejaculating with so much strength that he wasn't just shooting further than even he expected, but the stream of his seed was one solid river soaring over everyone's head. For more time than anyone could count, Hercules spewed seed with more force than a backed-up volcano. A large portion of Hercules' male milk missed the vase, yet it was over half full when Hercules finally stopped ejaculating. The two men massaged Hercules, assuming that eruption was painful. "Round two," Hercules asked the crowd. p3 The next night, Homul walked back to the Firen Flight only to discover that the previous guard, along with Hercules, weren't there. "Sorry little dude," the new guard told Homul as he hung his head in disappointment. Homul was so disappointed that he could almost feel his meat crawl into his waist from being so turned off. "he'll probably be back tomorrow," the new guard told him with a reassuring grin. Homul grinned back to be polite. "Thanks," he said and walked away. Homul's feet felt heavier as he dragged them back into town. He walked through the dark countryside of Greece remembering everything Hercules did on stage with little to no effort. He could hear all of the men in the room cheering Hercules on. In fact, he really could hear someone scream Hercules. He thought it was all in his head until the screaming and cheering for Hercules became too loud for him to ignore. these screams weren't in his head... they were real... but where were they coming from? they weren't coming from his own horny mind, they were coming from someone's horny voice outside of his mind. Homul followed the soft and muffled screams to a river hidden deep in the Greek mountains. The sound seemed to be riding inside the mist rising from a waterfall upstream. The waterfall was loud, but the moans of Hercules' name were louder. Homul walked up to the waterfall certain that they were coming from under the waterfall. "Are you ok," a voice that sounded like Hercules asked from under the waterfall. "I've taken centaurs dozens of times," a voice that reminded him of the guard from last night responded. As Homul snuck up closer the voice continued with "but they feel like tiny fingers compared to you... ok... wow... that's way bigger than anything I've ever taken before!" Something interrupted the voice's train of thought. He could barely get one word out. Homul was now so close that he could see a torchlight from under the water. He discovered that the light was coming from a tunnel under the waterfall. The tunnel walls echoed the heavy breathing of who he assumed was the guard buried under Hercules. "The centaurs might be half horse but they aren't half god... are they?" This confirmed that he was truly hearing the voice of Hercules echo out of the tunnel. "No... they, they, they aren't," the other voice chocked up. "I can feel the difference... centaurs are softer than this!" "How hard can Hercules get," Homul asked himself. "I can see the difference too... your head is poking out and rolling up and down my stomach like a boulder is rolling around my insides!" This was too much for Homul to ignore. He quietly walked into the cave to see this rolling bulge for himself. when Homul cut the corner of the cave he realized the guard wasn't kidding. The two men were on a cheap and quickly-built looking bed, and you really could see Hercules poking through like a ball rolling up and down his skin. The shadows created by the dimly burning torch on the wall behind the bed defined the moving lump in the guard's body. Homul slowly hardened as he watched. Hercules was in the outfit he was most famous for, but the loose bottom half of the outfit did next to nothing to keep Hercules "contained." Hercules was wearing his usual covering, yet, somehow, Homul could still see his balls flapping around. His sack reminded him of clothes drying on a windy day... they were thrown around all over the place. Were his testicles bigger than before? They seemed to be covered in more veins too. Homul assumed his cock was even veinier too, but he couldn't be sure because it was deep inside the guard. "I'm really, close... I'm sorry," Hercules apologized in a sincere voice that was still erotic. "We've been here for a while," the guard said shocked. He took a few more breaths and said "How have you not cum already? I would have cum three times by now!" Hercules was clearly about to say something, but his ejaculation interrupted him. Homul could hear Hercules' cum slapping against the guard's stomach. The bulge in the guard's stomach grew so plump that it covered Hercules' cock completely. His stomach rose and rose as Hercules seemed to have no limit. How much sperm can one man hold? His balls were huge but they didn't look like they held THAT much. When Hercules finished, he rubbed the guard's swollen belly to calm him down. The guard's face was red, bright red, but he was still grinning. The guard loved every last sperm cell filling him up. He felt a million degrees warmer... like he swallowed the sun whole... and he loved it. "God's can't impregnate men right?" Hercules laughed without answering. "Maybe," he said. Hercules pulled his cock out and let his load flow out of the guard's hole. His stomach flattened as the cum poured out like white molasses. "What does that mean," he asked Hercules with a shaky voice. "It's happened before. A god's seed is so strong that it can fuse with the sperm of another man and breed just as much as it would breed a female. "Ok," he said, "I would love your offspring inside of me anyways. If I do get pregnant, I want to breed an army with you. We could impregnate the land with warriors like you impregnate me. "Don't have to tell me twice," Hercules said gripping his testicles... as if to say he wants to breed that army right now.
  3. LionBUff

    m/m MUSCLE MATING: The Fruitful Filling

    MUSCLE MATING SQUIRT "I should have never taken that bet at the gym" Oliver, a 300-pound bodybuilding male deer, thought to himself. "Come on Oliver. What are you scared of? Big bucks like yourself can't be scared of a challenge!" It's my fault for listening. I could have left that locker room long before I dug myself into a hole almost as deep as this monster is digging into me. But I just had to prove I was bigger than Magno. That half-orc half manotaur hybrid beast was huge, but I didn't think he'd be bigger than me. Bucks like me are huge, our male figures are seen as thick veiny trophies to all who lay down with us bucks. I guess I'm not the biggest after all. SQUIRT 15 inches was 3 inches too short. When Magno and I agreed "smallest would bottom" I never expected any man to ever pack an 18-inch cock between their legs. I guess that orc manotaur mix got both specie's huge dick genetics. SQUIRT Now he's at my house... stuffing me like a jelly donut. What makes this worse is that even his loads are bigger than mine. This male has already squirted 10 squirts in me and hasn't stopped thrusting his 18-inch dick into me yet. I don't even think Magno has slowed down. It hurt at first, I felt like a telephone pole was being shoved up my core, but all that lubrication from his 10 squirts has made things a lot easier. SQUIRT 11 now. That squirt had to be the biggest yet. I felt that squirt up in my chest that time. I want Magno to think he's only a little more manly than me but even I couldn't breed like this. I'm sure I would have cum all the water in my body by now and this stallion still has cum to spare. I can't lie to myself any longer, he makes me look like a twig. SQUIRT. That one hurt. That squirt drizzled the back of my throat. I only felt a few drops splash against my throat but I didn't know his load would go that deep into me. Things are about to get a lot worse, aren't they? He's grunting a lot more now. His hands just tightened their grip on my legs. I can feel his cock throbbing faster now. These 12 squirts were only pre? Ok, he's slowing down now, what does that mean? Wait, I can feel his rod shaking, why is it shaking so much? WOSH It felt like all of the cum he had left blew out of his dick in one burst that was strong enough to shake my bed. I don't know how much cum he dumped into me but It was enough to make me feel like I gained 50 pounds. His sperm swam through every limb and every joint. Magno's seed is basically my blood now. I wouldn't be surprised if my body has more of his seed than my own blood. This doesn't worry me though, I can't imagine how much pure protein and testosterone I just soaked up. By this time tomorrow, my male hormones will be through the roof. This much male milk might even help me gain a few inches. It would be amazing if this cum can all swim down to my own cock and swell me up. Maybe next time Magno can dock me and make my balls bigger than my head. If I soak up this genetically gifted male's seed regularly I bet I could gain some of his genetics. I bet his protein could make my muscles unstoppable. "That was fun," Magno said holding my legs above me. "Are you done already," I said teasing him. "You couldn't dump half that much cum if I hooked you up to a milking machine!" I laid there for a few seconds to catch my breath before I clapped back. "Maybe I can if you keep filling me up like this," I told Magno winking. "I might have to," he told me winking back. Magno set my legs back down so that my knees were on the edge of my bed and he leaned down. Magno put both arms under my shoulder blades, put his head down next to mine, and squeezed my chest into his. He gripped my muscles into his muscles like my buff body was his new body pillow. I was exhausted from being flooded with his seed, but I managed to build up the strength to hug Magno back. "I'm glad you took up that challenge," Magno whispered. I thought he was being sweet until he said "I knew I was bigger and you proved it. Now all the guys in the locker room will stop asking!" "You're only bigger by three inches," I reminded him. Magno laughed and gripped my body again. I gripped him back. We fell asleep in that position. As I laid there under Magno's boulder-like body, I felt trillions of sperm tails swimming around my body... all swimming towards my chest. The liquid from the seamen felt like it was soaking into my muscles as the muscles extracted the protein and testosterone from Magno's slimy meal, but I could very clearly feel the sperm migrate to my chest. The muscles that absorbed the liquid felt mostly normal when they swallowed his gooey flood, but my chest felt like it was swelling up. There were so many sperm cells piling up in my chest that it felt like his seed was fertilizing my chest muscles. A noticeable lump began to form on either side of my chest that grew bigger as more sperm swam up my body to join in. Did Magno impregnate me? Was this alpha male's sperm so strong that it planted his offspring in me? As I laid there, feeling his sperm grow bigger in my chest and countless sperm cells travel through me, I thought about why they would gather in the chest. Then I realized that the chest, especially one as solid as mine, was actually the perfect spot on a male's body to grow offspring. The chest muscles are huge and can swell up without getting in the way of the male's daily life. Multiplying in the arms or legs would strain a male's body too much, and the abdominal muscles were too small. The chest made the most sense, and it was where Magno's sperm gathered. As Magno laid on top of me, wrapping his stiff muscles around me like a warm blanket, his solid body reassuringly held my muscular body. If Magno did impregnate me, this massive male was ready to multiply with me. He liked me, that was obvious, or he wouldn't be holding me so close. He probably would have at least pulled his cock out before he slept on top of me, if not slept next to me instead of on top, for that matter.
  4. quickquezzed

    penis-growth grUV

    So, this is my very first story. Thought I'd crack one out, while I'm waiting for my new job to start. Strangely it's more cock growth orientated than muscle growth, as muscle-growth was my original fetish. But there is muscle growth, and should it be worth continuing, there will be plenty more! So, please give constructive criticism and/or praise. Mainly praise. Basically just tell me it's awesome. But honestly, any feedback is appreciated, and should I have enough interest and then time, I may try to continue it. Title may be confusing: grUV - pronounced "groovy". Short for growth: ultra-violet. Which is a teaser for the basis of the growth. But enough waffle, here is: Chapter 1 Wow. What a night. I awoke with a slow grogginess that so often accompanies a night out clubbing down the bay with Dave. Thankfully we don’t have far to walk back, as he has a boat out in the harbour, docked out at sea. Nevertheless, the fact you have to use one of the numerous row boats to row out to it is always hilarious, especially when you’re as drunk as we were. “Ok?” What. I stared blankly, my eyes trying to focus, and take in what had awoken me. “I said, I’m rowing back into harbour to get some food for us all from town.” “Us all?” I croaked back. “Yeah, you, me and Brad.” “Brad?” “That guy I tried to introduce you to at the club. I’ve always said he can crash on the boat if he doesn’t feel like getting the last train back to his place. Looks like he took me up on my offer again, and rowed himself over at some point last night.” Dave explained. I had a vague memory of the cabin door banging open, and waking me in the middle of the night, and seeing a silhouette of a man, as he flopped onto some cushioning on the other side. I couldn’t remember meeting anyone specific at the club, we talked to a lot of people, and all I saw last night was a biggish shadow fall onto the bed near me, I couldn’t make out any discernible features. Nevertheless, I was in no mood to push for details, so simply responded with, “Cool”. “Yeah. He’s already up and gone for a swim. Maniac. Anyway, I’ll be quick as I can, but be nice. You were definitely too out of it to properly get to know him last night.” With that Dave went to the stern and hopped overboard into one of the two rowboats tied to his boat. I lay a while longer, grabbed a bottle of water, did a few stretches, and after a few minutes, felt well enough to venture out of the cabin and into the summer sun. I was just wearing underwear and shorts from last night, so I felt the heat of the sun immediately on my body. It was nice, but blinding. When my eyes adjusted, I looked out to the water, and caught sight of what must’ve been Brad swimming pretty fast back and forth. I took a seat at the starboard side of the bow, so I could face out to sea and watch him. After a few minutes he paused, and looked over to the boat. I gave a very unenergetic wave, but he responded, and began to make his way over to the boat. He heaved himself up onto the boat and for the first time I got a good look at him. The size of the shadow I glimpsed last night did not do him justice. The water trailed off his traps as his torso rose ever higher as he hauled himself up. He gripped the railings harder and pushed himself up, two triceps exploding to life as he did. He then swung a massive leg over the railing, and it landed with a heavy splash on the decking. He flashed me a smile as he began pulling himself to his full height. He had short dark hair which flowed beautifully into full stubble that lined his masculine jaw. His skin was a glowing olive, all of which offset a pair of blue eyes that sparkled like the sea that was still dripping off him. I watched a drop slowly begin descending from his neck. It travelled down the valley between two meaty pecs, and I continued to follow it as it meandered between his six abs. As it fell further, my eyes landed on his crotch. He was wearing just a red speedo. It was dark but shiny from having just been in the water. It looked a size too big for him, being quite wrinkly rather than hanging tightly on him. I assumed he was a bit of a modest fellow who didn’t want to draw attention, or maybe he lost weight recently. But I couldn’t dwell on my thoughts much longer, as he was standing fully upright now, had turned to face me, and said “Hey Stranger, the name’s Brad!”. I introduced myself and gestured for him to sit down just across from me on the other side of the bow. This gave me a great view of him as he sat down opposite me. He leant back against the railing, lying at almost 45˚, exposing his muscular torso to the sun. He brought up his left leg onto the cushioning and leaned his left elbow on it as he supported his head, commenting on how he was still feeling the effects of last night’s drinks. His bicep flexed and bounced up and down as he rubbed his head. His arms were huge, certainly the biggest I had seen up this close, I reckoned at least 18 inches. I empathised with his hangover, and we spoke about what we did remember from last night. He was quite a talker, but I was happy to listen. His pecs heaved when he laughed about the antics he got up to. The drips highlighted how defined and cut he was. I felt I was staring for ages. It must’ve been a while, because the sea water was beginning to dry, and left his body literally glinting in the sun. His speedos were also beginning to look lighter in colour, and I noticed also less loose. This caught my attention, but I wanted to be subtle. I kept directing open questions to him, and only answering with a yes or no to him, so he was soon lost in his stories again. I stole glances down every time he looked away, or closed his eyes to try and remember details of his night. I was right, his cock was definitely growing down there. The wrinkles of the suit began to disappear as a bulge began to form at his crotch. I could begin to see the shape of his dick as it slowly lengthened and filled the speedo out more. It also looked like his balls were expanding too, as the material of lower part also straightened out. As he rambled on, he continued to get bigger down there. His cock was lengthening and thickening; but now with the suit clinging relatively tightly to his new size, the material stopped any further advancement forward. I swear I could see the bulge kink and bend round as it still tried to thicken. This is when it suddenly dawned on me that he wasn’t getting hard. I theorised his genitals must have shrunk down a lot from his swim in the cold morning water. And now he was just warming up to his natural impressive size. However, the misshapen slowly growing bulge looked uncomfortable; and it must’ve been, as while he was still talking, he very nonchalantly pulled the waistband away from his body and bucked his hips. His cock lurched forward and down as it unfolded and grew into the new available space. As he let the speedo snap back onto his body, it now hugged a very impressive round sexy bulge, perfectly filling the perfectly-sized tight red suit. I figured he must be a healthy 5 to 6 inches soft, and pretty thick. Which was quite a pleasant unexpected growth from the initial practically non-existent bulge from his chilly willy I first saw. I was sure this was the case; nevertheless, I decided to test my theory. “How was the water?” I interjected when he finally wrapped up his current saga. “Not gonna lie mate, it was pretty nippy. Sun’s barely had time to warm it at all. Although an ice-cold blast does wonders for the hangover.” He replied. Well the sun had had time to dry him up nicely, and was now reflecting off the salt crystals peppering his chiselled torso. He was a sight to behold, and now that his crotch had stopped growing, I was finally appreciating the rest of him. And there were a lot of bulges to appreciate as they rippled from time to time soaking up the sun. “Why, you thinking of going for a dip?” He said as he stood up to get a bottle of water from the cooler Dave had on board. I watched as he rose to his 6’2” height. Turning sideways to walk across in front of me, I saw his big ass and quads tighten and marvelled as the big red bulge jiggled as he stepped. In profile it was clear just how sexily prominent his bulge was, its heft tugging on the material, showing it was in control, not the other way around. As he spun round to return to his seating position, again with one leg up, giving the bulge breathing space, I finally responded, “Perhaps I will in a bit. As you say, it might help with the headache”. “You a strong swimmer?” He continued. “Yeah, actually, in fact I was captain of my school’s swim team.” I said. “No way! Me too! Well when it wasn’t rugby season.” He replied. We began to converse about our various sporting endeavours at school. The conversation being much more two-way now that I wasn’t trying to ogle him. That being said, after several minutes, I did steal a glance down again. Seeing as he was almost displaying his bulge in that open position, it might seem weird if I keep avoiding it. My eyes quickly flicked back up to his, as I responded to his latest inquiry about which athletic events I preferred. My mouth ran off some generic answers, as my brain was pondering once again whether his speedo package was looking larger than before. I began stealing more regular glances. It was hard to tell. But when he went for a swig of water, tilting his head back, I decided to grab a longer look. I watched, it was hard to discern, but I swear I watched the whole round bulge slowly push the speedo further out as it enlarged. His head came back down, and I made sure to meet his gaze as he let out a refreshing sigh. Now, that I was curious again, I resorted to my initial tactic of getting him monologuing, so I could keep tabs on what appeared to be an ever-growing package. As he answered my barrage of questions, I was able to keep peaking down at his red speedo. I couldn’t stare long enough to visibly see any growth in action, but evidence came in another form. I started to note that wrinkles were beginning to reappear in the suit. Whereas before, the wrinkles suggested a speedo too large for him, these taut lines represented quite the opposite. Initially it was just two. Two lines stretching from each side of the suit to the middle, fading as they reached the flesh-filled pouch. However, with each glance, more wrinkle lines would appear. Four. Six. As the round bulge swelled bigger and pushed forward they continued to appear. Eight. Ten. Twelve! Again, as I was only glancing briefly, I could not see the growth, but on my most recent peek, I clocked that his bulge was almost in line with the end of the cushion now. There were soon too many wrinkles to count, and I noted that there didn’t seem to be any more room for more to form. Additionally, more of his legs were being exposed at the sides, as all the material was being pulled forward by the expanding bulge. He certainly seemed oblivious to all this going on, still chatting away about how much harder it is to play team sports outside of education. I didn’t know how much longer he couldn’t notice for though, the speedo seemed stretched to the limit. Then I heard it. It was hard to make out, as big Brad was still nattering on, but I heard what sounded like finger being dragged along the surface of an inflated balloon. I knew it must have been the fabric of the speedo straining after even more growth from his monstrous package. My theory was confirmed when my next cheeky glance down revealed that a space had been created above his muscular thighs where the material was now lifting away, pulled by what had to be about 9 inches of thick cock. I returned my attention back to Brad, had he not heard it? Apparently not, as he was still mid-sentence and continuing on like nothing happened. However, a few seconds later, I heard it again; and more prominently, as it fell between two words Brad was uttering. Brad continued speaking, but I saw a flash of shock appear in his eyes, and while talking he finally brought his leg down, and leant forward, trying to obscure my view of his bigger bulge. It worked briefly, my attention was now on his hefty pecs, making a muscular cleavage in this new hunched position, but I looked down again, and could still make out the bulge, which was now in line with end of the cushion on which he sat. Brad’s sudden fear and shift in posture must have meant he was aware of what was happening. I looked back into his eyes, waiting to see if he was going to acknowledge this weird occurrence. But he continued his story, finally finishing with a question to me. “Umm,” I murmured, then paused while I tried to actually think of what he had just asked me. But in that silence, the sound of the speedo stretching happened again. With no voice to mask it, it was clear, to us both, what had just happened. I looked to him, and we shared an intense eye contact, still in silence, still gazing into each other’s eyes. Suddenly, a huge, loud and long, fabric-wrenching sound was emitted from his crotch as the speedo strained ever further. I couldn’t help but stare down, as I was now able to clearly see the dreamy round bulge surge forth and begin to overhang the seat. It was growing so big, stretching the speedo, making it paler in colour. “Umm,” I began again, “Are you okay?” I naively asked. Brad slowly and simply leant back against the railings, and spread his legs, allowing me a full unobstructed view of his almighty size. He then grew again. I was unabashedly ogling his growing crotch. The sight, coupled with the sound of the fabric slowly losing its fight to his beastly dick, was such a turn on. “Yeah, I’m very okay.” He replied, almost laughing “You okay?”. I leant back too, “Yeah, maybe too okay!” I joked as my new posture revealed my tenting shorts. Brad laughed. “I wish I had known you were gay, I wouldn’t have been holding back otherwise!” His words were followed by three short bursts of rubbery stretching sounds as the tip of his bulge juddered bit by bit closer to the ground. “Holding back?” I questioned, “Wait, you’re not getting hard right now?” Brad laughed again. “Does this look hard to you?” He said cupping his giant package with his right hand. The round shape and way the bulge moved as its huge size overflowed his hand told me he was indeed still soft. “N.. No.” I stammered, “Bu…but, how?”. “Well, I’m guessing Dave’s suncream isn’t as water resistant as it claimed.” I stared blankly. Brad continued to explain further. “It seems when my body soaks up the sun and makes vitamin D, well, it really makes vitamin D.” His emphasis on the ‘D’ was complimented by another audible strain from his speedo, as his cock probably entered double figures in length. “Basically, when UV light hits my skin, it seems to make another hormone, as well as vitamin D, that goes to my dick and starts to make it grow. My balls too. The more light, the stronger the sun, the more skin exposed, the faster it happens. So, on a summery day like today, when I’m wearing only this, and haven’t got any protection on, well…” He trailed off, gesturing towards the now pinkish tight speedo barely containing an ever growing mass of meat. It grew again, this time the straining noise sounded a little different, almost as though a few of the fabric’s threads were beginning to snap. The change in tone made the tent in my lap bob a little higher. Brad smirked as he saw my cock trying to grow like his, but failing. He adjusted his position, rocking his hips slightly, and I gazed in awe, as the huge soft bulge continued to jiggle for a couple of seconds, which then reminded me, “Wait, you said you were holding back? …What did you mean by that?” “Yeah, you’re cute. I was trying to not get turned on. But seeing as you like…” He paused, and I heard a similar sound to the one just before, as I saw his cock jump a little, “perhaps I should stop resisting”. Suddenly a big straining sound was emitted, accompanied by some definite tearing sounds, as I saw a hardening cock shape surge forth. I could make out the outline of what was cock and what was balls now. Both hugely impressive sizes. Brad grunted and bucked his hips, and I could see the difference the erection was making to his genital growth. His cock was growing far faster than his balls as he got harder. The thick rod was pressed up against the ever-thinning material, so tight that I could make out the patterns of the veins on his dick. Especially as they continued to grow from both his arousal and his unique UV-absorbing condition. Brad moaned as another bout of rubbery straining and ripping sounds emanated from his crotch as the cock tried to lift away from his body as he got even harder. It was beginning to throb, and each pulse was accompanied by a ripping sound. I watched in lustful amazement as I saw holes beginning to appear in the speedo to the left and right of this mountainous bulge. Numerous ripping sounds continued as those strained wrinkle lines tore open into holes, allowing the speedo more slack. But it still wasn’t enough, as Brad’s cock quickly grew to fill the extra room. He was getting so big and hard, it looked around 14”. I could see most of it, as the base was exposed as his cockhead had pulled the waistband well away, and the speedo was more holes than material now. It was throbbing fast, and seemed to struggle to make that final growth it needed to burst free. Brad put both hands on the railings behind him, closed his eyes, leaned his head overboard, and then thrust. I watched as the base of his cock thickened substantially, the swelling then spread in a wave up his shaft, finally reaching his tip, which thickened too, adding that little bit of length so that a huge pop was heard as the speedo disintegrated into shreds, and a huge thick cock slapped up against his quivering abs. Brad was breathing fast, and I was dripping pre, having watched that sexy spectacle. But it wasn’t over. In fact, I guess even more skin was exposed now to the sunlight, which would only increase his growth. His cock pointed straight up and was thick and rigid, now at full mast. But as I suspected the growth continued. I watched as his two apple-sized balls seemed to fill, his cock was nudging up a little higher with each throb, hard to notice, but I could see. And very soon it drew Brad’s attention as the head dug into his pec shelf. He opened his eyes and looked down. Acknowledging the problem, he sank back down onto the cushion, and grabbed his shaft with his left hand pulled it away from his body. Fuck he was thick, his grasp not even close to encircling his cock. He then looked towards me, and pointed his cockhead in my direction and asked, “Want a taste?”. I didn’t even answer but simply moved across to him, took his monster in both my hands and pulled his cockhead into my mouth. It was a tight fit, but incredibly arousing. I slowly pulled my lips back off it, wetting the entirety of the head. I then used my tongue to lick all over his slit and glans, while my hands worked up and down what felt like a telegraph pole. I then eased the head back into my mouth, and began rhythmically bobbing my head up and down. I could feel him sliding past on all sides of my mouth as his fat head pounded the back of my throat. God, he was filling up all the space in my mouth. I then remembered he must still be growing, despite me shading part of his body. I decided to pause and hold everything in place, just so I could feel this miracle. At first, I couldn’t sense any growth. But I moved my hands together so they formed a ring around his shaft, and soon I noticed how his cock was slowly expanding, as my interlocking fingers were being pulled apart by this growing man meat. I then realised that his cockhead was now at the back of my throat, not because I had gone further down on him, but because he had grown another 2 inches in length. I noticed he was getting much thicker too, as my fingertips finally parted. His cockhead was no exception and was pushing against all sides of my mouth, allowing no passage of air. This realisation was such a turn on I almost came right there and then. But the need to breathe triumphed, and I jolted my head back, gasping, while pulling his mammoth junk from my mouth. “Well, well.” Said Brad, “Looks like you are enjoying. Perhaps we should move into the cabin before I become just too fucking big!” And with a smug grin, his cock grew up to halfway up his chest. Brad grabbed it, and began angling it down. “Open wide!” I looked at him confused and scared. How could he think that thing was going to fit in my mouth again after it just nearly choked me? “Your legs, silly!” He explained as he squatted down and slid his 18” dick under my groin. He slowly rose, pausing as he began to take my weight on his thick cock. I saw his quads bulge with dense striated muscle. After all this focus on his growing dick, I had forgotten just how hot and muscular he was. His thighs pumped up and his abs tensed, and he slowly stood up with me supported on his cock, balancing with my hands on his bulging shoulders. I could feel another dark spot of pre leaking onto my tented shorts, this was just so hot; but thankfully Brad wouldn’t have been able to see underneath his big pecs. Standing tall, Brad’s body was now fully bathed in sunlight. As he began marching me atop his junk, towards the cabin, I felt the rate of his cock growth increase, as the log supporting me thickened and rapidly lengthened, splaying my legs further apart. I let go of one of his shoulders, and felt the cock behind me as it grew to 20” and then 22”, each pulse lifting me higher as it gained more strength to take my weight. We made it to the cabin, and everything stopped. Out of the direct sunlight, and so the UV, Brad’s cock finally stopped growing. “Well,” he said, “I’m yours.” I stared into his handsome face, and again saw a smug grin come over his face. He throbbed his mammoth beast, and the rising cock angle made me slide down so that I faceplanted into his chest and stabbed him in the abs with my own boner. “Ooof,” He reacted, “That’s quite the weapon you’ve got there yourself. How about you free him from his prison.” I felt the same way, so swung my left leg over his huge cock and dropped to the floor. As I did so, his cock, now unburdened, swung up and the tip was level with the base of his neck. Having quickly whipped off my shorts and underwear before Brad saw the pre stains, I spun round to take in the view of him again. Gigantic. Everything. Pure masculinity. I had to service him. I grabbed the hand nearest to me, and began feeling and licking all the way up his arms; my tongue and fingers caressing every groove between the thick cords of muscle. On reaching his shoulder, I turned to face him, and had to stretch to touch each shoulder with each hand. His cockhead was level with my face, and was almost touching my nose as his broad chest pushed it out. I tried to ignore it for now, instead sliding both arms down to his biceps. He responded naturally, and raised both arms into a double bicep flex. Big boulders erupted forth, they split my fingers apart, and I tried to dig in, but the meat was just solid strength. I let my hands wander down to his pecs, and like clockwork, Brad started bouncing them, and my cock bounced in unison, tickling his balls in the process. I looked down and saw them. They were like two soft bowling balls, dangling down, halfway to his knees. I was so intrigued, I started fondling them, not noticing Brad begin to moan. I bent down and began to lick all around them, supporting their hefty weight in my hands, and watching as they overflowed from one of my palms to the other. As I licked them from bottom to top, I let my tongue run onto the base of Brad’s dick. He let out a louder deep moan, causing me to look up. I noticed now that his nipples had become sensitised, having thickened up, and were standing out a good half inch from his meaty pecs. I couldn’t resist, I jumped on his right one with my mouth, and began teasing and sucking at it, while ran my hands over his cobblestone abs, still trying to ignore the throbbing pillar next to my cheek. Brad moans only grew louder, he was loving this, and as I switched across to his left nipple, I saw a bead of pre run down his mighty shaft. While nibbling on his left nipple, I decided to reach across with my left hand and play with his right nipple simultaneously. In doing so, my arm was pressed against his 22” cock, and I could feel each throb, and just sense the power in it as it constantly vibrated with pure sexual energy. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I left both hands twiddling at his teats, but began using my mouth to wet the beast before me. Round and round, up and down I went with my tongue, soaking his member, and causing Brad to start egging me on. When I was confident I had lubricated most of his shaft, I released his nipples and grabbed his cock with both hands, and began pumping his cannon. While continuing to wank him, I pulled the head towards me, at this angle, it was level with my mouth, and although too thick to fully fit in, I did my best to massage the glans with my lips. This was clearly appreciated by Brad, who began moaning and bucking. It was getting so hot, I had to pleasure myself too. One hand on my cock, the other on the largest one on the planet, while my mouth continued to suck its head. I accelerated the pace more and more, and more, until I realised I was close to cumming. “Fuck, I gotta stop!” I panted. “No worries,” Brad replied, “You certainly got me going good!” As I began to regain some composure, a thought suddenly crossed my mind. “OK, I gotta question… if it’s sunlight which makes… this… happen, then how come you don’t already have a cock as long as a road?” “Well, the effects wear off after I cum. I guess all the energy is stored as cum, and having it kept there causes my junk to grow. But once its released, everything returns to its previous state.” I must’ve flashed a look of slight disappointment, as Brad quickly continued, “But I never used to be this muscular, or have an almost 6 inch soft cock. Or even this tall. But a man gets curious; and I tried my own come once, and noticed it led to some permanent gains.” He said as he flexed a bicep up to my face. I grab my dick and slowly start stroking in response. “If you carry on as you did before, you might get a treat”. The idea that I could possibly grow larger, seemingly everywhere, was such a turn on that I was once again close to the brink of orgasm, and a large globule of pre emerged from my slit and ran down my quivering cock. Brad noted this and decisively spoke up, “Actually, I think you’ll like to watch this.” He walked over to the cabin door and stood in its entrance. I was wondering what he was doing, but then as I caught sight of the back of his hefty ballsack dropping down further towards his knees, I realised he was growing himself in the sun again. He was there for not even a minute, and then he spun round. Over 2 feet of thick meaty cock was advancing towards me, the tip bouncing around, now level with Brad’s luscious lips. He stopped inches from me. Bent his head a little down, and pulled his bloated cockhead into his mouth as much as he could. His lips moistened the slit as he used his bulging arms to forcefully pump the column before me. Brad began to moan as his actions became faster and stronger. I had subconsciously began wanking myself too. Brad’s eyes shut, and I could swear he was moaning ‘Fuck’ although his mouth was gagged by a head the size of a rugby ball. He let out one massive but muffled moan, and his stroking suddenly ceased. I looked down and saw his balls heave, and then watched his cock jerk as a torrent of cum ran up inside it and gushed into Brad’s mouth. The instant he began swallowing, I noticed him changing. I took a step back and watched as his whole body seemed to scale-up larger, keeping everything in proportion as he inched up, reaching now what must’ve been a towering 6’3”. He released his cock from his mouth, the spurts having finally ended, and I watched it lengthen an inch or two by itself so that the tip bumped against the bridge of his nose. I was on the edge, pumping like a maniac. Brad opened his eyes, saw me, and immediately placed his hands on his hips. And within an instant I saw his pecs puff out massively, expanding in size, weight and strength. His abs all swelled, fighting for space, and as he lifted his arms up and flexed, I saw his biceps grow larger and larger than before. His muscles were surging with much more energy than the rest of him, and that was my weakness. As his guns grew past the 20” mark, I blew my load and splattered his ripped torso, as his growth finally began to subside. We were both left standing there, catching our breath. I apologised for spraying Brad, and he laughed it off, grabbing a towel. I watched as he wiped my cum off him, and noticed his balls were back to normal, well maybe a slightly bigger size, but I had no reference point. His cock on the other hand was still looming towards me at an inflated size. However, I watched as it both began to soften and shrink, arcing down in the process. Brad cast the towel aside, and looked down at himself from his new height. After what I had just witnessed, his flaccid cock looked a sorry sight. But after glancing back at my own, and then back at Brad’s, I realised he must be 7 inches soft now! Plus Brad certainly didn’t seem unimpressed. “Fuck! Look at me, I’m massive!” He bellowed, as he struck pose after pose. It was true, his muscles had significantly grown. Dave might not pick up on the extra inch in height or cock, but Brad’s bodybuilder stature biceps and pecs were bound to give the game away. I wonder if Dave knows about this? “Damn,” continued Brad as he cupped his enormous left pec in his right hand, “This is incredible! …but we best get covered up before Dave comes back with the food.” I began redressing. Luckily the hot weather would dry my shorts out pretty quick from any embarrassing stains. I watched Brad rummage around the cabin until he found a pair of metallic blue speedos. He struggled to pull them up over his bigger legs. “Wow, I can’t believe how much my calves have grown. …Makes …this uuh..h. a bit difficult though, ..my quads too…” He wriggled about, his meaty muscles tensing and untensing in the process. They were just so big and defined now, I had never seen anything like it. Fuck I was getting aroused again. Brad eventually got the speedos on and over his genitals. They were super tight. And they made such a big beautiful blue bulge. It was shiny and massive, and I can’t believe I ever thought it looked small. Even framed by large cobbled abs and big quads, its size was unmistakeable. His thick 7 inch soft cock and balls already strained the material into a mouth-watering, big, round, shiny bulge. I couldn’t help but start boning up again. It looked so good. Brad caught sight of this, “Calm down now, Dave will be back any second.” I nodded, a bit disappointed and dropped my head. But instantly sprang it back up when I heard the now familiar sound of speedo fibres stretching. Brad was blushing, his arousal given away, and a glance at his package revealed some new taut wrinkles and a bit of delineation showing the outline of his chubbing cock. “No really,” Brad interrupted, resisting the moment, “let’s have you rub some suncream on my new muscles before I ruin another decent pair of speedos!”.
  5. CrisKane

    The Perfect Guy Goes Viral

    I enter my darkened little one-bedroom apartment, lugging my briefcase and a McDonald's meal, having already devoured most of the fries during my commute. I felt like such a pig, wolfing down fries as my Hyundai idled in the chugging traffic, but everybody knows McDonald's fries have a half-life of about thirty seconds before they start to devolve from yummy treats into petrified wood. I know I'm not helping my fitness goals, but some nights you just feel like bagging on the gym and eating something horrible for you. Besides, one night isn't going to make a big difference, right? I take a seat at my Ikea desk (a BORGSJÖ, if I remember correctly from the assembly instructions) and power down my grilled chicken sandwich while I boot up my laptop to check my personal emails, the kind you don't dare open at work. Looks like the standard assortment of spam selling cheap boner pills, dubious-sounding dietary supplements, and entreaties begging me to take millions of dollars off some foreign stranger's hands. I'm about to delete another email from a sender whose name I don't recognize when the subject line catches my attention. "Re: The Perfect Guy" I figure it's probably a come-on from some gay dating service or maybe a link to a porn website, but it piques my interest enough to click it open. "To my new friend, Another night alone at home? Here's a game to amuse yourself. Have fun! I know I did! Your new friend." Okay, if this is from anyone who knows me, it was probably a safe guess that I'm going to be home alone. Things have been pretty slow for me lately, as I'm getting tired of the old grind and the old Grindr. That's probably why I've gotten into writing those fantasy stories that I've been posting online in the last few months. When you can't find the guy of your dreams, it's tempting just to dream him up. I'm fairly certain this message must have come from another of the contributors to my favorite site. If it's who I think it is, I figure I can trust any link he would send me, so I click the hyperlink. I'm taken to a stark website that looks like it was designed around 1998. Just basic black text in a non-descript font against a white background. It makes the Drudge Report look flashy. The home page instructs me to answer the questions as truthfully as possible and that, if I stop or don't answer, "something bad" will happen. I should just close the site immediately because I'll probably get a nasty virus or a cascade of undismissable pop-up ads, but my curiosity is already aroused. Following my dick instead of my brain, I click on the button that reads "Good luck!" and am taken to the next page, where a banner at the top reads, "If You Were The Perfect Guy... Questionnaire." That's unexpected. I figured I'd be specifying what kind of guy I'd like to fuck, not what kind of guy I'd like to be. This must be one of the earliest ancestors of those lame Buzzfeed quizzes where they make you answer a bunch of questions to determine where you should live (L.A. in my case), what would be your ideal job (mine, strangely, was pastry chef), or which "Buffy" character you're most like (supposedly Willow, for fuck's sake, both times I took the goddamn thing!). Oh well, might as well start. Could be fun. "Question 1: If you were the perfect guy... what would your handwriting be like?" Damn, this quiz really has been floating around for a while. There must be kids taking this who've spent their lives typing and don't even know what handwriting is. I've always liked my handwriting -- it has a distinctive artistic flair -- although the less and less I write anything by hand, the sloppier it has become. I could never hand one of my scrawled grocery lists to anyone else and expect them to decipher it. The screen provides a box into which I can enter my answer. I think it over and type: "My handwriting would basically be the same as always, but written with more care and legibility." Not sure handwriting is the first thing I think about when envisioning my perfect guy, but the question must tell the quiz designer something about me. I click a button reading "NEXT" and am taken to a new page. "Question 2: If you were the perfect guy… what kind of music would you listen to?" I hate that I'm starting to become one of those guys who isn't keeping up with the good new bands out there. In high school and college, I amassed a huge collection of music, but I'm afraid that's still mostly what I listen to. I also wish I had broader tastes, since I mostly limit myself to rock and pop. But since I'm hypothetically redesigning myself... "I would be up on the best new music in addition to my old favorites, and would stay aware enough of the top forty songs to know what is good and what is dreck. I would also have a deeper appreciation of jazz and classical and be able to talk about them knowledgeably with other aficionados." My finger hovers on my mouse, ready to click, when I decide to answer something that wasn't specifically asked. "I would also be a soulful singer and an excellent musician who can play piano, guitar and saxophone equally well. I would be able to compose melodies and lyrics, and both read and write sheet music." I've always envied great musicians and wished I had that kind of skill. Not only are they great artists, but their fans always seem eager to fuck them. Perfect Guy is gonna get so laid. Click! "Question 3: If you were the perfect guy… what would your favorite color be?" I don't think I've been asked that since grade school. I didn't think I had one, but as I look around my apartment, I realize that my sofa is blue, my gym bag is blue, and my Stratocaster is blue. Then again, would blue be my favorite color if I were the perfect guy? I'm probably overthinking this whole silly questionnaire, but I have to hope that Perfect Guy would be less conventional and more adventurous than me. At the very least, he wouldn't pick a goddamn primary color as his favorite. I type "Purple" before I can change my mind and hit "Next". "Question 4: If you were the perfect guy… would your hair be long or short?" Hmm. I can never decide what looks best on me. When I have short hair, I want to grow it out, but once it gets too long and shaggy, I'm tempted to get it buzzed to practically stubble, but I can't go too short because I have a cowlick. I usually end up somewhere in the mushy middle, which is another pretty boring choice for Perfect Guy to make. "I would have long hair that could be swept back from my forehead and groomed to look neat and businesslike or could hang down to my eyes and shoulders to make me look wild and animalistic...like when I'm onstage doing a particularly great guitar solo. BUT NO MULLET!" An emphatic click! "Question 5: If you were the perfect guy... what color would your hair be?" Now here is a question that demonstrates the difference between who I'd like to fuck and who I'd like to be. Without a doubt, I am more attracted, by and large, to guys with dark brown hair like my own, but I've always had a secret longing to be a blond. I've just never had the guts to walk into a salon and go through with it. It always feels like it would be too big a change and I'd have to worry immediately about my dark roots growing back in. But speaking ideally... "I would have naturally golden blond hair which would lighten even more in the summer." I submit my reply and go to the next page. "Question 6: If you were the perfect guy... what color would your eyes be?" As I look around the living room at my purple couch, my purple gym bag and my purple Strat, I'm tempted to color-coordinate and ask for purple eyes, but that seems too obvious. I really have to take a leak, so I walk into the bathroom and brush back my bangs from my forehead to study my blue eyes. Why mess with a classic combo like blond hair and blue eyes? It'd be nice if they were really spectacular, though, so they'd be noticed from across a room. I finish pissing and flush. This whole quiz thing is making me horny, so I strip off my blue Oxford shirt and beige dress pants and toss them in a heap on my bed, then return to the living room in just my Fruit of the Loom cotton briefs. I grab a banana from the kitchen counter and flop down on the sofa. I'm just about to reach for my remote to see if anything new has been released on Netflix when I notice a countdown timer on my computer screen and the warning, "YOU MUST FINISH THE QUESTIONNAIRE OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES." Consequences? Shit. My gut tells me to shut off the computer right now before this quiz thing installs any malware, but for all I know the program has already infected my computer. On the off chance that continuing to answer will prevent that kind of calamity, I figure I'd better keep going. Okay. Eyes. "Piercing blue, like Paul Walker or Paul Newman." I can't think of a third dead Paul to add to the list, so I move on. "Question 7: If you were the perfect guy… what would your complexion be like?" My ruddy skin is fine, or at least I'm used to it, but since I'm designing Perfect Me from scratch, I'd want to be flawless. And as much as I love to get a nice tan in the summer, I always feel like I'm inflicting long-term damage on myself, like I'm doing the equivalent of making my skin smoke a pack of unfiltered Camels a day. But imagine if I could swing it so there were no negative consequences. Then, I'd be "Smooth with an even moderate tan...with no tan lines. Permanently, with no chance of weathering, crinkling or skin cancer." Man, I'm getting greedy now. "Question 8: If you were the perfect guy… how much body hair would you have?" Glancing down at the short bristles poking out of my chest, I know my ideal would be not having to put up with shaving or waxing to have a sleek hairless torso. I do like the light coating of hair on my arms and legs, but a bare chest shows my silky tan in its best light. "Modest blond hair on my arms and legs, but no hair on my pecs and only a faint treasure trail on my abs." Not that my abs are anything to write home about, but I wouldn't want anything to obscure what little is visible. "Question 9: If you were the perfect guy… would you have any facial hair?" I've never been able to grow a decent beard -- too many gaps in the placement of the follicles. The few times I've tried, it took forever to grow in, felt unbearably scratchy and looked too seedy to keep. I'd hoped I would look rugged, but ended up looking like I'd just traveled to Californy to be a character in "The Grapes of Wrath". Still, Perfect Me should definitely have the option. "I would usually be clean-shaven or have a sexy one- or two-day growth, but I could grow a full thick beard if I wanted in a week." Perfect Me is sounding better all the time. The more I envision him, the harder my cock gets. "Question 10: If you were the perfect guy.. what would your voice be like?" Two words. "Jon Hamm." Next! "Question 11: If you were the perfect guy.... what would your body type be? Choose one: Ectomorph, endomorph, or mesomorph." I consciously have to stop my fingers from typing "Mesomorph" and moving on. Tempting as that seems to someone who has only recently beefed up from lifelong ectomorph status, I'm not sure I would want to be a pure musclehead. While visions of muscle twinks dance in my head, I type, "Somewhere between ectomorph and mesomorph. Somewhere between a wrestler's build and a swimmer's build. Strong but lean. Powerful but not intimidating." Fast but slow. Day but night. Wishy-washy much? I don't know why I'm taking this goofy quiz so seriously. It's not like my answers really mean anything. "Question 12: If you were the perfect guy… what kind of clothes would you wear?" As I rub my hand down my bronzed and sculpted abs and over the bulge in my briefs, I'm tempted to answer "None", but I'm not sure how well that would go over at the office. Actually, it might be okay with most of the women, and with Daryl in accounting. I've always cleaned up well when necessary, but have never had the budget to be a fashion-plate. I tend toward ultra-casual when I'm not at work -- comfort-fit jeans and pop-culture t-shirts -- but it'd be nice if I looked fantastic even when I was kicking back. "I would be able to pull off everything from a classic tux to a tank top and board shorts and look totally stylish. For my everyday wardrobe, I'd have an eye for finding clothes that gave me a sexy image without requiring a huge bank account, but I'd also occasionally splurge on some great designer clothes. I would fill out my jeans like they were custom-tailored for me, and I'd look awesome in leather." "Question 13: If you were the perfect guy… would you have any piercings?" I've always been a coward about piercings. Not the pain so much as the permanence. Heck, if I didn't come by my blond hair naturally, I'd probably even feel skittish about changing my hair color. But I can definitely envision myself with a couple simple hoop earrings or gemstones. "Yes, but no more than two holes in each earlobe, and no piercings anywhere else." "Question 14: If you were the perfect guy… would you have any tattoos?" Talk about permanence. I can't think of anything I desperately loved five years ago or even one year ago that I would still want branded on my flesh for the rest of my life. I type an emphatic "No". Besides, if I did have the whim to get a tattoo in the future, I could always change my mind. A window pops up in red letters. "PLEASE ANSWER TRUTHFULLY. ANSWERS CANNOT BE CHANGED AFTER THE QUIZ." Okay, that was spooky. Does the quiz actually know I'm wavering? If so, how? I leave my answer as "No" and click through. "Question 15: If you were the perfect guy… how big would your penis be?" Ah, here we go. I should have known. This whole thing is just a roundabout way to sell knock-off Viagra or penis-enlargement surgery. I shut the laptop, annoyed with myself for getting this far into it. As I finish off the protein smoothie I had brought home as my supper, I'm now regretting that I wasted my time on this quiz when I could have been at the gym. Maybe that cute trainer who looks like a taller, buffer version of a young Michael J. Fox would have been working tonight. One of these days I'll have to talk to him, but I'm sure he gets hit on all the time by hotter guys than me. I get so nervous around him, I've never even learned his name. I stalk around the apartment restlessly, wandering into the bedroom. Not sure why I feel so tongue-tied when I try to strike up conversations with guys like that. Not to be arrogant, but I'm looking in the mirror and I look damn good. I sweep a hand through my mane of blond hair and admire how pumped and cut my arms, legs and torso are. All that time at the gym hasn't been a waste. About the only thing that doesn't look big on me is the bulge in my underwear. No one has ever complained out loud to me, but I sometimes sense disappointment when someone finally sees my cock and doesn't feel it measures up to the rest of me. Of course, in a perfect world... It's crazy, but I suddenly feel compelled to tell the quiz my answer about penis size as if it's an urgent bulletin, as if the quiz is waiting impatiently for my response. I go back to the living room and open my laptop. Sure enough, the screen is flashing "YOU MUST FINISH THE QUESTIONNAIRE OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES." You want an answer that badly? Here's your answer. "Five inches soft. Eleven inches hard." There. Satisfied? I know I would be. I click emphatically and proceed to the next page. "Question 16: If you were the perfect guy… what kind of underwear would you wear?" Just pondering the question makes my dick stiffen. Boxers look too baggy on me. I like the look of boxer-briefs, but I've always felt too hemmed in when I actually wore them. My Fruit of the Loom tighty-whities are having trouble containing my jumbo hard-on just sitting here, so I probably shouldn't go too much smaller. "Briefs, jockstraps or, when I'm feeling in the right mood, a silk thong might be fun." Just imagining the feel of silk against my sensitive cock makes me wonder why I've never bought any silk undies. I'll have to put them on my shopping list. "Question 17: If you were the perfect guy… would you be into girls or other guys?" This ought to be a no-brainer, but the fact is I do still find myself attracted to women now and then. Not all women or most women, but then all or most guys don't turn me on either. The women are typically intelligent and confident, often a tad androgynous, and on more than one occasion lesbians, all of which should probably be telling me something. But why rule out getting intimately familiar with half of the population of earth on the technicality of one little chromosome? "I'd mostly be into guys, but would keep an open mind. Beauty comes in many forms, as does love." "Question 18: If you were the perfect guy… what would your sex life be like?" No hesitation on this one. "It would be romantic and, once I found someone I truly loved, faithfully monogamous." I'm already romantic, but still waiting for the true love thing to kick in. "Question 19: If you were the perfect guy... what would your intelligence be? One being stupid and ten being high enough to drive the class nerd up the wall." Luckily for me, I've always been pretty smart, although sometimes I think it has held me back socially. I tend to overanalyze and worry over things that most people don't seem to stress about so much. If I'm a nine now, maybe just knocking myself down a point will do the trick. Don't want to make myself too much of a dimbulb. "Eight, with less book-smarts and more world-wisdom than I currently have." I'm about to click, but move my mouse back to the front of the sentence and make it "Eight-point-five." Like I said, I tend to overanalyze. "Question 20: If you were the perfect guy… how old would you be, how tall would you be without shoes and what would you weigh without clothes?" Well, I definitely wouldn't want to go back to school. Once I started earning money at a job, I could never imagine going back to paying for the "privilege" of working as hard as I had in my college courses. But I'd still want to be young. And tall. And muscular, but not too bulky. "I would be 25 years old, six foot one, and 175 pounds." "Last Question: If you were the perfect guy… what would your name be?" Not that I dislike my name, but I always enjoy coming up with the names for the characters in the stories I write. I lean back, stretching my long legs and clasping my fingers together behind my head as I contemplate a new handle. Grant always struck me as a cool first name, and no one in history has been cooler than Cary Grant. Maybe my name should be Grant Carey? Nah, too many people would make Cary Grant jokes. Who else do I admire? Mentally riffling through my library, I hit upon Oscar Wilde. Grant Wilde? Grant Wilde. GRANT Wilde. Grant WILDE. Works for me. I type it into the box and with one final click, I'm done. I watch the screen, waiting for something to happen, but there are no offers for escort services, no special sex-toy coupons, no warnings from my anti-virus software. The window just seems to...evaporate...and my screen goes back to normal. Shit, I'm feeling exhausted all of a sudden. How did it get so late? It's already pitch dark outside. My mind's a blank about what I've been doing since I got home, and I haven't even been drinking! Weird. I put an Art Tatum LP on my turntable and stretch out on my black leather sofa to relax. I pick up the remote to open the drapes and enjoy the expansive view of the skyline out the windows of my spacious loft. My palm slides gently across the ruts of my six-pack and my fingers slip idly under the waistband of my Calvin Kleins... Nearly drowned out by the jazzy piano echoing from my stereo system, I hear the faint buzz of my vibrating cellphone. I hop up and pad barefoot across the hardwood floors toward my king-size bed where my artfully-destroyed 501s are lying. I pull the cellphone out of the pocket and a picture of my boyfriend Matt's grinning face is staring up at me from the screen. I answer the call. "Hello, McFly." It's my pet name for him, since he looks like Marty McFly after some heavy doses of HGH, with impressive hard-earned muscles all over his compact frame. He hasn't gotten sick of me calling him that yet, or at least hasn't said so. He's even come up with a nickname for me in response. "Hey, Doc." I can hear the smile in his voice. Thank god I don't resemble Christopher Lloyd in the way that Matt looks like Michael J. Fox. "I just saw on Facebook that it's '80s Night at Revolver," he tells me. "Wanna go 'Back In Time'?", he asks, singing the last three words. (I swear our conversations are not entirely composed of "Back To The Future" references.) "Sure, babe. Do I have to wear a costume or can I just come as a normal person?" "I don't know, Grant. CAN you come as a normal person?" "Har-de-har. I can come any way you like, McFly." "I'll test you on that later," Matt promises. "You want me to just meet you there, or...?" "Nah, I just got the Corvette back from the shop. I'll swing by and pick you up." "Okay. I'll be waiting." He makes a kissing sound over the phone. "See you in a bit, honey," I say as I hang up. My heart still flutters every time I hear his voice. That's a good sign, right? I notice I missed a few voicemails, so I check them. One is trying to sell me more cable services and gets deleted immediately. One is from the drummer for my jazz trio, reminding me of rehearsal tomorrow afternoon. The last one is from my modeling agent, telling me I'm booked for a fashion shoot on Friday in Cabo. Hopefully Matt can come along with me, if he doesn't have a shoot of his own booked this weekend. I walk to my closet which takes up nearly an entire wall of my loft and search for what to wear to the club. I can't resist my purple leather pants and matching vest, which are flatteringly and enjoyably snug on my bod. Through the form-fitting leather, you can totally tell how big and hard my cock is, but I don't give a shit who sees it. Let them stare. I know Matt is the only guy getting his hands -- and other parts -- on it tonight. I search my jewelry box and find an awesome silver necklace embedded with amethysts, which draws the eye to my broad, bare chest and goes well with the silver hoops in my right earlobe. I add an absurd number of silver and black rubber bracelets on both arms, plus black ankle boots with Cuban heels. I run my hands roughly through my hair to tousle it into a untamed mess. The overall effect turns me into a mashup of Prince, Madonna, George Michael and Bon Jovi. I look like the '80s condensed into a single person. I look...perfect. On my way toward my private elevator to the garage, I notice an instant message on my iPad from someone named Collan. He's asking if I just sent him some kind of online quiz. I quickly type back that I have no idea who he is or what he is talking about. He writes back to ask if I'm THE Grant Wilde, the supermodel. I ignore his message and leave the loft, wondering how some stranger even got my contact info. Another obsessed fan probably. Guess that's the price of fame. It can definitely get annoying at times. But, honestly, I wouldn't change a single thing about my life.
  6. CrisKane

    Acting Out

    Damon was up against a hard deadline at work when he felt the vibration in his pocket. The brochure design was due by the end of the day, so he really didn't have a spare moment to chat on the phone. Still, he should at least check to see who was calling. Slipping the iPhone from his pocket, he saw the name "Quinn Brooks" and Quinn's excruciatingly handsome face. Damon didn't often get calls from Quinn -- Damon was usually the one reaching out to "bother" Quinn -- so he figured it must be urgent. He raised the phone to his ear while continuing to work one-handed. "What's up, Quinn?" "I need your help. I've got an audition for a soap tomorrow and I'm really freaking out about it. You're the only person I could think of to call." Quinn did indeed sound stressed, which was unusual. Quinn tended to be the most easygoing person that Damon knew. "Calm down. I'm in the middle of a project here, but I should be done by six. Where can I meet you?" "Just come to my apartment. Really appreciate it, man." Quinn hung up. Damon went back to work, but his work on the brochure was decidedly half-assed as he wondered what could be bothering Quinn so much. At 5:59, Damon saved his file, emailed it to his boss and headed out the door. As the sluggish rush-hour traffic betwen Brentwood and Hollywood redefined the word "rush", Damon couldn't stop thinking about Quinn. They had met in college working on a production of "A Streetcar Named Desire". Damon, a senior studying graphic design, worked behind the scenes, helping with the sets and costumes and also creating the poster for the show, while Quinn, a junior theater major, played the Brando role of Stanley Kowalski. Quinn definitely had the magnetism and physicality for the role, gifted as he was with a hard-edged masculine face and a naturally muscular body that required little upkeep at the gym. But as Damon observed the early rehearsals, he wasn't sure Quinn would cut it. Quinn was so good-natured, friendly and low-key, it seemed impossible that he could find within himself the anger and menace it took to bring Stanley to life. Only when Quinn started trying on costumes did he start to find his performance. When he was just Quinn Brooks, big man on campus, standing on that stage in a polo shirt, chinos and Nikes, he was just a lackluster guy reading lines. But once he put on vintage tweed slacks with suspenders and a too-snug tank top, things began to click. Some Oxford shoes that his grandfather had worn which he found in the attic back home made him feel more grounded. Switching from wearing his usual briefs to period-appropriate boxer shorts made him feel more authentically like Stanley. Whoever said "clothes make the man" was dead right in this case, while lack of clothes brought out the animal. The director was aiming for a look close to Brando's in the film version, with Quinn wearing a soiled and torn tank top during the famous "Stella!!!" scene, but Quinn discovered in rehearsal that he could better tap into the character if he tore the shirt off completely. It was a wardrobe choice which was thoroughly appreciated by most of the women and many of the men involved in the production, including Damon who was still deeply closeted at the time. The fact that Quinn wasn't a gym rat meant he didn't have the deeply cut abs that were commonplace on campus, but even that made him look more authentic to the period setting. Damon was impressed: even Quinn's body was part of the costume. For the final touch, he dyed his blond hair black and trimmed it short, until Quinn essentially disappeared. He had become Stanley Kowalski. Audiences were floored by Quinn's performance, in which he tapped into a side of himself he hadn't previously known he had. At the party after opening night, Quinn was back to his usual amiable self, surrounded with well-wishers gushing praise over his performance. With the help of several glasses of red wine, Damon worked up the courage to speak to Quinn and tell him how impressed he was. Quinn could not have been more gracious or more generous with his time, complimenting Damon on the great work he'd done on the sets and costumes and poster. Damon couldn't fathom that Quinn actually knew who he was. Damon felt that his shyness served like personality camouflage, preventing others from noticing he was even in the room with them. Damon mentioned that he was planning to move to Los Angeles after his graduation in the spring. Quinn said he was debating whether it would be better to move to New York or Hollywood to pursue a career when he graduated. "Well, if you move to L.A., be sure to look me up!", Damon said. "You can count on it," replied Quinn with a wide grin. Damon backed away awkwardly, straight into a table with bottles of booze and a streetcar-shaped sheet cake. Catching himself, his right hand landed directly in the thick frosting of the cake. He offered his goop-covered hand in friendship, which Quinn good-naturedly shook, and they both had a good laugh as they went into the kitchen to wash their hands clean. They saw each other from time to time around campus after that, although they didn't run in the same social circles, mainly because Quinn had social circles and Damon didn't. Only after Damon moved to Los Angeles and knew that he absolutely wouldn't be encountering anyone he already knew did he begin to explore his sexuality anywhere but online. But when he went out to clubs, he still seemed to be wearing that camouflage of anonymity that had cloaked him in college. He was thin and youthful, but not thin and youthful enough to attract the twink aficionados. He joined a gym and began to work out for the first time in his life, putting on a thin layer of muscle, but not enough to draw much attention amid a crowd of West Hollywood beefcake. He got an entry-level position designing pamphlets and web pages for a non-profit, found a studio apartment in WeHo that ate up the bulk of his salary, and spent most of his weekend afternoons browsing through obscure shops around town, looking for cheap eclectic items to furnish his tiny room. After a year in L.A., Damon was absolutely shocked to get a call from Quinn, saying he was moving to Hollywood to pursue his craft. Damon could not believe that Quinn was following up on a half-drunken pledge he'd made at a party well over a year earlier. It made him admire Quinn even more. Damon asked where Quinn was planning to live, and Quinn replied that he was hoping to get some advice on that from Damon, since he didn't know anyone else who lived in Los Angeles. Damon felt a little less special after hearing that, convinced that if Quinn knew even one other person in town, they would have received this call and Damon would have been forgotten. But screw that, Quinn did call him, so he boldly suggested that Quinn camp out in his apartment while he looked for a place of his own. "I couldn't impose on you like that, man." "Not a problem at all," Damon insisted as he looked around the cramped apartment that already made him claustrophobic as its sole resident. Quinn arrived in town several days later, his possessions narrowed down to a pile of clothes on hangers laid across the back seat of his convertible, his shaggy blond hair tossed by the breeze en route. When Quinn saw the size of Damon's place, he knew he would get in Damon's way and offered to go find himself a motel, but Damon refused to hear it. "When you start getting on my nerves, I'll let you know." Moving Quinn's belongings into the tiny apartment took a grand total of three minutes, after which they went to grab a bite at Hamburger Mary's on Santa Monica Boulevard. Damon noticed some stiffness in Quinn's body language as he realized how many of the pedestrians and the patrons of the restaurant were pretty clearly gay. Damon had never sensed a whiff of homophobia on Quinn's part at college, but it was a fairly small college in a relatively conservative state. Quinn wasn't so much unnerved as overwhelmed, as if he had cracked open the door of his black-and-white house and was taking his first step into a Technicolor Oz. "So, is this like the gay part of town, or is all of L.A. like this?", Quinn asked with genuine curiosity as he wolfed down his Barbra-Q Bacon Burger (which he had attempted to order by just pointing to the menu, until the waiter forced him to say it out loud). "We're pretty close to Gay Central Station here." "And you like living right in the thick of it?" Damon's stomach quivered and his pulse went into arrythmia for a second as he mulled what to say. He had yet to come out to his family or to anyone he knew prior to moving to L.A., but if this was who he really was, he had to live it. He thought of saying something earnest or defiant, but he figured a lighter approach would work better. "The thicker the better," he smirked and raised his eyebrows, watching Quinn closely for a reaction. Quinn took a long swig of beer and fixed his sparkling blue eyes on Damon. He lowered the bottle with a nod. "Yeah, I kinda had you figured for that." "You don't have a problem with that, do you?" Quinn laughed. "I just got a theater degree and I want to be an actor. If gays freaked me out, I picked the wrong fuckin' job." That night, Damon pushed his luck and dragged Quinn to Rage, a gay nightclub. If Damon thought he was wearing camouflage before, entering a gay club with Quinn Brooks by your side was like wearing an invisibility cloak. Quinn definitely got an ego boost from all the guys coming over to ask him to dance (or more), but he bet he set the world record for saying the words "straight" and "girlfriend" in twenty minutes. Meanwhile, Damon nursed a Seven and Seven and contented himself with hovering anonymously near so many horny, sweaty hunks and vicariously wishing all their come-ons were coming his way. Eventually Quinn turned to Damon and shouted "Let's get outta here" over the pounding disco music. On the sidewalk, it felt twenty degrees cooler. Quinn's eyes were wide, like he'd just narrowly escaped being gored at the Running of the Bulls. "Is that what it's like all the time?", he asked Damon. "Yeah, that's pretty much a normal night for me." Damon offered his house guest the futon, but Quinn wouldn't hear of it, using his sleeping bag instead. Quinn went to pains to make sure he wasn't interfering with Damon's routine, although seeing a shirtless Quinn shaving every morning was a disruption Damon didn't complain about. Within a week, Quinn had landed a job as a waiter. Within ten days, he had found an apartment which was bigger and cost less than Damon's. They saw each other occasionally, usually when Damon thought there was a play or movie or band that Quinn might appreciate, but Quinn was usually waiting tables in the evening and had to pass. The last time Damon had received a call from Quinn was two months ago, inviting Damon and a guest to come to opening night of a play Quinn was doing in North Hollywood. Damon couldn't find a date -- or even a beard -- and ended up giving the spare ticket to a young woman in the standby line. She was pleasant but monosyllabic waiting for the opening curtain, but when Damon mentioned at intermission that he was friends with the guy playing the lead role, the woman became chatty as all get-out, peppering him with questions about Quinn which only ended when the curtain opened for act two. The woman, whose name was Renee, came along with Damon to the after-party and was hanging on Quinn's arm by the end of the night. Two weeks later, Quinn had dumped his girlfriend back home and Renee was spending her nights at Quinn's place. As far as Damon knew, they were still dating, but perhaps they had broken up. Maybe that's why Quinn had called today, reaching out to an old friend -- okay, marginal acquaintance -- for counsel as he nursed a broken heart. But even if Quinn hadn't managed to make other friends in his short time in L.A., surely any stranger he grabbed randomly off the street could offer more wisdom on romantic matters than Damon could. Damon pulled onto Quinn's shady street and checked the myriad of parking regulation signs, trying to figure out if it was legal for him to park in this neighborhood. Convinced that he could, he ran to Quinn's apartment and knocked on the door. "Co-ome i-in," sang an off-key attempt at a soprano voice from within. Damon swung open the unlocked door and was surprised to discover Quinn pacing in the living room, covered in flop-sweat and wearing a bizarre mixture of clothing. His hair was haphazardly bobby-pinned into something that in no way resembled an actual hairdo. He wore a linen sportscoat with a Chicago Bulls jersey underneath, checkerboard-pattern bicycle shorts and a pair of muddy workboots. Quinn was flushed with relief at seeing Damon. "Thank god you're here. I gotta be gay! You gotta help me!" He clomped over and hugged Damon, transferring a substantial amount of his sweat onto Damon's gray silk shirt. "What to you mean you've gotta be gay?", asked Damon. Quinn picked up a script from his futon and handed it to Damon. "This audition tomorrow. It's for a recurring role in a soap, which'd be huge for me, but the character they want me to play is gay and I don't know how to play it." "Play it like a normal person." Quinn shook his head. "You don't understand. I gotta feel like I'm seeing through this guy's eyes. I don't know how to look at another guy from a gay guy's perspective." "Sure you do," said Damon calmly. "Just look at the guy the same way you look at Renee." Quinn wasn't being persuaded. He looked distraught as he checked out his reflection in the mirror. "I was thinking if I could just find the right look, the character would come to me, but..." Damon shook his head as he looked at what Quinn was wearing. "You have met gay people before, right? You know we don't dress like we escaped from a mental ward." "I know, I know. I was just trying anything. I woulda tried on some of Renee's dresses, but I'm way too big for 'em." Damon stopped cold and leveled a glare at Quinn. "You also know we don't all wear dresses, right?" "YES!", Quinn insisted. "What you're seeing is the result of two extra hours of desperation because you couldn't get here right away!" "Sue me, I work for a living! Why couldn't Renee help you?" "She's shooting a commercial in Baja. She'll be gone for four days." "Okay, just calm down. We'll get through this." Damon began to remove the bobby-pins from Quinn's hair and asked, "So, describe this character to me so I can get a sense of what he should wear." Quinn grabbed the script and scanned the highlighted stage directions. "His name's Alexander and he's the black sheep of the family who was ostrich-ized..." Damon corrected, "Ostracized." "Ostracized...when his father discovered he was gay. Actually, he was apparently...ostracized...from the show 'cause he thought he deserved a raise. But now they want to bring his character back." "And there are no actual gay actors in Hollywood they could hire?" "My agent says I look a lot like the guy who played him the first time, so he thinks I got a real good chance at it." "So? There's your answer. Dress like the other guy did." "I tried that, but that guy used to just wear regular business suits, and putting on my own suits just felt like...like me wearing a suit. Plus, apparently they're writing him a lot more flamboyant now and I don't have a clue how to be flamboyant. That's why I called you." Damon glanced down at his gray shirt and charcoal pants. "Oh, yeah, you're talking to the male Lady Gaga right here. Go put on some normal clothes and we'll go shopping." Quinn nodded eagerly and walked into the bathroom to change. He leaned out, asking, "Sir Gaga?" "What?" "Wouldn't the male Lady Gaga be Sir Gaga?" Damon waved a get-a-move-on gesture and tried not to stare too blatantly at Quinn as he stripped down. * * * As Quinn drove frantically toward Melrose Boulevard, Damon sat in the passenger seat, scanning through Quinn's script. "This writing is terrible. None of it rings true. This guy Alexander is swishy one minute and butch the next. No wonder you were dressed like you just grabbed random items from the clothes dryer." "I just need to get a fix on who I think Alexander is. If I can nail the audition, then I'll worry about getting them to write the character better." Damon pointed to a parking spot in front of a quirky clothing store he liked to browse. Quinn screeched into the spot, pissing off another driver who was getting ready to back into the same space. Quinn shouted at the other driver, "Sorry! Sorry! Acting crisis!" Quinn looked berserk, the wind having buffeted his hair into a crazed mess as the convertible sped here. Damon led Quinn into the musty smelling shop. They were the only customers, and the older woman managing the register looked surprised to have any visitors at all. Quinn searched frantically through the racks of clothes in his size, trying on one vintage jacket after another, displeased with them all. "Not gay enough." Damon shook his head, amused but increasingly irritated. He was generally so fond of Quinn but couldn't believe how narrow his views were, as if there were only one kind of gay personality or fashion. He watched as Quinn pulled off his t-shirt, revealing pumped pecs and shallow but distinct ab muscles. Clearly Quinn's carefree attitude toward exercise had changed, and Damon couldn't say he disapproved. Trying not to seem TOO interested, Damon casually asked, "You been working out?" "Yeah, agent said I looked too doughy. Apparently, if they can't count your ab muscles on two hands these days, nobody's gonna cast you." Quinn pulled a multicolored vest over his bare torso and evaluated the look. He cringed. "Too gay." Damon felt like he was watching Quinn perform a one-man show of "Goldilocks", where everything was "too gay" or "too straight", but nothing was "just right". (They'd have to go back to cruising Rage later to find three bears.) After Quinn rejected a few of Damon's suggestions, Damon turned in light-hearted frustration to the old woman at the back of the shop. "Do you have a 'gay' section for my friend here? Maybe something in a size Gay?" Quinn swatted Damon's shoulder. "This probably seems silly to you, but it's my process, okay?" The woman behind the counter gestured for the men to approach. The old woman's eyes were drawn to Quinn, but Damon had finally quit fretting about his non-entity status in Quinn's presence. That Quinn was now shirtless and more built than ever only made Damon fade further into the background. "This might sound stupid, but I need something that'll make me feel...gay," Quinn told the old woman. She smiled wistfully. "When I was a girl, a nice new hat used to make me feel gay." Oh god, Damon thought, this was a terrible idea. Now we're about to be treated to this woman's history of how word meanings changed throughout the twentieth century. But instead, she reached under the counter and pulled out a wooden jewelry box. She opened it to display a collection of various rings. She studied them, then selected one with a silver band and a single black stone. She handed it to Quinn, saying "I think this will help you get what you desire." Damon seemed unsure that this simple ring screamed "gay", but Quinn shrugged his recently renovated shoulders and said, "You never know what'll give you the key to your character." He studied it and a flicker of recognition flashed in his eyes. "This isn't one of those mood rings, is it? My dad told me he had one back in the Seventies. The color of the stone changed to show what your mood was." "Very similar principle," the old woman nodded. "Go ahead, put it on." Quinn slid it onto his left ring finger. He liked how it felt. The metal weight in an unfamiliar place gave him an immediate sense of otherness, like he wasn't just wearing a piece of jewelry but was wearing part of a different person, a new character. He looked closely at the stone and could detect a slight swirling in the darkness which settled into a deep, dark blue. "Huh, what do you know? It turned blue a little. What does that mean?" He placed his hand on the counter so the shopkeeper could examine the stone. She peered through squinted eyes, then glanced over her bifocals at Quinn and said, "That means you're a little gay." Quinn laughed uneasily, which made Damon cackle hysterically. He kidded Quinn, "Don't worry, sweetie, everyone's a little gay." But truthfully, as long as you set aside the fact that Quinn was an actor, Damon had never met anyone as comfortable in his heterosexuality as Quinn, and the straight women in the theater department always appreciated that Quinn was the one exception to the "all the good ones are gay" rule. Hearing Damon speak, the woman turned to him, almost as if she had just realized he was there. "Are you two a couple?" Quinn shook his head and waved his hands, saying, "No, no, no, no, no." Damon felt a little insulted. "Five no's? Could you be a little more emphatic there, buddy?" Quinn started to apologize when the woman pulled an identical ring from the jewelry box and handed it to Damon. "You try." Curious but a little scared, Damon slipped the ring onto his left ring finger. If Quinn's ring said he was "a little gay", Damon's ring would probably start shooting out rainbows and sparkles and unicorns while blasting "It's Raining Men". But after letting the mysterious liquid inside the stone swirl and settle, Damon's ring turned only a slightly brighter shade of blue than Quinn's. He held it out for the woman to evaluate. "This can't be right." "Oh, no, it's right," she assured him. "It's always right." Damon stared at the blue gem curiously, while Quinn flexed his hand repeatedly, getting a feel for the ring's weight. He told the woman, "It kind of grows on you." She nodded sagely. "I'll take it," Quinn said, pulling out his wallet. Damon was starting to pull off his ring, but Quinn stopped him. "Keep it, man. It looks good on you." Damon felt funny about it. "Won't it be kinda weird, you and me wearing matching rings?" "I'm only wearing mine for the audition. I'm serious, let me buy that for you. It matches your eyes." Damon was surprised and even a little turned on that Quinn had noticed the color of his eyes. Then again, actors were good at studying other people. Damon shook it off. Quinn got his change and thanked the woman behind the counter for her help. "Do you need anything else?", she asked. Pulling his t-shirt back on, Quinn glanced around the store and said, "No, I think I'm good." He stepped outside, with a puzzled Damon at his heels. "That's it? You buy one ring and you've got the character?" "No, but I don't think I need more clothes to do it." Quinn leapt energetically into the driver's seat and noticed the flyaway mess that his hair had become. "But I gotta fix this hair. Alexander wouldn't have this haircut. Where's there a good hair stylist?" Damon had never gone anywhere more stylish than Fantastic Sams, but he had a feeling Quinn needed something a bit more specialized. Damon searched on his iPhone for nearby salons while Quinn drove. Damon found one place on Santa Monica Boulevard that was still open, so he gave Quinn driving directions. Quinn was driving with his left arm propped in his open window, showing off the definition of his biceps and triceps as they emerged from his t-shirt sleeve. Quinn could swear he was noticing a lot more guys staring at him, and Quinn was someone who was used to being stared at. He even waved at a few as he passed. Seemed like what Alexander would do. When they arrived at the salon, the guy behind the counter with a shaved head, a septum ring and gauged earlobes looked too exhausted to deal with another customer, but when he looked up to see Quinn's smiling, hopeful face, he began to change his mind. Quinn explained that he desperately needed his hair styled for an audition in the morning. He even put his hand atop the counterman's pale slender hand which was splayed on the counter. Wow, thought Damon, he's really laying on the charm. And it worked. Soon Quinn was seated in a chair and getting his hair shampooed. The stylist glanced across the room at Damon, who was slumped in a chair, flipping idly through Frontiers magazine. "You gonna want a cut too?", asked the stylist. "No, I'm fine," said Damon. The stylist disagreed with that assessment of Damon's pedestrian haircut, with an indistinct part and uneven strands of lackluster brown hair straggling over his ears, but he said nothing and turned back to scrubbing Quinn's lush mane. Once it was washed, Quinn moved back to a barber's chair and stared at his reflection, his long hair wet and stringy, falling past his eyes. The stylist asked what Quinn was looking for. "I need something bold. Something that'll grab your attention, but won't look too radical for a guy in a business suit. What's that one where it's all kinda scrunched up in the middle?" "A fauxhawk?", replied the stylist. "Yeah, I want one of those." Damon looked up from his magazine, surprised. Quinn had been so casual, so lacking in vanity about his appearance in college. Quinn was plenty hot without bothering with fancy technology like, ya know, a comb. Still, Damon could imagine how sexy Quinn would look with a fauxhawk. It was even giving him a chubby. He had a bad habit of being attracted to straight boys, and Quinn had always been his kryptonite. He knew that it was futile and self-sabotaging to allow himself to muse about relationships that could never happen. Yet he found himself lost in Quinn's reflection in the mirror as the stylist set to work. Quinn was also getting aroused as chunks of his long hair were snipped away. It was like the stylist was sculpting the disorganized wad of yarn glued his head into something sleek and beautiful. Yes, yes, he was feeling the character more and more, getting a better fix on who he should be playing. He could practically see himself becoming the character in his reflection. With a flourish, the stylist removed the apron from Quinn, who was staring lustily at his newly gelled and peaked hairdo. Quinn spun in his chair to get Damon's opinion, but Damon was already standing, pointing to a photo in a book of sample hairdos and showing it to the stylist. "I want a fade." The stylist's shoulders sank, as he thought he was done for the day, but Quinn gave him a quick wink and he agreed. As the stylist buzzed the sides over Damon's ears down to bare skin, Damon started to wonder how he'd look with a different hair color, but he knew he'd be pushing his luck to ask the stylist to start a major project like that at this late hour. But as his new style took shape, Damon began to grin. It wasn't a radical change, but it also wasn't the same old boring haircut that had stared back at him since high school. He glanced behind him, where Quinn seemed to be studying an issue of Playgirl. Damon blinked his eyes, thinking there must be hair in them. "What you reading there, Q?" "Interesting article," Quinn said deadpan. Damon figured Quinn must be doing research into what he thought a gay guy would read. When the two men stepped back into the cool evening air, they both felt pounds heavier as their scalps felt the breeze. Quinn looked down at his shorter friend and smiled. "Da-amn, boy, you do look cute." Damon looked at Quinn skeptically, thinking back to Quinn's gradual metamorphosis into Stanley Kowalski back in college. Maybe this was just his process. "Just so I'm clear, you're just trying to get into character, right?" Quinn wrapped a strong arm around Damon's slender shoulders. "Aw, my little Damie, never could take a compliment." Quinn leaned down o kiss Damon lightly on the forehead. If this was Quinn's process, he was certainly disappearing into the role already. Damon checked his phone for the time. "Maybe we should head back to your place and I can help you memorize your script." "Fuck the lines," said Quinn, with a ferocity strange for someone who could usually beat Jack Johnson in a mellow-off. Quinn spotted the Rage nightclub up the street and started to drag Damon in that direction. "Let's go dancing!" "I thought you hated Rage." "I did. But I don't think Alexander does." Inside the packed club, Quinn was much chattier than he had been on his first night in town. In fact, he seemed downright comfortable, chatting and laughing with everyone who approached him. Damon hovered close enough to hear Quinn introducing himself to people as Alexander. Quinn pulled Damon over and started introducing him as "my boy Damon". Damon had done some role-playing games online and always felt too self-conscious about it, but he was getting off on playing this role. Even pretending to be Quinn's -- or Alexander's -- boy was a thrill, and he was going to enjoy it while it lasted. Quinn had already shed his t-shirt and was flexing in time with the music. Damon unbuttoned his silk shirt down to the base of his sternum. Any further exposure of his pale pasty skin would risk causing blindness to anyone who looked at it, and he'd never found his clumps of unsightly body hair to be aesthetically pleasing. Basically, Damon believed that the more of his body someone saw, the less likely they were to desire him. Ideally, to avoid turning off potential lovers, he would need to walk the streets in an Iron Man uniform. Quinn was getting sucked further away into the swirl of bodies, but Damon noticed that Quinn was constantly looking back to check on him. Eventually, Quinn squeezed his way back and they spent the remainder of the night dancing as a couple. When the pace slowed slightly, Quinn wrapped his arms around Damon's butt and hoisted him until Damon was looking down at Quinn. Quinn planted his lips on Damon's and kissed him hard. Damon closed his eyes, ecstatic, letting himself believe for a moment that what he was feeling from Quinn was real and not research. Fueled by Red Bulls and vodka, Quinn and Damon stayed until closing time. Damon was sure he would have a hangover at work tomorrow, but at the moment he was carefree and full of energy, literally skipping along the boulevard. Quinn strolled behind him, swinging his meaty arms loosely. "Okay, now we'll go home and do lines." Damon looked hopefully. "Cocaine?" Quinn rubbed his knuckles through Damon's new hairdo. "No, you knucklehead. Lines in the script." Damon giggled as they climbed into the convertible and headed back to Quinn's place. As Damon picked up the script from the floor of the car, he noticed the glow of his ring. The color had lightened since he first put it on. It now sparkled like a sapphire. He glanced over at Quinn, but couldn't see his ring, as Quinn was hanging his left forearm down along the outside of the car and pounding on the door in time with the music cranked on the car stereo. When they got back to the apartment, Quinn grabbed a couple of bottles of beer from the refrigerator and told Damon to make himself comfortable on the futon in the living room. Damon took a seat, sipped his beer and opened the script to the proper page, only to gasp as Damon returned to the living room wearing nothing but a pair of amply stuffed black briefs. "Aw, Damie, I told you to get comfortable. You're my expert on all this. I need you to tell me what I should be doing." Damon quickly flipped through the script. "Isn't it just a dialogue scene? I didn't see any sex scenes in the script." Quinn grabbed the script and flung it across the room. It slammed into the wall, snapping the fasteners and sending the pages fluttering to the floor. "Fuck the script. I need to know what it feels like to be inside you." Quinn pulled down his briefs and his rigid cock began to rise and grow. He worked the scrap of black cloth down both of his bulging thighs, then down the shins. He reached one big toe up to pull the briefs the rest of the way off. Then, holding the shorts between his toes, he tossed them directly into Damon's face. Damon closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, amazed to have this chance to inhale Quinn's musky scent. He pulled the briefs above his eyes and left them resting atop his new haircut. He giggled playfully and stared lustily at the golden-haired tower of muscle looming over him, standing with legs spread and a nine-inch cock pointing straight up, slapping flat against his abs and seemingly as wide as Damon's wrist. Jesus, Damon thought, he's staring at me. Right at my pathetic little body. And he's got a hard-on that could shatter glass. Fuck, thought Damon, this guy is a good actor. Damon tore open his gray shirt, losing a few buttons in the process. He unbuckled his pants but struggled to get them down before Quinn leapt upon him. Quinn shredded Damon's trousers and ripped off his boxers to discover Damon's slim, six-incher, fully erect. Quinn grunted and smiled, then eased his own cock gently into Quinn's asshole. "How's that?" Damon whimpered, never having had something that large inside him before. Quinn brushed Damon's cheek and kissed him. "You tell me if I'm hurting you, Damie. I just want to make you happy." Quinn took it slowly, gradually inserting more and more of his engorged cock into Damon. Damon was getting short of breath. He glanced down and saw Quinn's massive left hand wrapped around Damon's cock, stroking it in rhythm with the thrusts of his hips. Damon noticed the glint of Quinn's ring on the hand. The jewel was now sapphire blue, just like Damon's had been in the car. Curious, he glanced at his own ring and it had now lightened to a dazzling cyan. He felt all his inhibitions slipping away and surrendered to the power of Quinn. Or Alexander. Or whoever. Who cares? Damon screamed out, "Just fuckin' fuck me!" * * * Quinn slept deeply through the night, but his dreams were vivid. Amazingly, he had already reached a state that usually only came after weeks of rehearsal: he was dreaming in character. He knew he was ready to play a part when he had so deeply inhabited them that he no longer dreamt as himself, but as Stanley Kowalski, or George in "Virginia Woolf", or Estragon in "Waiting for Godot". (Man, if you think your dreams are hard to follow, try having some "Godot" dreams.) Somehow, with this Alexander character, he had gone from panic to serenity in a single night. He felt the power of Alexander's suddenly unleashed sexuality, the newfound sense of freedom that gave him, the strength he sought to exert over others, yet the tenderness he could exhibit to those he loved, like his boy Damie. That last part caused a slight glitch in the dream, as Quinn suddenly realized he was in a dream and tried to remember whether Damie was a character in the script or... No, Damie was his friend from college. Little Damon. How had he never noticed what a cutie Damie was all these years? Damie was always so shy. He must have been waiting for years for Alexander to make the first move. Fuck, no, that's not right. Alexander is the character. I'm Quinn. That's right, right? It was all intermingled, and suffused with a sense of well-being that seemed to have calmed his spirit. Yeah, now he remembered. He was in a panic all day about...something or other...and his little Damie came and made it all better. And they fucked until they collapsed. A familiar xylophone melody began to repeat and repeat in Quinn's brain, gradually rousing him from his slumber. He snuggled against the bare skin of Damon's back as they spooned on the futon. Damon remained blissfully asleep in Quinn's arms while the fog lifted from Quinn's brain. That music...it was the alarm on Damon's iPhone. What time was it? Quinn squinted until he finally spotted something with a clock: his microwave. 7:45. Fuck! The audition! When was the audition again? Quinn gently slid his arm out from underneath Damon, stood up and switched off the alarm. Morning wood slapping against his thigh, he wandered the living room naked in search of the title page of the script on which he had scribbled the time and place of his audition. Finally locating it, he discovered that he had a couple of hours of breathing room, although he still needed to memorize the lines. He wasn't worried though, because he already had the character. Quinn leaned down and kissed Damon on the cheek. "Morning, sexy. Time to get up." Damon grumpily opened his eyes and was rewarded with a view of Quinn's hard cock. He giggled sleepily and said in a lilting voice, "Mmm, is that for me?" "Not right now. Gotta get ready for my audition." "Can I help you?" "Not right now. I need to take a shower." Damon crawled across the futon with a smile, waggling his bouncy ass. "Can I help you?" Quinn felt tempted, but knew he had to get in and out fast so he could study his lines. He kissed Damon's forehead, then walked to the bathroom. Damon got hard just watching Quinn's broad back and dimpled butt cheeks as he left the room. That vision carried him to a speedy orgasm, spurting across the thatches of hair on his meagerly developed torso. He fell back into a giddy slumber, rubbing his fingers lazily through his own cum. Damon woke again when a shadow fell over his face. He looked up to see Quinn fully dressed in a gray business suit, the sunlight hitting the peaks of his freshly gelled fauxhawk. Quinn's cock rubbed softly against the material of his pants, as he'd decided that Alexander would go commando. Better to demonstrate his dominance over his rivals. Quinn nervously fiddled with a ring on his left hand, its jewel an entrancing bright shade of blue. "Gotta go, Damie. See you when I get back?" Smiling coyly, Damon sat up, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around his hairy legs. "I'll be here. Kiss for luck?" Quinn leaned down and planted his succulent lips on Damon's. They both closed their eyes to fully enjoy the sensation. Neither noticed the blue glow of their rings brightening further. After Quinn left for his audition, Damon made his way to the bathroom where he took a long hot shower. The gushing water kept him from hearing his phone ringing, as his office called to find out why he wasn't at work yet. Damon stepped from the shower and wiped the fog from the mirror. He had to admit, he really did look cute with his new haircut, but he grimaced the further he looked down. Those clumps of hair on his chest and the wet, clingy hair on his legs did not look cute at all. He grabbed Quinn's can of Barbasol and lathered up his chest and legs. It took him two of Quinn's razorblades to shave his chest and legs clean and, after he saw how that looked, another blade plus the rest of the Barbasol to take care of his pubes. As he lay his sleek new body back down upon the futon, Damie wondered how Q's audition was going. * * * Quinn's confidence that he would be cast in the soap opera peaked in the millisecond before he opened the door to the casting office. Once inside, he discovered several other strapping young men much like himself. VERY much like himself. Clearly the call had gone out for any actor who looked sufficiently similar to the one who had originated the role of Alexander, and the results of that quest were seated in this room. Blond, handsome, tall but not too tall. Their minor physical differences were outweighed by their striking similarities. Quinn had gotten used to being the go-to lead actor back in college, but he was now facing the reality of being a tiny fish trying to navigate the biggest sea in the acting world. Quinn checked in at the front desk and took his seat among the other prospective Alexanders, who were checking him out, both to evaluate him as their acting competition and, for many of them, just to check him out. At least his fears about playing a gay character had been erased by last night's events. As soon he had found that ring in the shop where Damon took him, something clicked in his mind. Never before had a single item of wardrobe given him such a strong sense of a character. He had been immersed in characters before, but last night, he felt positively possessed, seeing the world through Alexander's eyes, doing things he had never done before -- things he would never have considered doing before. But as the night went on, he realized he wasn't simply acting out of curiosity as research for a role; he was responding to irresistible physical urges...and he had to admit to himself that it felt tremendous. He only hoped that Damon didn't feel used and exploited, although from Quinn's semi-drunken memories of the night, it seemed like Damon had a gay old time. He had never seen Damon so loose, so happy, so free. * * * Back at Quinn's apartment, Damon was restless. He had checked his voicemail and discovered several messages from his workplace, asking where he was. He finally called back, explaining that he had misread some parking signs and his car had been towed. He promised to get to work as soon as possible, but he had no such intention. He wanted to be waiting here when Quinn returned triumphantly from his audition, so he could leap into Quinn's arms, smother him in kisses...and then fuck, fuck, fuck the night away. Although Damon had known he was gay since before he even knew it was a thing to be, he'd never felt as obsessed with sex as he did this morning. Sure, he had thought about the subject plenty, more in abstract terms than in genuine practice, but his mind had never before been whipped into such an orgy of nonstop salacious thoughts. It still seemed like some impossible dream that he had actually had sex with Quinn Brooks...and multiple times at that. But uncharacteristically, Damon wasn't dwelling on why Quinn suddenly found him attractive (or at least fuckworthy) and wasn't making mental wagers about how soon Quinn would inevitably turn his attentions elsewhere and leave Damon in misery. All that percolated through Damon's mind this bright morning was looking his best for his man ("his MAN"!!!) when he got back home. The drab clothes Damon had worn last night were no longer an option, as Quinn had shredded Damon's slacks and underwear when he tore them off Damon's body. Damon's gray shirt was slightly salvageable, since it had only lost a few buttons. Damon slipped it on, rolling up the sleeves and knotting the tails of the shirt in the front to expose his smooth, hairless tummy. Not terrible, Damon thought, but pretty blah. Surely he could find something with more pizzazz. He peeked through Quinn's drawers for some shorts, but anything big enough to accomodate Quinn was ridiculously huge on Damon's slim firame. None of Quinn's clothes hanging in his closet were appropriate either, but Damon did notice that Quinn's girlfriend Renee had left a few changes of clothes hanging there as well. Not only was her body closer to Quinn's size, but he admired her fashion sense. He felt a forbidden thrill as he slipped a spangly blue-and-white-striped top off its hanger, held it in front of himself and studied his reflection in the mirror. He pulled his gray button down over his head and slipped on Renee's top, its neck so wide that it exposed the slope of Damon's shoulder. A smile slowly grew on his lips. Yesterday, he would have felt embarrassed to wear anything so shiny or so feminine, but today it gave him a kick. He squeezed his way into a pair of her black leggings and was glad that the bottom of the shirt concealed the growing boner trapped within them. He would have to wash the leggings before Renee returned to town, so she wouldn't wonder why there was a stain of dried pre-cum in them. At least his own shoes still fit, although they were a ludicrous contrast to the outfit above them. Clearly he would need to run out and buy some new clothes if he was going to look good for Quinn, and this mismatched outfit would allow him to go into public. With his paltry savings, he couldn't suddenly become an au courant fashionista...but, hey, he thought with a giggle, that's why God invented credit cards! Damon stepped out of the apartment, realizing too late that the door was locking behind him. A day ago, Damon would have been frantic about getting locked out and mortified to be seen in public the way he was currently dressed. But instead, he shrugged it off and sashayed (there was really no better word for it) his little kiester down the sidewalk to where he thought he had parked his beat-up piece-of-shit Mazda. He looked up and down the street with a sinking feeling. Well, what do you know? That lie about his car having been towed because he didn't read the parking signs? It wasn't a lie after all. But again, instead of freaking out, Damon calmly pulled out his iPhone. * * * Quinn leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed as he went over Alexander's lines in his head for the millionth time in twenty minutes. He felt a vibration in his pants. He didn't want to be disturbed while he was so immersed in character. Still, what if it was important? What if it was a message from his agent? Or from Damon? He had to look. He slid the phone from his pocket and noticed that it was a text from Renee. He pushed the phone back in his pocket without reading the message. He couldn't lose his focus now. Besides, he had no clue what to tell her about last night. He probably shouldn't say anything. What if it was just a one-night fling, a dalliance fueled by an actor's need for new experiences to inform his performance? He still loved Renee, didn't he? Well, he liked her at least. After all, she was pretty and smart and understanding and... "Quinn Brooks?" Huh? What? Quinn heard someone calling his name. "Quinn Brooks?" The woman said it again, more impatiently. Quinn shook off his stupor and raised his hand. "Present!", he called, as if the woman were taking roll call. She gestured for him to proceed to the inner office. Quinn offered a hasty "Good luck" to his fellow actors in the waiting room and stepped inside. Three people seated behind a table stared at Quinn, impressed on first sight by his close resemblance to his predecessor in the role. They each informed Quinn who they were, but Quinn's mind was so scattered that all he heard was "words words name name words". Dammit, why had he looked at that text message? He was totally losing his focus. He brushed his left hand nervously through his fauxhawk, disheveling his carefully groomed look. The stone in his ring was darkening back toward a deep blue, verging on black. He gazed across the room at the three people evaluating him, as well as the bored guy manning a video camera behind them. Quinn found himself making friendly chit-chat. Dammit, that wasn't his plan! All morning, he had been in the zone. He had planned that, from the moment he walked into the audition room, he was going to take command of the situation and BE sly, conniving Alexander. But here he was, in front of the people who were going to decide his fate, and he heard his mouth on autopilot, lapsing back into friendly old Quinn, blathering about traffic and asking politely about getting his parking validated. Focus, man, focus! From somewhere, a voice asked Quinn to begin. He took a big breath and opened his mouth, but the words he had down stone cold just minutes ago were eluding him. It was the classic actor's nightmare of going dry. At least he wasn't naked too, although that would have given them something to focus on besides the lack of words coming from his mouth. Cringing, he put a shaky hand into the breast pocket of his suit coat and pulled out his script pages, hoping they would kick him back into gear. But he discovered they were in the wrong order and facing different directions. As he searched desperately for the first page, he could sense interest plummeting across the room. At last, he found the first line, which seemed dimly familiar. He cleared his throat and realized how parched he was. His tongue was practically cemented to the roof of his mouth. He grabbed a bottle of water that had been placed nearby for him. The cap was surprisingly tight and, when he finally loosened it, he was squeezing the plastic bottle so tight that a gusher of water shot out, dousing the crotch of his pants. Quinn stared at the dark wet blotch and wondered, where is cyanide when you need it? Quinn drained half of what remained in the bottle, then set it aside, glanced at the pages and began to recite his lines. Once he got rolling, the words were mostly there, so he only needed to consult the pages twice more for cues, but the character's voice, the one he had such a grip on all morning, was gone. It wasn't devious Alexander speaking his mind, it was just charming Quinn Brady lifelessly reciting some shit he had memorized. He may as well have been in a third-grade Earth Day pageant dressed as an oak tree for all the emotion he was investing in his performance. Once he finished, he was out the door in shame somewhere between when the casting director said "thank" and when she said "you". Quinn stormed through the outer office and into the parking lot, royally pissed at himself. He yanked off his necktie, wadded it up and hurled it into the backseat of his convertible. A voice in his head asked, "Is that really the best you can do?" Quinn told himself "no" as he struggled out of his coat. "I thought you were serious about this," said the voice. I am, Quinn insisted to himself. I love acting. "Well, then, show it, goddamn it!", urged the voice. I can't, I blew my shot, it's over, Quinn lamented as he stripped off his dress shirt. But the voice was screaming at him now, "Nothing is ever over unless you let it be over. You don't give up on what you need, you fight for it! Do you seriously think that I would just walk away?" Finally, Quinn realized the pep talk wasn't really from himself. It was the voice of Alexander, roaring back to life and asserting itself. The energy and intensity which had fueled Quinn last night were back, maybe even stronger than before. He marched back toward the casting office, still shirtless and with something to prove, flinging open the front door, crossing the lobby and barging into the inner room. An assistant chased after him, yelling that he couldn't go in there, but Alexander would not be stopped. Quinn pushed aside the startled blond guy who was in the middle of his audition and ignored the shouts from the folks behind the desk that this was unacceptable. "No, what's unacceptable is what I did before," said Quinn with fury. "I wasn't showing you who I truly was, what I had the potential to be. I had to get out of here and clear my head before I could see myself for who I am and realize I had unfinished business back here. I deserve to be here. Nothing is ever over unless you let it be over. You don't give up on what you need, you fight for it! Do you seriously think I would just walk away?" The words ran out. He had nothing more to say. His broad chest rose and fell with each deep breath, Quinn stared down the people behind the table, who looked like they had just witnessed a car bomb exploding. The bored camera guy was now alert and zooming in for a close-up of Quinn's face. The auditioner whom Quinn had interrupted felt compelled to applaud Quinn softly, realizing he could never have delivered a performance like that. Only as his adrenaline subsided did Quinn realize that everything he had said was actually from Alexander's lines in the script. But not only did they ring true for Alexander, they said what Quinn had needed to say. The folks behind the table consulted with each other in murmurs before the soap opera's director, a distinguished man with graying hair, a British accent and an approving smile, leaned forward and told Quinn, "Well, this is the part of the audition where we would usually ask you to take off your shirt, but you seem to have jumped the gun on that, dear boy." Quinn's piercing blue eyes gazed right back at the man. He radiated immense confidence, knowing that he had nailed it. He brushed his left hand slowly down his sweat-soaked chest and abs, unaware that the gemstone on his new ring had shifted back from a deep onyx to a blue lapis lazuli. * * * At first, the stylist did not recognize the waifish man getting out of the cab in front of the salon in the striped shirt, leggings and black Oxford shoes. But the stylist tended to have a good memory for his own work and, once the customer entered, he realized from the conservative brown fade that this was the meek pal of the gorgeous blond who had entered with such urgency the night before. The man walked gracefully to the counter and grinned conspiratorially at the stylist. "Remember me?" "Yeah, sure," said the stylist. "You were in here with that other dude last night." Damon liked being remembered for once, even if only as an afterthought to "that other dude". Actually, being remembered as having been "WITH that other dude" gave Damon quite a thrill. "I want to go further. Try something really radical." Damon described the look he was thinking of, then asked, "Do you do piercings here too?" Damon was surprised how long the process took to achieve what he wanted, but he knew it would be worth it, if only to see Quinn's reaction. As he waited for the process to complete, he decided he might as well get a mani/pedi while he was waiting. The cute boy tending to Damon's nails suggested a facial to clean out Damon's pores, so that was added to the credit card too. When Damon finally stepped outside, it was after noon. He checked his phone but hadn't received a call or text from Quinn. He hoped that was a good sign, but didn't want to jinx it by calling Q and asking. Catching his reflection in the salon window, Damon could hardly believe he was looking at himself, but these hand-me-down rags from Renee were not cutting it. He knew just where to go, so he phoned for another cab. The white-haired old woman was behind the counter at his favorite funky clothes shop again. In fact, he never remembered seeing anyone else working the register in all the times he'd shopped here. Well, browsed. He loved looking at the clothing, and had enjoyed trying on some of the milder outfits in the dressing room, but he never dreamt of wearing any of it out of here. Today, though, he wanted to buy everything he tried on, no matter how outlandish. All that held him back was a nagging voice in the back of his head reminding him that his credit card did have a limit. He brought a pile of items to the counter. As he pulled out his wallet, the woman behind the register noticed a familiar ring on his left hand, silver with a shiny turquoise stone. She studied Damon's face and was amazed. She knew the effects her jewelry could have, but had never seen such a radical change in a customer in such a short time. "Oh, it's you! I take it you are pleased with the ring." Damon held up the back of his hand and looked at the stone, mesmerized by its color. "I absolutely love it." "And your friend?" "Oh, yeah, it was exactly what he needed!" The woman was relieved. Although she had known immediately that the man before her was gay, albeit very introverted, she was a bit worried when the friend's ring had turned only slightly blue. She bought all of her jewelry from an old hippie living in an abandoned filling station near Ojai who had hyped his products by saying they had magical powers which would help the wearer become "self-actualized" and "live their life to its greatest potential". He ascribed different miraculous abilities to his various rings and necklaces and bracelets. The shopkeeper had been in the business long enough to have lived through the fads of crystals and pyramid-power, to have gone to EST seminars and had herself tested with an e-meter, so she figured this guy was just trafficking in another new line of bullshit, but she liked his designs, so she bought a few samples. The rings she had sold to the men last night were part of what he called his XY line. The jewelry maker claimed that they could detect the wearer's position on the sexuality spectrum. If the stone was pitch black, the wearer was uncontrovertibly heterosexual. The bluer the stone became, the more the wearer embraced their homosexuality. The storekeeper initially assumed the jeweler was just trying to unload crates of unsold mood rings from the Seventies with a modern angle that might make them appealing to gay couples getting married. (He also offered an XX line for lesbians, which accounted for the hot pink stone on the saleswoman's ring finger.) But the jewelry maker assured her that what made the rings mystical was their power to nudge the wearer along that sliding scale until they reached the point where they felt most comfortable in their own skin. At first, that seemed like an extravagant claim, but the saleslady had seen the jeweler's promises borne out hundreds of times now and, from the evidence before her, Damon had become far more comfortable with his gayness since last night. After she finished ringing up Damon's items on the antique cash register, the saleslady asked if Damon needed anything else. "Or perhaps a gift for you friend?" Damon would love to surprise Q with a gift, but he hesitated, informing the saleslady, "I don't want to buy him any clothes, because they might be too small for him. If he gets this new job today, they're probably going to want him to pack on a lot more muscle." She heard the magic word and brought out her jewelry box, selecting a pair of wide bracelets made from leather and silver. They had a very rough-hewn macho look, like something a gladiator or Thor would wear, and Damon thought Quinn would look fierce in them. "I'll take them!", he shouted without even asking the price. The saleslady rang it up and noticed that Damon was still studying the jewelry box in search of something else. "I don't suppose you sell...another kind of ring." "What kind of ring?" Damon blushed, his freshly-cleansed pale skin serving as a flesh-and-blood mood ring, turning practically scarlet. Although no one else was in the store, Damon still felt embarrassed to ask, so he whispered his request in the saleslady's ear. She nodded and gestured for him to follow her into the back of the shop. * * * Quinn was pumped! After Quinn's cloudburst of an audition, the director asked him to remain in the area for a while until they finished seeing the other actors. So, for a couple of hours, Quinn wandered the parking lot, picked up a protein shake from the Jamba Juice at the mall across the street, then returned to his car to wait until the director needed him again. God, he loved it here. Back home, the leaves would be falling soon and the air would be turning crisp already, while he could sit in his convertible with the seat leaned back and his shirt off, working on his tan. An assistant finally came out to tell Quinn they were ready for him. When he started to put his shirt back on, the assistant told him, "That won't be necessary." Quinn returned to the audition room, expecting to do a full audition, since he'd only said about ten sentences during his earlier tirade, but the director informed him they had heard enough. Quinn felt dejected, like he was being held after school to get a scolding on the way real professionals behave. Instead, the director informed Quinn that he had the role. Inside his head, Quinn felt like leaping ten feet high, but he retained his reserved Alexander-ish demeanor and simply stated, "You won't be sorry." Once he was on the studio lot, Quinn would have a personal trainer in the show's private fitness center, but since Quinn's first episode wouldn't shoot for a couple of weeks, they wanted him to hit the gym heavily in the meantime. His body was well on its way to perfection, but for maximum tittilation value, the soap writers set a high proportion of the show's scenes in bedrooms, bathrooms, locker rooms, saunas, massage parlors, laundry rooms -- anyplace that the male actors could conceivably display a lot of skin. For a story arc about an academic cheating scandal, the writers had even bandied about the notion of a clothing-optional library. Wags in the press had long ago dubbed the show "Topless Hospital" and "The Hung and the Shirtless". "As a gay character," the director said to Quinn, "it would seem unlikely that your physique would be less spectacular than the straight characters, wouldn't you say? You do feel comfortable playing a gay character, don't you?" "Absolutely," said Quinn as his ring became a touch more brilliant. Quinn wanted to share the good news with Damon immediately, but he didn't want to do it over the phone. He wanted to see Damon's face. He leapt into the convertible without even opening the door and sped back to his apartment. Climbing out, he slipped on a ribbed purple tank top from his gym bag, slung his dress shirt, suit coat and tie over his arm and walked toward his front door. A veritable bunker of shopping bags was piled by his front door, and extending from behind them were two alluringly slim, smooth legs, feet in blue flip-flops with blue painted toenails. Had Renee already returned from her commercial shoot in Baja? Shit, she did send him that damn text message this morning and he never even looked at it. But why was she sitting outside, when she had Quinn's spare key? "I'm sorry, baby. You been waiting long?", said Quinn as he rounded the corner. "I don't mind," said the soft-voiced man seated on Quinn's welcome mat. Quinn leapt back, startled by the stranger, then became even more startled when he realized this was no a stranger. It was Damon, but he was virtually unrecognizable from the sexual dynamo he'd left on his futon this morning, let alone the shy and awkward man he had he known since college. "I didn't see your car out front," said Quinn, as if that was the reason for the look of shock on his face. "Fascist cops towed it away. I must have parked where I shouldn't have. Far as I'm concerned, they can keep it. I can't be seen in a monstrosity like that." Damon struggled to his feet and pointed to some of the shopping bags surrounding him. "Can you help me with these, babe?" Quinn grabbed two bags and unlocked the door. Damon preceded him into the living room, and Quinn was hypnotized by the waggle of Damon's ass in white short-shorts that ran out of fabric before his glutes ran out of curves. A baby-blue fishnet tank top covered Damon's now hairless torso, and silver studs now adorned both of his earlobes. His fingernails were coated with the same navy-blue nail polish as his toenails, and his face had a refreshed appearance that made him appear even more boyish than usual. But it was Damon's hair that commanded the most attention. Although it had been buzzed to the scalp on the sides last night, the top had been left fairly thick and messy. Now, the hair on top was dyed a rich shade of blue that matched his eyes and stood in dozens of gelled spikes. Damon couldn't help admiring himself in the reflection on the microwave door. "Maybe I read too much anime as a kid and had too many crushes on cartoon Asian boys with blue hair, but I fuckin' love it. Don't you fuckin' love it?" He could never have imagined it, but Quinn had to admit that it did work with the rest of Damon's new look. "I do, but it's so...different." "Different is what I want. I've had 23 years to be the same." Damon sat his little butt on the edge of the futon and leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees as he looked up expectantly at Quinn. "So...how did the audition go?" Quinn wanted to draw out the suspense, but he was so eager to share the news, he was about to burst. He spoke softly with as blank an expression as he could manage. "I got it." Damon's high-pitched squeal triggered a frenzy of barking from the dogs next door. Just as he had envisioned, Damon leapt into the air, wrapping his slender arms around Quinn's neck and his bare legs around Quinn's waist. Quinn gave Damon a soulful French kiss and inhaled deeply. "What have you been drinking? You taste like Kool-Aid", he asked when he pulled his mouth away from Damon's. "Oh, I'm wearing fruit-punch-flavored lipstick," Damon explained. "Just a little. Also a little eyeliner. And some mascara. You like?" "As the actor in this relationship, I thought I'd be the one wearing the makeup." He smiled, then noticed Damon's expression suddenly turning serious. "What's the matter?" Damon seemed ready to sob. "You just called this a relationship." He grinned as a tear formed in the corner of his eye and, for the first time in his life, Damon had to worry about runny mascara. Quinn hugged Damon's thin ribcage tightly, fearing he could snap the poor little guy if he squeezed any harder. "Oh, I got you a gift," Damon declared, motioning for Quinn to lower him to the floor. "To congratulate you for getting the part." "But you didn't know I'd gotten the part." "Positive thinking!", Damon shouted as he rummaged through his shopping bags. Quinn thought Damon was nearly broke, but he had clearly gone on a massive shopping spree. Damon flung bright pastel shirts and gold lame vests and sequined socks onto the floor. Quinn even thought he spotted Renee's striped shirt and black leggings among the pile, but he was sure he was mistaken. Finally, Damon found what he was looking for and handed the two leather and silver cuffs to Quinn. "For my macho macho man," Damon said. Quinn looked at them, impressed with the craftsmanship but unsure if they were exactly him. "Thank you so much, Damie, but you really shouldn't have." "I should have and I did. Try them on!" Quinn unbuckled them and strapped them onto each wrist. Just like when he tried on the ring last night, he felt a comforting warmth in his body as soon as the cuffs were in place. Maybe they weren't Quinn's type of accessory, but he could certainly see Alexander wearing them. They felt like battle armor, like something Alexander the Great might have worn leading his troops. Maybe Alexander in the soap sees himself as a modern-day Alexander the Great, Quinn thought. Not that Quinn knew much about Alexander the Great, aside from that stupid movie his girlfriend at the time made him watch where Colin Farrell and Jared Leto had the hots for each other. "Mmmm, Colin and Jared," thought Quinn. "Maybe that movie was better than I gave it credit for." A slight buzz and heaviness spread through his muscles, as if he had just finished a heavy workout -- which reminded him... "I gotta go work out. They said I'm gonna have a lot of shirtless scenes, so the show wants me to get more ripped." Damon grinned. "My heavens, I am gonna watch this show on a constant loop." "You wanna come work out with me? Then afterwards, we can have a celebratory dinner." Damon, for whom working out had always been a slog, clapped excitedly, then searched his bags for his new workout clothes. When they arrived at the gym, for once it was Damon drawing the curious eyes. Not that Quinn was completely ignored, but here he was but one of hundreds of muscleheads. As far as Quinn could tell, Damon was the only blue-haired pixie in a Madonna "True Blue" t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, old-fashioned scrotum-length running shorts and electric-blue Chuck Taylors. As Quinn headed toward the free weights, Damon hung back by the treadmills. "Aren't you coming over to lift with me?", Quinn asked. "I'm gonna work on my calves. You go play with the lummoxes. But I'll have my eye on you, Q, so don't get too friendly with any of them." "Promise," Quinn said, rushing back for a kiss and another dose of Damon's fruity lipstick, which he would continue to taste throughout his workout. Quinn was practically delirious. He was prone to falling into relationships quickly, with his swift courtship of Renee being the most recent example, but he'd never felt quite so smitten with anyone as he was with Damon. Then again, it's not like they rushed into this. They had been acquainted for several years already, but until yesterday Quinn hadn't even acknowledged certain tendencies in himself. He always was a little slow to catch on. Quinn worked his way in with the muscle beasts whose inflated bodies made him feel puny. He never wanted to look that absurd, and would draw the line if the show suggested that he take steroids or any other drugs. He wanted any muscle growth to be natural -- unaware that, as soon as he began to lift wearing the new cuffs that Damon had given him, they would start to work their own mysterious magic on his muscle tone. It started slowly, as he noticed that the usual weights he could curl and bench felt surprisingly easy today. He attributed that to his great mood and the adrenaline rush of landing the part on the soap. But when he moved up to the next heaviest weight, that too was a breeze. He had to go up a full fifty pounds before he started feeling any strain at all. With each set of curls, his arms were swelling massively, his biceps veins snaking in sharp relief on top of them. By the end of his workout, he was handling as much weight as the WWE wannabes surrounding him, and his bulging muscles were testing the limits of the seams on his tank top. Sprinting on the treadmill, Damon watched with fascination, turned on by the sight of Quinn's expanding lats within his purple tank. When the two men hit the showers together, Damon didn't even attempt to hide the erection he was getting. Quinn had never been one to check out other guys' dicks in the locker room, but he figured Damon was fair game now. He was amazed to see that Damon's cock was several inches longer than it had been last night -- bigger than Quinn's now! -- and was that...a cock ring? Yup, the silver beauty that Damon had been afraid to ask for out loud was now working its own form of magic on Damon. Back in the locker room, Quinn attempted to pull on his plaid flannel shirt, but it was tight on his arms in a way it never had been before. When he tried to pull the buttons toward the buttonholes, he heard loud ripping sounds as the sleeves separated at the shoulder and his lats tore a slit straight down the back. He was maintaining an incredible post-workout pump, with a deep crevice between his pecs and sharper definition in his abs. His briefs were a tighter squeeze than usual. He had to lie down on a bench and pull like hell to get his pants over his quads, and there was no way his zipper was going all the way to the top. His sneakers were the only things that fit remotely well. He lay on the bench, defeated and barely clothed. "I'd say our Q needs to go shopping again," said Damon, hovering over him, amused. Quinn looked up and witnessed the latest incarnation of Damon. He had washed out the gel, so his blue hair now hung across his forehead in choppy bangs that grazed his eyebrows. He wore a silver button-down shirt with the short sleeves rolled up to display his modest biceps, a vintage hand-painted necktie, tight tweed slacks turned up at the cuffs, baby-blue socks and black-and-white wingtips. Quinn suddenly felt like a schlub. "I'll only go shopping if you pick out what I buy." Quinn entered Damon's favorite shop wearing sweatpants and no shirt. The same saleslady was at her usual post, and she noticed the cuffs on Quinn's wrists and the dramatic renovations they had already performed on his body. Quinn wasn't nearly as fussy as he had been last night. With the ring and now the leather cuffs, he felt he'd truly found his center as Alexander...and he felt pretty secure as Quinn too. The selection of clothes that fit Quinn's new size was limited, but when he tried on a blue sharkskin suit, Damon swooned. Quinn didn't want to invest in more clothes right now, not knowing if today's growth spurt was a one-time event, but this ought to do for tonight. They found a romantic French restaurant where they only had to wait two hours for a table, giving time for the men to have their longest sustained conversation ever. Damon's memories of his own past seemed to be receding like a bad dream, with only the past 24 hours feeling real to him, so they mostly talked about their hopes for the future. After an extraordinary candlelit dinner fueled by much wine, Damon asked if he could drive the convertible home. Quinn asked, "Can you drive a stick?" Damon cupped a hand under the newly hefty bulge in his pants and assured Quinn that he could. Damon tooled down Wilshire Boulevard, frequently glancing over at the sharp-dressed hunk in the passenger seat and smiling. When he passed the usual turn-off, Quinn asked, "Wasn't that my street?" Damon just smirked and kept driving toward the setting sun. When they arrived at the coast, a jazz band was playing a free concert on the Santa Monica Pier. Damon parked the car and led Quinn toward the music. They hung on the edge of the crowd, Quinn with his arms around Damon, taking in the sights and sounds of the band and the sky and the ocean and the carnival rides, while remaining in their own little world. As a slow song began to play, Quinn asked if Damon would like to dance. "I thought you would never ask," said Damon. "Literally." Having been performing in musicals since he was in seventh grade, Quinn was by far the superior dancer, but he took it easy on his partner, just swaying back and forth as Damon rested his blue hair against Quinn's chest. Quinn stared at the darkening sky and wondered how it was possible for his life to have changed so radically in a single day. He had no idea that Damon was thinking the same thing. When the concert ended, they returned to the convertible. This time Quinn drove, with Damon reclining so his head rested in Quinn's lap. He offered to blow Quinn as he drove, but Quinn did not want to end this perfect day by plowing into a freeway overpass while cumming on his windshield. Damon agreed to wait until they got home, contenting himself with nuzzling the hardening bulge under Quinn's shiny pants. Once they reached Quinn's place, they had almost completely undressed each other in the short distance between the car and the front door. They stumbled inside and fell immediately onto the futon. Damon's cock grew stiff and rigid as he kneaded Quinn's impressive new muscles. He pushed Quinn down and straddled him, guiding the head of his cock toward Quinn's ass. Quinn flinched. "What're you doing down there, young man?" "I'm taking my new pink Cadillac for a test drive," Damon grinned. "First you drive my convertible, now this? When did you get so aggressive?" "Since I realized what I wanted." Damon eased the head of his cock into the virgin territory of Quinn's tight hole. Quinn shouted, his arms spread wide to grip the sides of the futon, his ring now a bright turquoise, just like Damon's. Damon bent down and kissed Quinn's chest, whispering, "It's okay, baby, it's okay." As Damon's cock pressed deeper inside of him, the agony shifted to pleasure for Quinn, as he experienced a feeling he never knew he could crave. He spread his powerful hands over Damon's ass cheeks and helped provide thrust for Damon. When Damon came inside Quinn, they both moaned with satisfaction. After cuddling for a while, Damon offered to let Quinn fuck him, but Quinn took a rain check, already having had more excitement today than he could have possibly expected. "In that case," said Damon, "I need to take a leak." He leapt from the futon and scurried naked into the bathroom. Quinn lay spread-eagled, toying with his semi-hard cock and suddenly feeling envious of Damon's endowment. Moonlight filtered through the venetian blinds, illuminating the floor which was scattered with their discarded clothes and Damon's purchases from earlier in the day. Quinn noticed a shadow moving past the blinds, but thought nothing of it until he heard a key sliding into the lock. He scrambled to find something to wear as the door swung open and Renee switched on the lights. She was lugging two suitcases and looked haggard, her usually stylish hair now a straggly mess. Quinn had only managed to get one leg of his sharkskin pants up to his knee. "Renee! You're here!", shouted Quinn, trying to make up in volume what he lacked in enthusiasm. She rubbed her eyes with exhaustion. "The shoot was canceled because a hurricane was heading for Baja. Didn't you get my text?" Oh fuck, Quinn thought, I never did read that fucking text. "Yeah, of course I did. I just didn't expect you back so soon." Renee glanced at the shambles of the room and said, "No, apparently not. What the hell happened here?" "I, uh, just went on a shopping spree to celebrate. I wanted to wait to tell you when you got back. I got the part on that soap!" "You did? That's great, honey." She walked over to hug Quinn, who gave her a friendly hug back. Renee was amazed by Quinn's size. "My god, how did you get so huge?" "What do you mean? Just good diet and exercise." Renee cast a skeptical eye. "I've only been away for two days. Nobody balloons like this in two days." She looked at the slim-fitting clothes strewn about the floor. "I'll tell you one thing, you're never going to fit into any of these baby clothes you bought. Didn't you try any of them on before you bought them?" Just then, Renee noticed her own striped shirt and leggings among the other clothes. She picked them up and showed them to Quinn. "What are these doing out?" "I don't know. Honestly." And he WAS being honest. About that. Renee heard a flush in the bathroom and her eyes turned accusingly toward Quinn. "Do you have another woman here?" "What? No. NO. Absolutely not. Listen, why don't you go back to your place and get a good night's sleep and we can talk about all this in the morning when we've got clearer heads?" He tried maneuvering her toward the front door, but she outflanked him and dashed toward the bathroom door. She was about to knock when some naked twink with blue hair and a silver cock ring swung the door open. He smiled with surprise upon seeing Renee. "Oh, hi!", he said, grinning. But as Renee reeled, looking back and forth from Quinn to Damon and trying to piece together what was going on, Damon put a hand to his lips and said, with concern, "Oh." Renee felt like she had stepped into an alternate universe. The last thing she expected when she returned to L.A. was to discover her boyfriend Quinn's body had suddenly become so jacked. No, that's not true. The last thing she expected was to discover a blue-haired boytoy hiding naked in Quinn's bathroom. Scratch that. The last thing she expected was to discover that the blue boy in question was that sweet mild-mannered guy Damon who had first introduced Renee to Quinn. She was now seated at Quinn's kitchen table across from Quinn and Damon. As soon as Damon emerged from the bathroom, Renee demanded an explanation. Quinn said she was owed that, but asked if they could at least get dressed first. Quinn pulled on the pants of the sharkskin suit he had bought earlier in the evening but he remained distractingly shirtless. Damon poked through the piles of his new clothes that were scattered around the living room floor, his pale white butt pointing up as he bent down. Renee turned away, embarrassed...after first taking an astonished look at Damon's surprisingly hefty penis. She would never have suspected he was so gifted down there, proving that you can't judge a cock by its cover. Damon finally slipped into a bowling shirt and a pair of fashionably pre-torn blue jeans and walked over to the table, handing Renee a blue-and-white striped shirt and some black leggings. "These are actually yours." "Yes, I know." Renee tossed them aside. "Do you have anything else that's actually mine?" Damon shook his head silently. Damon took a seat beside Quinn at the table. He wanted so much to lean against Quinn's powerful shoulder for support, but that wouldn't be helpful in this situation. Instead, he brought his left foot onto his chair, placed both hands upon his hairless knee where it poked through a hole in his jeans, then rested his chin upon his hands. Quinn sat upright with his hands folded on the tabletop. Arms crossed, Renee took a deep breath and tried to speak as calmly as possible. "So, can you tell me what exactly I walked into here?" Quinn and Damon looked at each other with puzzled expressions. Neither was quite positive how to describe what had happened in the past day and a half. Damon deferred to Quinn, who took his best shot. "Well, you know I was having trouble getting a fix on this character I auditioned for." "The gay guy," said Renee. "Right, the gay guy. I just wasn't feeling like I had a grasp of who he was, what he would look like, how his mind worked, what his needs were. So I asked Damie...Damon to come over and give me his advice." "I see. And where did he give his advice first? In your mouth or in your ass?" Both Damon and Quinn were outraged by this remark and shouted loudly. Renee immediately regretted it, and she motioned for the guys to quiet down. "I'm sorry. That was rude. But I think you can understand that this all has me a little...shaken up." Quinn reached over and held her right hand in his left. "I do understand. These past couple of days have been a whirlwind for us too." Renee looked down at Quinn's comforting hand and noticed the unfamiliar turquoise ring on his finger. Confused, she glanced over at Damon and saw an identical piece of jewelry on his hand. She let go of Quinn's hand. "Are you guys wearing matching rings?" Quinn pulled his hand back, and Damon covered his ring with his chin. Quinn insisted, "It's not what you think. It's not like we're a couple or anything." Damon glanced at Quinn, miffed. It may have been a whirlwind, but Damon had indeed begun thinking of them as a couple. "Oh, so you're not a couple," said Renee. "You just happen to have bought each other identical rings." "We didn't buy them for each other. I bought them both," said Quinn, not exactly helping. Renee looked at the clock on the microwave. It was 2:17am and she felt ready to collapse. "Can you just tell me if you two have been...doing this since we started dating?" Before Quinn could reply, Damon reached across the table and took Renee's hand. "No, Renee. I would never in a million years try to break up a couple." Renee stared at Damon's painted nails, then looked him in the eyes. "Isn't that precisely what you've done?" She then turned to Quinn and said, "I guess I can't be totally surprised. I've dated enough actors to know...that I should stop dating actors. But you're such a regular dude. I have a hard time picturing you being happy with..." She tried to come up with an apt description of the blue-haired waif across the table. "With some refugee from a rave." She stood, taking her shirt and leggings in her arms. She crossed the room, opened the front door, grabbed her suitcases and said, "I'll come back tomorrow and pick up the rest of my things. Let me know when you two won't be here. I wouldn't want to interrupt anything." She walked outside and the door closed behind her. Quinn stared at the door, feeling sad for Renee without feeling any remorse for what he and Damon had done. Damon also felt bad for Renee but had no regrets. He and Quinn had merely been carried away by irresistible, repressed longing for each other, right? Right? Quinn had run out of words for the day. He walked over to the futon and fell onto it face-first. Within a minute, he was snoring. Damon walked over, sat beside Quinn on the bed and slid his hand gently across Quinn's broad, well-muscled back. Damon glanced at his clothes scattered about the floor and began to put them back in his shopping bags. He slipped on his flip-flops, quietly carried his bags outside and gently shut the door behind him. On his iPhone, he looked up the address for the city impound lot, then called a taxi to take him there to get his car. * * * In the morning, Damon woke up alone and naked on his own futon, back in his own crummy apartment. He looked at the pile of shopping bags heaped by the front door and knew he had to go back to work today to start building up the money to pay off his credit cards. He walked into the bathroom and took a look in the mirror. He had looked so different the last time he was at work, a mere two days ago. He was bound to be the talk of the office today, walking in with blue hair and pierced ears. He could minimize the impact by removing the blue nail polish and wearing some of his lackluster old clothes, but he'd be slipping right back into the old camouflage that had kept people from noticing him for so long. He didn't plan to hide himself any more. Let them talk. Damon could handle it. The arrival of the new version of Damon in the office was almost a non-event. Partly it was because Damon had chickened out a bit and worn the least showy of the various outfits he had bought yesterday, even if a coral polo, white cargos and leather sandals were nothing like the nondescript clothes he typically wore. Partly it was because they were in L.A., where it seemed that most of the population lived their lives in a constant quest to be noticed, discovered and given their own reality show. But mostly it was because no one was really surprised that Damon was gay, no matter how meek and restrained his behavior had been. The blue hair was a surprising choice, but perhaps he had needed to make a bold, definitive statement. Most of his co-workers just felt relieved that they could stop using neutral pronouns when asking Damon if he had a "significant other" of if he had any plans to do anything with "anyone" on a holiday weekend. * * * Quinn's dreams were stressful all night. When he woke up, he felt like he'd just spent six hours watching Renee, Damon and Alexander have one non-stop argument. That's odd, thought Quinn. Why was Alexander in the fight and not me? But Alexander had been more forceful in defending his position than Quinn had been when he was trying to explain things to Renee. Alexander was unapologetic. If he wanted something -- or someone -- he found a way to get it, and felt no regrets for anyone who got hurt in the process. Much better than wishy-washy Quinn who might put on a tough act but, as soon as the performance ended, went right back to trying to be everyone's friend. Right now, Alexander's viewpoint had greater clarity, and seemed to be more defensible. Quinn noticed the time and would have to hustle to get to the studio for his first meeting with the cast and crew. No time for a shower, and as he reached for his deodorant, he realized he felt no need to cover up his natural scent. Checking himself in the mirror, he could swear he looked even more pumped this morning. His serratus anterior were much more clearly defined over his ribs, and the V leading into his shorts was more prominent. The stay-at-home moms of America -- as well as the gay guys with DVRs -- were going to enjoy seeing Alexander back on their favorite soap. He pulled on the white Oxford shirt he had worn last night, rolling up the cuffs to expose the bracelets that Damon had given him. His chest must have expanded overnight too, as the top three buttons of the shirt couldn't reach their buttonholes. He tucked the shirt tails into his sharkskin pants, the only pants he owned that would fit him any more. Quinn felt his ego swell as he gave his name at the gate and was waved onto the lot. Sure, it was only a soap opera, but he could tell you a dozen great actors who served their time in soaps on their way to the Oscars. All he needed was a platform where people could notice him and he would be on his way. A staffer from the show met him and guided him to the soundstage, where he spotted Lionel, the British director he had met yesterday at the audition. He was reintroduced to the show's producer and head writer, Betsy, who had also been there. She complimented him on his performance. "I've never seen anyone rebound from catastrophe to triumph quite so spectacularly. That's just what we want to see in Alexander." Lionel breezed over and asked Betsy a quick question before the next take. He was delighted to see Quinn. "Why if it isn't our Alexander! Good to see you again, my boy. And aren't you fliing out that shirt nicely today. Don't get too used to that. You know our motto here: It's either 'no shirts' or 'no show'." Betsy led Quinn on a quick tour of the set and introduced him to more people than he could ever hope to remember, including the cameramen, makeup people, even the other writers. When they got to wardrobe, two costumers sized up the new arrival. "It'll be a pleasure to dress you," said a slender young man, while his older female counterpart remarked, "Before the writers figure out how to undress you." "Yeah, I've heard that clothing isn't a big chunk of the budget here," said Quinn. Betsy asked Quinn to take off his shirt. "Maybe it'll give our designers here some ideas." Quinn did as he was asked, although he figured the male costumer was already getting ideas before Quinn disrobed. Betsy was surprised to see how pumped Quinn looked today. "That's funny. We were a little worried that you weren't buff enough yesterday, but I can't imagine why we thought that." "Ooh," said the young designer, "I really like those leather cuffs. You'll have to tell me where you got them. And what an interesting ring. Is that sapphire?" "Honestly, I don't know what it is. But I was hoping I could actually wear these things on the show. They seem like the sort of stuff that Alexander would wear, and they really helped me find the character." Betsy nodded and said they would consider it. As the designers took initial measurements for Alexander's wardrobe. Quinn idly fiddled with his ring. His fingers had grown beefier, like the rest of his body. They might be forced to let him wear the ring as part of his costume, because it didn't seem like it was going to budge. He heard a knock on the door and saw three very fit and handsome young men hanging in the doorway. "We heard there was new meat," said the swarthy one in the front. "Welcome to Topless Hospital, Alexander." * * * At the end of the workday, several of Damon's co-workers asked if he wanted to join them at happy hour to celebrate the end of the week. Damon was surprised and attributed their friendliness to his new look and attitude. If he thought back, he would have recalled that they were all very friendly to him when he started on the job, frequently inviting him to go drinking or to come to someone's party, but after Damon consistently turned them down out of shyness and insecurity, they stopped asking. Damon still turned them down tonight, but at least he had a genuine excuse to offer for once. "I think I'll be doing something with my fr...my BOYfriend," he smiled, shutting down his computer. He felt light on his feet as he strolled to the parking garage and called Quinn. Damn. Voicemail. "Hi, babe, it's Damon. Damie. Hope everything was extra special on your first day! I was thinking we could go out for sushi and then I saw online there's a big dance at Arena which we might want to do after." Maybe he was being too bossy. Didn't want to spoil things by pushing too hard. "Unless you've got other ideas. Whatever. Anyway, give me a call and let me know, okay? Okay, byeeee." He hung up and considered texting too, but he didn't want to seem too needy. Quinn was probably still busy at the studio. Damon was sure he would call back when he got the chance. * * * "More tequila!", shouted Enrico, who played a brooding but sexy doctor on the soap. He was seated at the innermost side of the round booth at the Mexican restaurant, with each arm hanging over the shoulders of a large-breasted young woman. "And more chips!", shouted Terry, who played a streetwise but sexy doctor on the soap and whose entire left hand was currently inserted below the waistline of the tight jeans worn by the buxom young woman who was currently nibbling his ear in the booth. "And more salsa!", shouted Chad, who played a naive but sexy doctor on the soap and was currently "Lady and the Tramp"-ing a nacho chip clenched in his teeth, crunching his way toward the giggly young woman attempting to keep the other end of the chip between her front teeth. "And more tequila!", shouted Quinn, who had just spent his first day getting to know his future co-stars and was now getting a first-hand glimpse of the kind of raucousness one could drum up on a Friday night with the benefit of minor televised fame and a secure paying gig. Not that outgoing, handsome guys like these would have had trouble making friends at any bar they entered, but they became even more popular when they told these girls that they were footing the bill. Terry leaned over to Quinn and whispered, "We know you're not on salary yet. We'll cover you too. Just have fun!" At the moment, Quinn was having fun with the petite young woman sitting on his knee who was rubbing her hand across the smooth skin of Quinn's chest through the gap in his open shirt. She couldn't stop telling him how much she loved men with big muscles. Someone else at the table must have felt the same way, as Quinn felt bare toes sliding their way under the cuff of his pants and along his shin. At first, he suspected "Lady", but she was sitting fully on the bench of the booth with her feet tucked underneath her butt. No, the mystery footsie player was "the Tramp". Chad may be playfully eating chips for the rest of the world to see, but his tootsies were privately making moves on Quinn. The woman on Quinn's knee took Quinn's sudden erection as a compliment and gave him a big kiss, but Quinn kept his eyes fixed on Chad. When the four actors finally staggered out of the cantina, Quinn had ditched the petite woman and was having trouble finding where to insert the key into the lock of his car -- even thought it was an unlocked convertible with the top and windows down. Chad wandered over, asking if Quinn needed any help. Quinn informed him, "I'm fine." "You sure are," Chad whispered in Quinn's ear, discreetly sliding his palm across Quinn's crotch. Quinn turned instinctively to kiss him, but Chad pulled back. "Not here. Come with me, I've got a beach house." Chad yelled to Enrico and Terry, "Looks like the newbie's a lightweight. I'm gonna make sure he gets home. See you guys on Monday!" Quinn followed Chad to his car, which turned out to be a red Corvette. It took all of Quinn's remaining self-control not to ejaculate then and there. He climbed into the passenger seat and placed his hand lovingly on the stick shift. Chad shut his door, put his hand on top of Quinn's and planted a kiss on Quinn's lips. Quinn felt like his body was liquefying. As the Corvette roared away toward the coast, a faint buzz was emerging from the trunk of Quinn's convertible back in the parking lot. When Quinn had gone to pump some iron with the other guys at the show's full-service exercise room, Quinn had tossed his cell phone into his gym bag. Where it still sat. In Quinn's trunk. * * * Damon hung up, frustrated that Quinn wasn't calling him back. Maybe he'd "come to his senses" and gone back to Renee. Damon started to beat himself up for becoming so attached so quickly to Quinn, when Quinn obviously could have pretty much anyone he wanted...of any gender. But before he could sink into depression, Damon rallied his spirits. While draining the last of a bottle of white wine he had bought on the way home, a bottle he had hoped he would be sharing with Quinn, Damon was modeling for himself in the bathroom mirror, trying on various items of his new wardrobe. He wrapped his arms around his smooth body, pursed his lips and waggled his semi-hard cock which hung loose through his fly. "Suck my dick, Quinn Brooks," he shouted defiantly. He stuffed his phone and wallet into a kicky little man-purse, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door and into the night. Damon found a parking spot on the street a mere six blocks away from the club. He had gelled his blue hair so it jutted straight forward, hanging off his head like an extended cliff in a Road Runner cartoon. He wore a sheer short-sleeved shirt, Levi cut-offs so short that the bottom of the pockets were hanging out, and a pair of navy-blue Keds. If he was at all hesitant about his first solo excursion into gay bars since his big transformation, it wasn't evident in his purposeful stride and steel-eyed glare. Tonight, he was definitely on the prowl. After 45 minutes waiting in line, Damon was reconsidering the wisdom of a sheer shirt and shorts on a chilly September night. By the time he got in, he was sure his skin was now color-coordinated with his hair, but it felt good to finally be indoors and surrounded by hundreds of male bodies which were both hot and warm. His energy level was high, he was making flirty eye contact, he was taking the initiative to start unintelligible shouted conversations as the beat pounded relentlessly and the floor periodically filled with fog. On the surface, he was having a good time, but it wasn't the same without Quinn nearby. Damon headed to the bar for another glass of wine and pulled his phone from his bag. Still no messages. Even when Quinn used to blow off all of Damon's invitations to go out and do something, he had been unfailingly polite in promptly getting back to Damon. This wasn't like him. At least it wasn't like the old him. Damon shoved his phone back into his bag and pulled out a wallet to pay for his drink. He heard a husky voice behind him say, "I got this one, cutie." Damon turned around and discovered an enormous bear of a man looming behind him. His long dark hair in a ponytail, the man wore a leather vest, pants and boots, and heavy silver chains around his neck. His chunky arms and chest were heavily tattooed, but it was hard to make out any of them due to his heavy body hair. Damon was pretty sure that was a mermaid on the guy's forearm, but the hair made her look more like a werewolf. "You look cold, little buddy," the man said as he paid for Damon's drink and ordered a Miller Lite for himself. "Maybe you could warm me up," said Damon, leaning against the bar and sticking out his ass provocatively. Damon didn't think this guy was really his type. Then again, he was barely out of the closet. How could he be so sure what his type was? He clinked his wine glass with the man's beer can and smiled, wishing Quinn would return his calls. * * * The Corvette reached Chad's oceanside home astonishingly quickly, or maybe Quinn just hadn't been paying attention to the time or the traffic. Through the entire drive, his eyes had been fixed on Chad, his collar-length strawberry-blond curls, his slightly pug nose, his plump lips, the whisps of facial hair, the freckles on his suntanned skin, his toned biceps and triceps which flexed every time he turned the steering wheel, his strong hands wrapped in leather driving gloves. Quinn had never felt free to ogle another man blatantly like this and he was enjoying the sensation. Sure, he had been checking out Damon's body over the past couple of days, and he appreciated Damon's loyalty and friendship. Maybe he even loved the little guy. But Alexander would never let a prime cut of meat like Chad go undevoured. And could Quinn really give an authentic performance as the sexually omnivorous Alexander if the only gay sex he'd ever had was with one twink? Chad kept the lights low as they entered his cozy beach house. The sound of the waves, crashing then receding, provided a constant pulse that echoed through the building. As he followed Chad, he couldn't help but notice how many framed photos of Chad lined the walls and were propped on the furniture. No photos of Chad with anyone, just solo shots of him fishing or surfing, plus plenty of publicity headshots. Most of the living room had been made into a home gym, with windows offering an amazing view of the ocean to the west and floor-to-ceiling mirrors lining the south wall. "Want anything?", Chad asked from the kitchen. The refrigerator door was open, stocked with healthy foods and protein shakes on the lower shelves but an entire shelf of various beers at the top. Quinn also noticed that Chad had casually shed all of his clothes on the way to the kitchen, and the refrigerator light was now illuminating Chad's impressive musculature and outlining the shape of his substantial cock. Quinn stripped off his shirt and strode confidently into the kitchen, tilting Chad's head back and wrapping his lips around Chad's. Chad loosened Quinn's belt and tried to nudge Quinn's pants down, but Quinn's muscles had grown again today and the pants would not slip easily around Quinn's now massive glutes. Quinn grabbed one side of his open fly in each hand, pulling apart and shredding the fabric enough that he could step out of his pants. Chad tried to say something, but Quinn's tongue in his mouth made him unintelligible. He pulled back and breathlessly instructed Quinn, "The bench, the bench," pointing across the room to the home gym. The two impressive physical specimens made their way across the living room without ever letting each other go. Quinn sat down on an exercise bench and lowered Chad's ass onto his now erect penis. Quinn was rock-hard and was really getting off on Chad's body. Chad was also getting off on Chad's body. Chad moaned with pleasure as he gazed at his ecstatic expression in the mirror. He reached up and grabbed the lat pulldown bar on the exercise machine, both to steady himself and to study how beautifully the refrigerator light outlined his exquisite deltoids and biceps. He pulled down the bar to give himself a little extra pump to admire. After Quinn came the first time, they switched over to the inclined press bench. After that, the sofa. Then, the carpet. Eventually, the beach. Occasionally, Quinn would try to ask a question, but Chad shushed him quickly each time, not wanting to be distracted from his own sensations. By the time the sun rose, Quinn felt he knew every inch of Chad's body and barely anything about Chad's brain. Inside his own brain, Quinn could hear Alexander asking, "Isn't that enough?" * * * Before he even opened his eyes, Damon knew something was wrong. The sounds around him were unfamiliar, for one thing. The din of freeway traffic was so deafening that he felt like he must be lying on an exit ramp. The mattress beneath him was so lumpy and uncomfortable, he thought it must be stuffed with bowling balls, and he could feel an errant spring poking through the fitted sheet and scratching against his stomach. His asshole felt raw, his stomach queasy, his mouth parched. As his tongue explored his mouth, it detected notes of alcohol, tobacco and rubber. His whole head felt funny, beyond a typical hangover. He felt drained of energy and lacking in confidence. In that respect, Damon felt just like...old Damon. He finally risked opening his eyes, which weren't ready for the blast of sunlight shining freely through the room's nearly transparent curtains. Damon was in a shabby motel room, with unexplainable splotches staining the stucco ceiling, decades of cigarette residue coating the wallpaper and god knows what mixture of bodily fluids clinging to the matted strands of green shag carpeting. He was lying naked on a double bed with grimy sheets and several used condoms. Careful where he stepped, Damon stood up and peeked through the drapes. No wonder the traffic sounded so loud -- the freeway couldn't have been more than forty feet away. Damon walked gingerly to the bathroom, where soggy towels covered the floor. He leaned against the sink and checked himself in the mirror for any damage, but his face and body were still smooth and pale, except for the thin pink scratch mark across his tummy from the bedspring. He had major blue bedhead and had lost the stud from his left ear somewhere, but his cock ring was still in place. He couldn't put a finger on what was missing until he noticed his finger. His left ring finger. His ring was gone! He tried to remember who he might have been here with. He knew it wasn't Quinn, although he wished it had been. The last thing he could remember was drinking far too much wine at the club with...some big hairy guy. A big hairy guy who was paying a lot of attention to Damon, pawing his skinny arms and his perky butt. Could he possibly have come here with that guy? He sucked on something caught in his front teeth and pulled out a short, curly, black hair. Not exactly DNA proof, but that pretty well confirmed his suspicions. He wondered how long ago the guy had left, and whether he would be returning. As Damon looked around the room, he couldn't find his clothes. He checked under the bed. No clothes, but he saw a few other items there which were currently in the midst of decaying. Nothing in any of the dresser drawers except for a bible, from which someone at some point had torn out the entire Old Testament. The people who used this room probably didn't consult the Ten Commandments all that often anyway. No clothes in the bathroom, no clothes behind the TV, no clothes hanging on the lampshade. Damon even poked his head out the door, but saw no clothes outside. Shit, did the big guy ditch him here and take all of his clothes as well as his ring? Why would anyone do that? Unless... Damon suddenly got a sinking feeling. He hadn't noticed his man-purse anywhere in the room either. Where he kept his iPhone. And his keys. And his wallet. With his credit cards. And his driver's license. That showed his home address. Which the big guy could be ransacking at this very moment. Wrapping a soggy bath towel around his skinny waist. Damon ran to the motel office and spoke to the woman working behind two sheets of bulletproof glass. He shouted through the slot at the bottom of the window, "Were you working last night when I checked in?" The woman droned, "Yes, sir." She couldn't say she spent much time studying the faces of the motel's guests, but she was fairly confident that only one scrawny blue-haired white boy had registered last night. "Do you remember who was with me? Maybe a big hairy guy? Leather vest?" She shook her head. "I don't recall anyone with you, sir." Damon banged his head against the window, rattling the bulletproof glass. He leaned down again and called weakly through the gap, "Thank you for your help." The woman said, mechanically, "You have a nice day, sir." Damon's bare feet slapped against the cement as he made his way back to the room. When he tried the knob, he realized that the door had locked behind him. But there hadn't been a key inside the room anyway. Besides, he had no belongings left in there to retrieve. Tying a tighter knot in the towel around his waist, Damon took a seat at the side of the motel's drained pool, dangling his feet into the air at the deep end. Sure, he felt ripped off and dejected, but there was something more bothering him. Those feelings of pride, confidence and self-worth which had elevated his mood in the past few days were totally gone and he had reverted back to the same old meek, self-doubting Damon. He had felt so great dancing with Quinn on the pier. No, the good feeling came earlier, when they were at the French restaurant. No, it was definitely earlier than that. When they were fucking, Damon thought, starting to wonder if he could really have been that lucky to go to bed with Quinn Brooks. But, no, he was feeling positive about himself even before the fucking. Way back in the old lady's shop when Quinn bought him... ...the ring! * * * Quinn woke to something hard beneath him and something sticky on his face. As he felt around, he realized he was flat on his chest on Chad's redwood balcony, his naked buns baking in the mid-morning sun. He reached up to his forehead, where a Post-It note had been attached. Quinn peeled it off and tried to read Chad's nearly illegible printing. "OUT 4 A GUN BRITE BUCK"? With a little more study, Quinn deciphered it as "OUT 4 A RUN. B RITE BACK." Quinn stood up, giving the neighbors brunching on their deck next door a clear view of Quinn Junior. Quinn just smiled and waved. "Morning!" Quinn slid open the balcony door and stepped into Chad's living room. He couldn't resist checking out his reflection in the wall of mirrors. Damn, you just keep getting better, he thought with a wicked smile, grabbing his cock in one hand while he reached for a banana with the other. He peeled the banana and devoured it quickly, then scoured the kitchen for more food. His metabolism must be going nuts with his body's sudden growth, as he was famished. He whipped up a protein smoothie, and then another, before he felt even slightly satisfied. The idea of a run along the beach sounded nice. Maybe he would catch up to Chad. He searched the house for running gear that would fit him. He located some Speedo Jammer shorts that he could just barely squeeze into and hit the beach barefoot. He was still getting used to carrying so much extra muscle, but his endurance seemed to have increased along with it, and he found himself racing along faster than he had ever run in his life. He spotted another runner sprinting ahead of him, his lean muscles clearly visible. If it were possible, this guy might have negative body fat. Quinn shifted into overdrive to catch up with the guy, then eased back to stay even. The runner clearly felt challenged, so he kicked it up and pulled away, but Quinn wasn't going to let him get away. For the next mile, the lead seesawed until Quinn finally hit the wall and collapsed on the sand. The other runner laughed, victorious, then jogged back toward Quinn, still moving to avoid cramping up. "You move pretty fast for such a big guy," the runner told him. Quinn would have responded, but he was still panting too heavily. "You got that much endurance at everything?" Quinn stared at the runner's shock of red hair, his gaunt but handsome face, his fit body and the bulge under his fluorescent yellow running shorts. Five minutes later, Quinn was underneath a pier, leaning against a support column with his hands clutching the runner's shoulder muscles. The runner's red hair bobbed back and forth as he worked his tongue along Quinn's arching shaft. Quinn brushed a thumb gently along the runner's cheek. When did I become such a slut?, Quinn wondered, but at that moment, he shot his load, dislodging any deeper thoughts for the time being. * * * It's amazing what people throw away, if you just go looking for it. Damon knew he wasn't going to make it all the way back to West Hollywood barefoot and wearing nothing but a towel. His car hadn't been in the motel's parking lot, meaning either the hairy guy had stolen it or they had driven here in the hairy guy's vehicle, reducing Damon's current options to walking or hitchhiking. He checked in dumpsters and trash cans as he walked along and, one by one, found discarded bits of clothing which more or less fit him. He ignored the stains and the stench that coated the sparkly stretch pants and the One Direction t-shirt. He spotted several pairs of sneakers hanging from their laces across telephone lines, but couldn't figure out a way to retrieve them. Eventually, he located a bamboo sandal for his right foot and a zebra-striped Vans slip-on for the left. Frankly, he had worn sillier outfits in the past few days. By the time he reached Melrose Avenue, he must have walked ten miles. He desperately needed water, he was developing blisters on his right foot, and his pale skin was guaranteed to be lobster-colored and painful by tomorrow morning. But it was worth it. He had finally made it to the old lady's store. He could get an answer to why both he and Quinn had experienced such radical changes, and why Damon had suddenly lost his mojo this morning. He reached the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. He noticed a little sign on the inside of the door bearing the face of a clock, declaring "WE'LL BE BACK" with the hands set to 2pm. Damon slumped to the sidewalk, exhausted. Enough pedestrians took pity on this pathetic-looking guy and tossed him spare change that he was able to buy himself a bottle of water at a convenience store across the street. Walking out of the store, he saw the old lady unlocking the door. Seeing a disheveled crazy man bolting through traffic mid-block and heading straight toward her, the shopkeeper hurriedly got inside and slammed the door in his face. Damon screamed through the front window, "You gotta tell me what's going on! Look, remember me?" He pointed to his blue hair. She finally realized who it was. "Someone stole my ring. I need your help!" The storekeeper unlocked the door and let him inside, reeling from his pungent aroma. When he moved toward a rack of delicate vintage clothes, she said, "Please don't stand by those. I'd never get the stench out." He looked too weak to stand, so she led him to her stool behind the counter. Damon finished off his bottle of water and took a minute to catch his breath before speaking softly. "I need you to tell me about those rings you sold us. What do they actually do?" She composed her thoughts. "Well, to put it simply, they help you become the person you want to be. They free you of your inhibitions and let you explore your options." "So the ring didn't make me dye my hair and everything else? It just gave me the balls to do it?" "The ring may have given your balls a little...nudge. The color of the ring showed where you were on the scale from black being totally straight to bright blue being totally gay. Only you can say where on that scale you feel the most genuinely yourself." Damon thought back. Before he put on the ring, he was barely acknowledging his sexuality, let alone embracing it. After the ring, he felt like he could be wild and try anything, no matter how outrageous. Maybe he had gone a little overboard, probably overcompensating for years of self-repression, but somewhere in the turquoise range, Damon felt like he was in a comfort zone, living his life the way he had always wished he could. "So if I want to feel that way again, I guess I need to buy another ring?" The woman took Damon's hand and assured him, "If the ring taught you who the real you is, then just be the real you. You don't need a ring for that." Damon considered that. Maybe the ring had helped him realize that he did have the strength to be himself. "But what about the ring you sold my friend?" "He asked for something that would make him feel gay. Didn't it work?" "It worked great. But he wanted to ACT gay! For a role! On TV! He didn't want to BE gay in real life!" "Are you sure about that?" Damon still wasn't, entirely. Quinn definitely embraced his changes once they started happening, but Damon was never sure if that was just research for his character. "So once he takes off the ring, I guess he'll go back to acting the way he did before?" "Maybe. Unless he decides he likes his new self better." Damon shook his head. If he hadn't seen and experienced these changes personally, he would never have thought them possible. "You really should've explained all this up front." "Ah, but life is all about unexpected discoveries. Think of all the fun you would have missed." Damon looked down at the hodgepodge of stinky clothing he was wearing and didn't feel very fun right now. "How about the other stuff you sold us? Like that cock ring? Did that read my mind too and adjust my cock to the length I liked best?" "No, that just made your penis bigger," she said, matter-of-fact. Damon shoulders sagged. "Could I borrow your phone, please?" She pointed Damon to a rotary phone on the wall in the back room, then had to talk him through how to use it. He wanted to call Quinn and check up on him, but he had no clue what Quinn's number was or really what anyone's number was. They were all stored in memory on Damon's stolen iPhone. Instead, he got the number for a cab company that could take him the rest of the way home. He borrowed money from the shopkeeper to pay for the taxi. When he reached his apartment, all he wanted to do was walk inside and collapse on his futon. But he got a bad feeling when he saw the key stuck in the front door. Damon turned the knob, swung the door open and discovered that the big hairy guy had indeed come by and stolen most of his belongings, including the futon. All of Damon's new clothes were gone, leaving behind only the dullest or most unsightly relics from his past. He really would be starting from scratch, but at least he now had a sense of where he wanted to end up. He wasn't likely to be as flamboyant as he had gotten in the past few days, but he would never go back to being Mr. Camouflage. * * * After his blowjob under the pier, Quinn kept strolling toward Venice Beach. When he reached the outdoor weightlifting area known as Muscle Beach, he stopped to watch the bodybuilders working out for the enjoyment of the spectators passing by. Quinn's own muscles had grown huge enough that he could fit right in, and he found himself itching to get in there and lift. He felt a gigantic palm on his chest as he tried to enter and a towering muscleman asked Quinn if he was a member. Quinn explained that he was just passing by and didn't have any money on him. A short but powerfully built man nearby shouted, "Tramon, let him in. I'll pay his fee for the day." Tramon let Quinn onto the hallowed ground, and Quinn approached his benefactor. "Thanks, man. You didn't have to do that." "Call me curious. I wanted to see if all those muscles were just for show." He extended his hand, told Quinn his name was Dwayne, and offered to spot Quinn on the clean-and-jerk. Half an hour later, Quinn and Dwayne were back at Dwayne's condo, smoking pot and jerking each other off. After a while, Quinn asked to borrow some clothes from Dwayne, then continued on his walking tour of the coast. He found himself locking eyes with every cute guy he walked past. Most of them looked away in disgust and embraced their girlfriends as proof of their lack of interest, but he did end up making out with three of them (two as a couple) before the sun went down. His needs were growing insatiable. He fell asleep on a bench and spent most of Sunday wandering up and down the beach, trying to remember where Chad lived. Eventually it occurred to him to call the office of the soap opera and ask if they could give him the address. When he finally convinced the operator that he was really a cast member on the show who had just started on Friday, he was patched through to a frantic production assistant, who immediately connected him to Betsy. "Where have you been? We've been trying to track you down all weekend!" "I dunno," said Quinn, "just kickin' back." "Everyone was so excited after meeting you that we've decided to introduce your character sooner, in the episode we shoot tomorrow. I've already emailed you the script pages." "Actually, I'm not at home and don't have access to a computer right now. Is there any way I can get a hard copy?" "Of course. Where are you?" Quinn looked around for a landmark. "I'm by the ocean." "Could you narrow that down a bit? At least tell me it's the Pacific." Quinn walked to the nearest streetcorner and gave her an address. A production assistant arrived within half an hour, and he asked the PA to drive him to the Mexican restaurant where his car was still parked. He went inside and ate a few burritos while he studied his script, then sat in the convertible for a few more hours, reading and rereading his lines. By the time he arrived at the studio in the morning, Quinn was locked in the zone, thinking like Alexander, being Alexander. Betsy was relieved to see Quinn and led him toward his dressing room, where she proudly pointed out the star bearing the name "Quinn Brooks". "What do you think?", she asked. Quinn seemed ambivalent, which surprised her. "You look unhappy. It's usually a pretty big moment when an actor gets his own dressing room for the first time." "No, it's great," Quinn said in a tone that conveyed it wasn't great. "Is there any way you could put Alexander's name on the door instead? It might help me to stay in character." "Maybe you won't want to stay in character. Alexander is kind of a dick." Betsy laughed lightheartedly, but Quinn took it personally. "I don't know. I think he's got a lot of admirable qualities. He's a bit all over the place in the script, but I have some notes on how we can make him more consistent." Betsy smiled stiffly. Was Quinn unaware that she was not only his boss but also the person who had written that "all over the place" script? "I look forward to that," she lied, and led him to wardrobe. Quinn took off his shirt and the male costumer gasped as he saw how much bigger Quinn had become over the weekend. As Quinn tried on his first outfit, he couldn't even get his arms through the sleeves. The female costumer sighed and informed Betsy it was going to take them a while to alter Quinn's wardrobe. Betsy nodded, then placed a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "I know I said we wanted you buff, but maybe you should lay off the exercise for a bit. We wanted a hunk, not the Hulk." Betsy was called away, but the male costumer whispered to Quinn, "Can you tell me what you're taking? I've never seen results like this." Quinn looked indifferent, so the costumer returned his attention to measuring Quinn's inseam. Lionel, the director, walked past wardrobe and noticed Quinn. "Oh, there's our dear boy. Big first day, eh, Quinn?" Quinn glanced away from the mirror where he was admiring his physique to address Lionel. "I'd prefer if you would call me Alexander." Lionel chuckled until Quinn's expression convinced him the request was serious. "Oh, by all means, Alexander. We shall await you on the set. Verily." "I'll be there whenever these two are done," pointing toward the costumers. Lionel nodded and left. When he encountered Betsy on the soundstage, he informed her, "Mr. Daniel Day-Lewis would prefer that we call him Alexander for the duration." Betsy rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know. I'm trying to cut the kid a break. Maybe it's just first day jitters." The production was running an hour late by the time Quinn reached the floor, the costumers still making some last-minute alterations. Chad approached Quinn and asked quietly, "Where did you take off to the other day? I was worried sick about you all weekend." Quinn waved a hand at him dismissively. "Please, I'm trying to focus." Chad fumed, thinking several words which he would not be allowed to say on the show. Lionel began to block the first scene, but as soon as they reached the first line, Quinn -- ahem, ALEXANDER -- loudly voiced his concerns about some of the dialogue. "Does any of this seem far-fetched to the rest of you? I realize it is only a soap opera, but come on. Can we get the writers in here to punch this up a bit?" Lionel pulled Quinn aside and whispered, "I don't disagree that you might have some valid points. Unfortunately, we're already behind schedule, Quinn." "Alexander", said Quinn. "Yes. Quite." Betsy walked over, asking what the problem was. "The problem," said Quinn, "is the words and the fact that I have to say them." Betsy bristled, trying desperately to control her temper. "I'm afraid there's no time for rewrites right now, so if you can just deliver the lines as written, maybe we can talk about future scripts when we have a bit more time to think." "Yeah, but this is the first time that people are going to see me and they'll think that I'm the one who's bad because I'll be the one saying these shitty fucking lines." Betsy was seething. Although she was a foot shorter than Quinn, she brought all of her anger and passion to bear and told him in a low but firm whisper. "I am going to let you go home and rest, because you are clearly not in the right frame of mind to work today. And while you are there, I would like you to think long and hard about whether you want to stay there, or whether you would prefer to come back here and do your job. You can call my assistant when you've decided." She spun on her heel and exited the silent soundstage. Lionel nervously called for an early lunch. * * * Quinn drove home in a fury. If he encountered any red lights along the way, he certainly didn't notice or obey them. He screeched his convertible into its parking space and stormed into his apartment. He had blown it. He'd submerged so deeply into his character that sensible, fun-loving Quinn wasn't even on that soundstage today. Just Alexander the arrogant prick. Quinn looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and was sickened by what he saw. Everything about him seemed phony, like he was looking at someone he no longer recognized. He ripped off Alexander's shirt and pants and stuffed them in the garbage. He yanked the leather and silver cuffs off his wrists and flung them across the room. Immediately, he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. Exhausted, he flopped face first onto his futon, his arms hanging limply over the side. He sobbed into a pillow and breathed heavily as he found himself relaxing, unaware that his body was deflating like a popped Macy's parade balloon. The giant muscles that had exploded on his frame since last week gradually receded, their sculpted definition softening, his former leanness returning to his frame. When he reached the size he had been when this all began, the ring on his left hand was pulled downward by gravity and fell onto the floor. Quinn let out a deep exhale and fell asleep. Hours later, after the sun had set, he was awakened by a tapping on his door. He stretched his arms and shouted, "Who is it?" "Damon." Quinn smiled. He needed a friend right now. He walked to the door and opened it. Damon stood on the welcome mat with a look of concern. His hair was still blue, but without any gel and combed straight back, looking about as conservative as blue hair can look. His skin, by contrast, was sunburnt red. He still had a stud in his right earlobe, but wore no eye makeup. His skinny unadorned arms hung slack from the sleeves of a white v-neck t-shirt, tucked into tight black jeans. His nails still had blue polish, with his toes wriggling in flip-flops from the discount bin at CVS. The first thing Damon noticed about Quinn was that his old body was back and that the cuffs were off his wrists. He was happy to see that, since he never had any complaints with the way Quinn looked to begin with. He also saw that Quinn was no longer wearing the ring. "Hey," said Damon, optimistically. "Hey," said Quinn, exhaustedly. "Just hadn't seen you in a few days. Wanted to make sure you were okay." "That's nice. You're probably the only person in L.A. who gives a shit." "Oh, come on, there's..." Damon thought. "I'm sure there's lots of people. How are things going on the soap?" "I was a complete jackass today, so they sent me home." Quinn fell heavily onto his futon. "Sent you home? Did they fire you?" "Not exactly. They told me to think about if I wanted to come back." "And you're gonna tell them yes, right? You can't just blow off an opportunity like this." Damon risked sitting on the futon beside Quinn, but didn't make any physical contact. He had no idea how much of the past few days Quinn even remembered, or if he'd be embarrassed or ashamed about how intimate the two of them had gotten. "I don't know. I'm not sure I want to be that Alexander guy." "I know this isn't my specialty, but do you really have to BE him? Can't you just, like, ACT?" Quinn laughed for the first time all day. He reached up and slapped Damon on the shoulder, giving his body a friendly shake. "I can always count on you to put me in my place, Damie." Damie? Quinn had never called Damon that until he started wearing the ring. Quinn repositioned himself so he was kneeling on the futon. He put his arms around Damon's shoulders and kissed his neck. Damon got goosebumps, but knew that he had to tell Quinn everything he had heard from the shopkeeper about the magic ring. After hearing Damon's explanation, Quinn leaned back on his elbows and stared at the ceiling to process this new information. "So everything I did while I was wearing the ring was just me exploring my sexuality so I could learn what felt the most honest and real?" "Yeah, basically." "Kind of the way I figure out how to play a character. I keep doing the wrong things until I finally stumble into what feels right." "If that's how it works. You're the actor here." "Oh, I am? Does that mean I can be the one who wears the makeup again?" Damon turned with a smile. "I'm still wearing the fruit-punch lipstick." "Really?", Quinn asked. He leaned in and gave Damon a quick kiss on the lips. "Mmm. Still as good as I remembered." Damon didn't want to set himself up for getting hurt. He looked Quinn in the eyes and said, "All those feelings you've had over the last few days, you know they might just have been you trying to figure out how to be Alexander. They might have nothing to do with what the real you wants." "Yeah, but the real me is here right now, and he finally knows what he wants." "Seriously?" Quinn grinned. "That woman at the store was right. I've always been a little gay. I just refused to acknowledge it. But for the right guy, I think I can be a lot gay." He pushed Damon back onto the futon and kissed him. Damon yelped a bit as he pulled the v-neck over his head, as the fabric brushed against his sunburn. Quinn helped him wriggle out of his jeans, but they had only been making out for a couple of minutes when Quinn stopped. "Second thoughts?", Damon asked, his worst fears confirmed. "No, I just realized I've really got to act tomorrow. I need you to help me memorize my lines. But first, I'm taking you out to dinner. Just give me a minute to shower up." Quinn hopped to his feet, kissed the top of Damon's head and went into the bathroom. Damon's heart was skipping. He looked down from the edge of the futon and saw Quinn's ring lying on the floor. Damon picked up the little troublemaker and examined it. Hard to believe something so small could cause such huge changes. Damon clutched it in his hand, stood up and walked to the front door. Standing naked in the doorway, he hurled the ring as hard as he could, with no clue where it landed. He was just glad to get rid of it. As he walked back in, he noticed the leather-and-silver cuffs on the floor and pondered what to do with them. Quinn jumped out of the shower, wiped off the mirror and smiled, happy to see himself looking back again. He felt tremendously calm and, for the first time in his life, certain about himself. "Q?", Damon called from the living room, a hint of worry in his voice. "What, D?", asked Quinn as he swung open the door. Damon stood in the middle of the living room, wearing the cuffs on his wrists. In the brief time since he had tried them on, the cuffs had already enlarged the skinny young man's muscles so he resembled a competitive diver. His arms actually had distinct bulges, his pecs and abs had the beginnings of true definition, and his legs, already his best feature, gained significant size and tone. Damon smiled at Quinn and asked, "Can you help me pick out some clothes?"
  7. CrisKane

    No Shirt, No Service

    Staring out the front window of the art gallery, Simon Blake noticed the two studs as soon as they emerged from the surf. It was hard not to notice them, with their nearly identical gym-rat physiques and their swimwear color-coordinated with their hair. The one with slicked-back black hair was perhaps an inch taller than his companion and wore square-cut black trunks, while his pal with abundant red curls sported a red Speedo. Both had now slipped on their flip-flops and were toweling themselves dry as they walked across the sand. When he had his job interview, Simon had found the location of this fine-art gallery peculiar. Although the beach certainly attracted its share of upscale visitors, Simon thought the shop would be far more successful if it were located slightly inland, among the other prestige boutiques which were frequented by the moneyed classes, rather than along the boardwalk with its t-shirt stores, hot-dog carts and Sno-Kone stands. Even so, Simon didn't think it was his place to question the gallery owner's business sense, and it certainly seemed unlikely that such second-guessing of his prospective boss's wisdom would be helpful in getting him hired. Once he started working at the gallery, Simon discovered just how right his instincts were. The place got almost no foot traffic. Tourists in tank tops and baggy shorts occasionally peeked through the windows or, on rare occasions, swung open the front door and glanced around before quickly realizing that this wasn't their kind of place. Simon could go hours or even days between serious customers. Frankly, Simon had come to appreciate the peace and solitude of the job. Inside the store's undisturbed cocoon, he could munch on his packed lunch of fruits and veggies and listen to Mozart all day, drowning out the moronic hip-hop which was as ubiquitous in the air outside as the salt in the ocean's breezes. As a former art history major, Simon was relieved that the less sophisticated passersby didn't bother coming inside, as it meant fewer times he would have to educate the yokels on why some of the artwork on the walls merited a five-figure price tag. Since Simon was paid a salary and didn't work on commission, he really didn't care that the gallery might go a week without a sale. How to keep the doors open on such little income was the owner's problem. If the owner hadn't found some sucker with no life like Simon to waste his days here, the place would likely have gone belly-up months ago. But having so few customers sure made the time drag. Simon spent most of his days gazing out the floor-to-ceiling front windows at the passing parade of humanity. It was like watching a never-ending episode of "Baywatch" on the world's largest hi-def TV screen. He once tried to estimate how many square feet of exposed skin he saw on the average day. Unfortunately, the most out-of-shape tourists often chose to conceal their bodies the least. A decent share of those walking past were attractive young women in bikinis, but their assets were wasted on Simon. The two buddies strolling off the beach were much more Simon's type...aesthetically, if not intellectually. Simon operated under the assumption that anyone who spent that much time perfecting their body was not spending it developing their mind. On the few times he had dared to try chatting up a particularly well-built hunk, they proved to be dumb and/or straight, seemingly dooming Simon to a life of being attracted only to men he didn't want and/or men he couldn't have. Simon just wanted to find one hot guy with whom he shared one crucial common interest -- that being an interest in getting Simon laid. If he was trying to figure out the reasons for his near-constant celibacy, a quick look in any mirror should have given Simon a hint. His work uniform of a blue dress shirt, khakis and brown shoes didn't differ much from his usual wardrobe. On the job, he was required to wear a necktie, but he seemed incapable of making the skinny end shorter than the fat end. He typically rolled the sleeves of his shirt above his elbows, exposed thin, bone-pale forearms which could scarcely be termed an asset. He completed his nerd/preppy look with a pair of gold-framed glasses and a haircut so tidy and unmoving, it resembled the plastic hair you might stick on a Mr. Potato-Head. As Simon's eyes lingered on the two studs' muscles shifting and bulging as they walked across the sand, he assumed they would eventually veer off to buy smoothies or something, but they continued on their course straight for the gallery's front door. When Simon finally realized that the one with the red curls was gripping the door handle, he rushed toward the entrance with the sad realization that he would need to turn them away. As the door swung open, Simon's nasal voice informed the men, "Sorry, guys. Can't let you in without shirts." He pointed to a small sign posted in the window, reading "All customers must wear proper attire." The gallery owner didn't want nearly-naked riff-raff wandering around the shop, undercutting his efforts to create a high-class environment, even if no other customers were present. And based on what little these two guys were wearing, Simon didn't think they could accurately be considered customers, as they clearly had no place in those swimsuits to carry any money...unless those were actually rolls of silver dollars those guys were packing down there. The black-haired one smiled winningly at Simon, creating swoon-worthy dimples in his smooth, tan cheeks. "How do you know we're not allergic to shirts? 'Cause then keeping us out would qualify as discrimination." "Nice try, but no," Simon replied. The red-haired dude chimed in, "Come on, buddy. We just want to look around." "Sorry," Simon shrugged. "Store policy. If it was up to me..." Mr. Red-hair locked his bright green eyes on Simon's undistinguished brown eyes. "But it IS up to you, isn't it?" Simon felt a strange wave of serenity pass through his body, as his anxiety about letting these men into his store vanished. What harm could it do? He certainly wouldn't mind watching these two strut around the gallery for a while, and the odds were highly unlikely that his boss would choose this precise time to arrive for one of his rare visits. Simon whispered conspiratorially. "Okay. But if my boss shows up, you'll have to run out the back door fast." The black-haired guy nudged his companion's shoulder. "Hear that, Red? We might be getting some back-door action." Red shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You are so mature, Evan. Sooo mature." The young men eased their way past Simon, whose head involuntarily swiveled to follow them. Until now, he had only seen them from the front, but their rear views were equally impressive, with broad lats, ripe glutes and elegantly sculpted calves. Simon realized they were easily the two finest works of art currently in the gallery. His thin voice broke a little as he spoke. "Wha-A-at are you fellows looking for today?" Red shrugged his bulging, freckle-spotted shoulders. "Not sure. But I usually know what I want when I see it." He glanced back at Simon inscrutably. Suddenly, Simon's thoughts were scattered. Ever since these two entered, he felt dazed, as if they had cast a spell over him. "Get back in the game, Blake," Simon thought to himself. "These guys are messing with your head." Red strode over and placed his large hands upon Simon's anemic shoulders, crouched slightly to look straight into Simon's eyes and spoke in a relaxed tone. "Are we making you uncomfortable?" Simon felt another soothing rush of energy, even stronger than the first one. He felt like he could tell Red anything, and that Red could sense things about him without anything being said. It was like that thing...what was that thing his old nerdy friends used to talk about? The Jedi Mind Meld? Yeah, like that, but very pleasant. "No, I feel very comfortable," said Simon, a rare smile coming to his thin lips. "That's good," cooed Red. "What's your name?" "Simon Blake," he said without hesitation. Evan, who was leaning against the wall behind Red and watching with fascination, chimed in. "Blake. That might be a hot name for him." Red shushed Evan without breaking his eye contact with Simon. "I want to help you, Simon Blake. When I was way out on the beach, even when I was in the water, I could feel that there was a troubled soul nearby. That sensation only got stronger the closer I got to you, and right now it's overwhelming." Simon looked confused. "What do you mean, troubled? I'm fine." "Are you? Are you really?", Red asked as his fingers began to massage Simon's shoulders. "Because I feel a lot of tension in you. A lot of unhappiness. Are you unhappy?" Simon hesitated, but had to be honest. He nodded solemnly. Simply acknowledging his unhappiness seemed to lift a weight from his shoulders, although Red's caressing fingertips may have had something to do with it too. "You may not believe it, but I have a gift, Simon Blake. I'm able to make people happy. Happier than they have ever felt. Would you like to feel happy?" From his growing stupor, Simon wondered curiously. "What do you mean, exactly? You want to fuck me?" Evan slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a guffaw. Red's tone and demeanor remained unflapped as his lip curled slightly. "Possibly later. But you're skipping ahead a few steps." Another relaxing surge spread through Simon's body. His eyes closed and his body began to tingle as he surrendered himself to the power radiating from Red's fingertips. Suddenly, he wobbled on his feet as if the floor had gone out from under him. "Was that an earthquake?" "No," Red reassured him, "although this will definitely shake up your world. You'll feel a few more jolts like that as things progress, but I'm sure you'll be happy with the end result." Simon leaned his head back, his Adam's apple jutting dramatically from his scrawny neck. "I'm still not sure what you mean." "As I said, it's a gift. I'm giving my gift to you. Not so long ago, I gave the same gift to my friend Evan here. Now, doesn't he look happy to you?" Simon lowered his head and peered over at the dark-haired muscleman standing behind Red with his powerful arms crossed. Inhibitions lowered to nonexistence, Simon purred, "He looks yummy." When Evan held back another laugh, Red muttered to him out the side of his mouth, "You're breaking his concentration. You're never going to learn how to do this yourself if you don't treat the process with dignity and respect." "Sorry, Red," whispered Evan, sincerely. "I just never been called 'yummy' before." Red focused his energy on Simon. "Just trust me, Simon Blake, and you'll be even yummier than Evan." That brought an elated smile to Simon's face, while Evan grumbled. "How come he gets to be yummier than me?" Red spoke curtly. "Maybe because he doesn't keep interrupting me." Evan backed off, realizing that pissing off someone with Red's powers was probably a foolish idea. Red moved his hands gently down Simon's bony arms. "I think we should go outside in the fresh air. Wouldn't that be nice?" Despite his contentment, a flicker of anxiety struck Simon. "But I gotta watch the store." "Evan can watch the store for you. I get the feeling that you don't get many customers." Simon's instinct was to oppose that idea, but his body was telling him everything would be fine. "Okay, let's go." As Red led Simon outside, he glanced back, tilting his head to indicate that Evan should take a position behind the counter. Evan shuffled his he-man body across the room like a petulant teenager. Stepping outside, Simon was assaulted by the sights, sounds and smells of the boardwalk that he usually made such a point to avoid. But now, Red had him in such a state of bliss that they commingled in a symphony that was delighting all of his senses. "There, isn't that better than being trapped in an air-conditioned box all day? Feeling the sun on your skin and the breeze in your hair?" "Mmmm. Yessss." Simon closed his eyes and raised his face to the sun. Red led Simon down a side street where pedestrians wouldn't notice them. "Okay, like I said, you'll probably feel a few tremors, but they're nothing to worry about. It's just the world adjusting to the new you." "The new me..." Simon's voice trickled off pleasantly. Red gathered his strength, then pressed both of his hands onto Simon's shoulders. A shudder rocked Simon violently, but the more his body shook, the less agitated his mind felt. Red had never lost his excitement for watching a transformation occur, partly because it still remained mysterious to him. He knew that it was guided in part by his supernatural gift and in part by the secret desires of the one being altered. He was always curious to see how people would reshape themselves when given the chance. A seismic wallop flowed through Red's body into Simon's and the changes began in earnest. Simon's glasses skittered down the bridge of his nose as his facial features rearranged themselves. His pinched and narrow nose broadened, his lips grew plumper and his eyebrows thickened. His neatly groomed hair began to sprout ragged offshoots, growing wild in mere seconds, like time-lapse photography. His pallor was also disappearing rapidly, the skin on his face and arms taking on a surfer's hue. Another spasm ricocheted through Red and into Simon, who could feel something churning under his skin, as if his body were simultaneously becoming softer and harder. Red watched approvingly as sizable lumps began to grow under Simon's slim-cut shirt and narrow khakis. The fabric of Simon's shirt was strained to its limit as his expanding shoulders and chest tugged in opposite directions against the buttons and buttonholes. Simon's rolled-up sleeves inched upward as his biceps gained heft. His neck thickened impressively, reducing the prominence of his Adam's apple and popping the top button from his shirt. As testosterone surged through him, Simon's breathing became labored, his pulse accelerated, and he felt a pleasant new heaviness in both his brain and his balls. His cock was hanging lower, as if it were growing in length without even getting hard. As the body alterations were winding down, Red braced for the final blast of energy which he knew would complete the process. This final surge was the whopper, as it would make over not only Simon's wardrobe but his very personality, reshaping not only who he is but, retroactively, who he had always been. Red found this last step the most intriguing and revealing psychologically, as the traits which the person had most disliked in himself were eradicated and replaced. "Hang on, here it comes," Red warned Simon, as if they were nearing the last and longest dip of a roller coaster. He gripped Simon's now meaty deltoids, and Simon clenched his fists with a dim awareness of how much more powerful they felt. This was just one of the many incredible sensations currently swamping his body. Red and Simon shook as one, then were flung apart as an invisible pulse radiated from them and spread outward, sending a shockwave rippling throughout existence as the Simon Blake who had existed until that moment vanished from history. Red had been knocked on his ass, his head smacking into the outer wall of the art gallery. He rubbed his hand through his red curls and felt a sizeable bump from the collision. Evan rushed toward him and knelt down, asking if Red was alright. "I told you to stay in the art gallery," Red said, perturbed. "Art gallery? Oh, you mean this place? It's out of business. Why, was that where he worked?" Red nodded and Evan felt a chill. He'd witnessed plenty of these transformations, but he still hadn't gotten used to witnessing the unexpected changes that always resulted from them. As Red's partner, he was the only other person on earth aware of how their actions had altered the world around them. Red looked around, wondering where Simon had gone. He noticed some movement in a brushy area and saw a tall figure rising from behind a grassy knoll. Evan's jaw dropped as the new Simon revealed himself, standing uncertainly and clutching his head. The nerdy salesperson who couldn't have been more than five-foot-seven was now easily six-two. His shirt had been blasted off his body in a flurry of individual strings, fully revealing the tanned and toned flesh of his smooth torso and jacked arm muscles. His necktie had shriveled and reformed itself into a leather necklace, his wristwatch morphed into a leather bracelet. His neatly pressed Dockers were now cut off raggedly at the knee, showing off his athletic and hairy legs as well as an inch of his baby-blue boxers. Even his choice in footwear had been altered in the reality-quake, with his sleek brown dress shoes swapped in favor of navy Converse All-Stars. When Simon lowered his hand to reveal his boyish refashioned face, all Evan could think was "yummy." Red and Evan walked over to help Simon climb over the grassy hump, but Simon leapt it gracefully with no assistance. "Yo guys, what's up?", he asked in a rich masculine timbre which sounded deeper to Red and Evan but perfectly normal to Simon. "Nothing much," Red replied. "How are you?" "Never better." Simon grinned goofily while he ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "I feel like grabbing a slice. Wanna come?" Red and Evan followed slightly behind as the new Simon loped casually toward the boardwalk, full of youth and vitality. Simon was delighted by the swirl of activity around him. Red noted a slight flicker of confusion on Simon's face as he passed the art gallery, its windows now whitewashed and bearing "For Lease" signs, but clearly nothing major registered in Simon's mind about his former workplace. Simon ducked into a pizza joint and asked the man behind the counter if it was okay for them to come in dressed like this. "Or undressed like this." The proprietor gestured to the rest of the establishment, where shirtless guys and bikini-clad girls predominated, so Simon relaxed. He ordered two slices of sausage and pepperoni and a beer. The guy behind the counter asked to see Simon's ID, which he pulled out of the wallet in the pocket of his cut-offs. The proprietor checked over the driver's license and handed it back, saying, "Thank you, Blake. Anything for your friends?" Red and Evan shook their heads. Evan said, "We don't have any money." "Fuck that. My treat. C'mon, whattaya want?" Evan ordered a slice with everything, while Red still passed. He did, however, ask if he could take a look at Simon's driver's license. The former Simon handed it over and Red smiled as he inspected it. Evan's casual suggestion that Blake would be a hot name had wormed its way into Simon Blake's subconscious. The transformed driver's license now bore the name Blake Simon, as well as a photo of the handsome stud now waiting for his order. The threesome took an outside table, where they had a good view of a beach volleyball game in progress. A stray ball flew toward them, rolling toward Blake who stopped it with his sneaker. He picked up the ball and bopped it back to the game effortlessly, with an athleticism that seemed inborn. As he sat back down and took a swig of beer, he heard a song by Kanye West begin on the pizza parlor's sound system. He shouted behind the counter, "Whoooo! Turn it up, yo!" He chewed in rhythm and bobbed his head frenetically. Red and Evan just smiled and shook their heads. Seeing such changes never got old. Another volleyball whizzed past one of the players and bounced toward Blake, who nabbed it one-handed before it could slam into his face. A cute blond guy with a short but muscular body ran over apologetically. "I'm sorry about that, man. I suck. You wanna take my spot?" In some dim recess deep inside his mind, Blake knew he was having a strange day. But the way this kid was smiling at him, Blake knew it was a good kind of strange. He turned to Red and Evan and asked, "You mind if I...?" They both gestured for him to go ahead. Red said, "Enjoy your life. We'll check back with you soon." Blake hopped to his feet, palming the volleyball in his left hand while extending his right to the blond. "I'm Blake." "Chip," the blond grinned, trying to keep up with Blake's longer strides. "So what do you mean you suck? You look like you're in awesome shape, bro." "Gymnastics," Chip said proudly. "But volleyball, football, baseball, basketball...anything with balls, I suck." Chip winced, embarrassed at how that came out, but Blake, exuding cool, simply smiled and said, "I dunno, I kinda like the sound of that." Blake joined the game, amiably greeting the other players before putting his fierce new body into action. With Blake as their new weapon, his team quickly creamed the opposition. He was a natural, even if he hadn't come by that naturalness naturally. Red and Evan watched from their table, satisfied with the transformation. "Another successful day's work," proclaimed Red. "Now the world has one less tight-ass." "I thought you liked a tight ass," said Evan, smirking. "Only yours, Evan. Only yours," Red said as he let his body relax. He tried to zone out the distractions of the boardwalk in hopes of honing in on someone else who could benefit from his gift.
  8. CrisKane

    A Few Minor Adjustments

    Hello. My name is Ryan and I am a geek. Honestly, I've tried to make myself look cooler with pierced ears, tattoos, and bling, but I'm afraid all of that only emphasizes how desperately I'm trying not to look like the short, skinny white boy I am. In high school, I did have a few girls who liked me and told me I was cute, but it's not like they were ever gonna date me. No, they wanted to date the jocks, then call me on the phone afterwards and dish, weeping about what a jerk the jock had been. To them, I was the "gay best friend" that every romantic comedy and sitcom told them they needed as an accessory. Never mind that I wasn't actually gay. I suppose I couldn't blame them for making the assumption. It's not like I was doing anything that would prove them wrong. Like, say, having sex with a girl. I'm only five-seven and I've always had, like, zero muscle-mass. My folks knew how much it bugged me to be so puny, so Dad bought me a set of weights, but sweating and straining just to curl a fifteen-pound dumbbell was not my idea of a fun time. Besides, all that exertion never seemed to add an ounce to my lanky-ass body. The weights sat in a corner of my bedroom, growing cobwebbier by the day. I started college with the naive hope that it would be a less superficial environment than goddamn high school and people would put more value on intelligence than appearance. As my parents were wishing me goodbye, Mom couldn't stop crying and calling me "my baby", right there in my dorm room, right in front of my dick of a roommate, who was barely stifling his laughter. I just knew he would be mocking me and calling me "Baby" from then on. Fortunately, Dad didn't cause that kind of embarrassing scene, but he did slip me a parting gift as we walked back to the car. It was a new digital camera that they were working on at the tech company where he works. "It's a prototype, kid, so be extremely careful with it. Don't leave it lying around and, for god's sake, don't let anybody else use it." I assured him I wouldn't, and he smiled back, "I know you won't, son. Hey, snap a selfie once in a while and send it to me, so your sad old parents can see how you're adjusting to your new life." I got a lump in the pit of my gut. I thought I would be happy to finally be off on my own, but I think it was just as hard for me to watch my folks drive away as it was for them to leave me behind. Dad rolled down the window as he drove past and said, seemingly as an afterthought, "There's some pretty sweet software on that camera. You should fiddle around with it." Then he winked. My dad was a brilliant scientist, but he could be kind of a doofus. (Like father, like son, right?) I had never seen him fuckin' wink in my life. Glad my roommate wasn't around to see that. As the car disappeared in the distance, I heard my roommate yelling at me. "Hey, Baby, we're gonna go eat at the commons. You wanna come with us, Baby?" I looked over and saw him give me an exaggerated wink. He was surrounded by a group of similar bros, all testosterone and stupidity in their muscle shirts and backwards baseball caps. The other dudes followed my roommate's lead, cracking up and calling me "Baby" without even knowing why. What a barrel full of douchebags. I already hated college. The actual school part was fine, but all the social skills I never learned in high school might have come in handy here. By the first Saturday night, while everyone else in the dorm was out getting shit-faced, laid or both, I was sitting in my room, alone and depressed. On my desk, I noticed the camera Dad had given me and decided I ought to let the 'rents see how their son was coping...or wasn't. I stood in front of the mirror in my small-size t-shirt and my skinny jeans and attempted to smile, but a smile would have been false advertising. Better to show how I was actually feeling. With a frown on my lips and sadness in my eyes, I snapped the shutter and the photo filled the digital screen on the back of the camera. Christ, I looked about twelve. No wonder I didn't fit in here. I touched the screen with my thumb, intending to delete this grim photo, when a menu of options popped onto the screen. Great, just what I needed, fuckin' Instagram. The only thing that could make me look more pathetic would be looking pathetic in sepia tones. But I noticed that the options extended beyond the usual filters, color, brightness, contrast and cropping. Like, for interest, "BACKGROUND". I could edit the background? When I clicked on that, a circle popped up onscreen with the word "DORM" at the top. Damn, photo recognition software is getting advanced if it can tell just from the picture that I'm in a dorm. I figured it must use GPS or something to figure that out. I grazed my thumb over the circle and, like the click-wheel on my dad's ancient iPod, it allowed me to cycle through other options. The first one I stopped on was "CHURCH". Amazingly, the software immediately replaced the postered walls behind me in the photo with a massive stained-glass window. I had never seen any design software that could so swiftly and seamlessly alter an element of a photo like that. It would have taken me ten minutes of clipping and erasing in Photoshop to accomplish what the camera had done in an instant. As I scrolled through other options, there was my sorry ass standing in a restaurant, on a beach, on a boat, in front of the Eiffel Tower. When I landed on "LOCKER ROOM" -- just a blue-green wall and some kind of door -- I must have accidentally clicked the "ACCEPT" button in the middle of the circle, because an hourglass appeared and animated sand fell through it as the background rendered in high resolution. From out of nowhere, I started to feel very claustrophobic. The air around me seemed to be thickening, like an invisible layer of warm Jell-O wrapping itself around my body. I couldn't move as this sensation enveloped me. And then, BOOM, it was over. It felt like I had passed through a gooey membrane and come out clean on the other side. I dropped to my knees, gasping for air, happy to still be alive. A voice echoed from above me, "You okay, little dude?" I looked up and discovered I was no longer in my dorm room but in a locker room. I was sprawled on the hard tile floor, and a massively pumped weightlifter was looming over me. "I didn't even see you come in," he said, extending a hand, which I gratefully accepted. He practically dislocated my arm as he yanked me to my feet. I thanked him and he patted me on the back with his beefy palm, knocking the wind out of me again. As he walked out, I could hear the heavy clanging of weights in the next room. I stared in the mirror and saw the same old me with a new background. The turquoise walls perfectly matched the photo. I looked back at the camera, still clutched in my palm, and wondered what other astonishing alterations it could make. "CLOTHING" was the next option. The first click-wheel offered general categories ("SHIRT", "PANTS", etc.), which opened into sub-categories once you clicked them. When I chose "SHIRT", the display correctly identified that I was wearing a "T-SHIRT" in the photo. I then scrolled through the menu as my purple tee morphed onscreen into everything from an "ANGORA SWEATER" to a "ZEBRA-SKIN VEST". On the more revealing selections, the camera accurately recreated parts of my body, like my bony shoulders and my sunken chest, which you couldn't even see in the original photo. This whole experience was simultaneously creeping me out and making me hard. When I selected "TANK TOP", it allowed me to choose from a huge array of colors, patterns, and logos. A Gold's Gym shirt seemed the most incongruous on my weakling's body, so I went the ironic route and hit "ACCEPT". I braced myself for the Jell-O feeling again, but it didn't strangulate my whole body this time, just my torso. My chest and arms felt shrink-wrapped as my purple shirt shifted through the color spectrum through blue and green before stopping at yellow, and the arm and neck holes grew wider and wider until an authentic Gold's Gym tank was draped limply over my gaunt frame. Like a kid on Christmas morning, I searched frantically for what other unexpected gifts might be waiting inside the camera. "BODY TYPE" seemed too good to be true. As before, the dial had automatically set the baseline to correspond to my current state: in this case, "ECTOMORPH". One click to the left landed me on "ENDOMORPH" and I watched on the screen as my body ballooned to a level of obesity that looked comically implausible and dangerous for my health. I spun the dial in the other direction, which showed how I would look as a "MESOMORPH". I'll be honest, I nearly came in my pants when I saw my head on the body of a well-built jock, with solid pecs that seemed ready to burst the straps of my tank top and bulging shoulders and biceps that looked ready to burst through my skin. I could have happily chosen "ACCEPT" immediately, but was curious what other options were available. "BEAST" amped the muscle enlargement further to that of a competition weightlifter, while "BEHEMOTH" pushed the limits of plausibility past the biggest steroid abuser alive into the realm of comic-book superheroes. I knew I would be more than satisfied as a simple toned mesomorph, but I bumped myself just slightly into don't-fuckin'-fuck-with-me "BEAST" mode. My thumb pressed "ACCEPT" and I waited for the constricting feeling again, but this change went the opposite direction, as if my body was exploding from the inside. The cells under my skin were churning, multiplying, creating lumps of muscle on my weak arms and narrow chest, veins surging and surfacing with each heartbeat, inflating me into a slab of prime beef. My bones were aching, stretching, thickening, turning my fragile limbs into sturdy weapons. By the time the evolution stopped, I was closing in on six feet and over two hundred pounds. Adding some final touches, I swapped out my ripped Levi's for shiny workout pants and chose a simple baseball cap from the "HEADWEAR" menu. I couldn't resist turning it backwards. Since I already looked like such a bro now, I might as well commit all the fuckin' way. When in Bro-land, do as the Bro-men do. Satisfied with my makeover, I hit "SAVE" and slid the camera into the pocket of my shorts. I stepped out of the locker room and discovered I was in the weight facility used by the college's varsity athletes. I couldn't imagine a more alien environment, but as I checked my reflection against the other jocks around me, I now fit in perfectly. I walked straight toward the free weights to see just how much this body could do. I grabbed two sixty-pound dumbbells off the rack, lifting them as if they were nothing. The massive guy who had found me on the locker-room floor walked over to give me friendly tips on my form, giving no indication that he recognized me as the "little dude" from our earlier meeting. I wondered how long he had worked to become so ripped. I bet it was longer than the ten minutes it had taken me. I couldn't believe how cool it felt to be accepted by my fellow lifters, guys who would have looked at me with pity an hour ago. They didn't seem to get my geeky jokes, but I found that was easily fixed. I just opened up the camera, selected "IQ" and slid the dial down about twenty points. I immediately felt a whole lot more relaxed and shit. I figure when exam time comes, I'll just take another selfie and boost the old IQ back up again. Sure hope I remember to do that. I also couldn't stop staring at the other guys' rock-solid arms and wide backs and firm asses. I hoped no one noticed that I was getting a major chubby that was tenting my workout pants. I clicked open the camera to see what options it offered for "ORIENTATION" and discovered that the dial had already set itself to indicate that I was "BISEXUAL". Well, shit. Maybe those chicks back in high school were half-right after all. I'm always the last to know anything. Returning to my dorm room, I stripped off my shirt and admired my bitchin' new body in the mirror, exploring the crevices of my six pack with my fingertips. I was sure of at least one thing: my lame-ass roomie wouldn't be calling me "Baby" any more. Not unless he wanted to get his ass kicked. Or unless I wanted him to suck my dick. I decided to text the photo to Dad, who would undoubtedly be curious to see what his gizmo had accomplished. I messaged him: "Played around with the camera tonight. Thought you'd be impressed with how quickly I've adjusted. I think you're gonna sell a lot of these cameras. Thanx, Dad!!!" I followed up with an afterthought: "Please send money for new clothes. xo" After I texted my dad the photo showing how much his camera had changed me, I zonked out pretty fast. Growing six inches and eighty pounds in one night will do that to a guy. Not sure whether it was the sound or the smell of the fart that woke me up, but the combination of the two was lethal. I rubbed my eyes and held my breath as I heard the low chuckling of my dumbshit roommate Cole. The fucker was plastered, and his idea of subtle humor was to wake up his roommate at 3am and fart in his face. "Hey, baby, can I borrow a diaper from you?", he said in a demented whisper, hardly able to contain his laughter. Even his dimwit buddies hanging in the doorway were telling him he was being immature and should leave me alone. I just reached up and gripped his wrist, then twisted his arm around his back, amazed by my strength. He sure wasn't expecting that from his wimpy roommate. "Ow, ow ow!," he yelped. He whispered to his pals by the door, "Fuck, I'm in the wrong room!" His loyal friends freaked out and ran away. "No, you're in the right place," I whispered. "You just fucked with the wrong guy." I climbed out of bed while maintaining hold of his arm. I flipped on the light over my bed and could see clearly on his face just how much pain he was in, so I let go. His arm fell slack at his side. He rubbed his shoulder and turned around. I got a real kick out of watching his eyes as they caught their first glimpse of my broad chest and my giant arms, then moved up and up until he saw me grinning down at him. I now had a good couple inches on him and, except for the part covered by my exercise pants, all of my new muscle was on prominent display. He stared stupefied at my face, which basically hadn't changed but looked a shitload more bad-ass on this body. If he hadn't been so drunk, his brain probably would have exploded at seeing the stud his "baby" roommate had become. Instead, he was just really, really confused. He poked his index finger into my firm pecs, like he was trying to make sure they were real. "Didn't you used to be a little pussy?", he asked. "Yeah, but the campus food plan is awesome. Lotsa protein," I said, continuing to mess with him. "This is only after one week. By next week, I won't fit through the door." Cole stood dazed in the middle of the room, his eyes glazed over like he had passed out standing up. Just like he had been doing to me, I touched his chest with a finger. He toppled right over and was snoring on the floor within a minute. I couldn't leave the idiot just lying there, so I lifted him up and carried him to his bed. He felt surprisingly light in my bulging arms. I scooted a trash can next to his bed, just in case he needed to hurl during the night. On my way back to bed, I noticed I had gotten some texts while I was asleep. Dad had written back after seeing the photo of my new body: "WHOA, buddy. I guess the camera DID work. You might want to scale it back and take things more gradually. Massive changes like that can be hard to adjust to." That was followed by: "Oh, and you won't need to buy new clothes. Just use the camera to adjust your old ones into whatever you like. Have fun, son, but don't go overboard. Call me if you need advice." Despite what Dad thought, I felt like I was handling the changes pretty well, especially since he gave me the thing with no instructions. He always liked to do that, bring home some project from work and ask his geeky little kid if he could figure out what it did. It was a fun father-son bonding type of thing. I'm pretty slick with computers and shit, so it was never much of a challenge, but he'd never given me anything nearly as amazing as this before. I carried the camera back to bed and stared at the picture of the new me. I didn't even realize at first that I was stroking my cock, queering off to my own picture. When I looked at my dick, it seemed really small in the grip of my new sinewy hand. Seemed like I ought to be able to do something to change that. I aimed the lens at my semi-hard cock and focused. I'd never taken a dick pic in my life. No one ever wanted to see my dick in the flesh, so who would want a picture of it? I clicked and the rear screen displayed my little friend. I brought up the menu and had to scroll pretty deep through the options before I reached the controls for "GENITALS". The options were "MALE", "FEMALE", "BOTH", "NEITHER" and "NON-HUMAN". Guess those scientists at Dad's company didn't want to leave out any potential customers. I stuck with "MALE" and discovered the options for "LENGTH - SOFT" and "LENGTH - HARD". I only bumped up the soft length a little, figuring I didn't want fitting my dick into a pair of underwear to become more of a challenge than solving a Rubik's Cube. I can solve a Rubik's Cube in under a minute, by the way. Not bragging, just the truth -- although these big new hands and this lowered intelligence might slow down my speed a little. Then again, considering how long I was making my "LENGTH - HARD", I didn't figure I'd be having too many more Saturday nights sitting alone with nothing to do but fondle my Rubik's Cube. I clicked "ACCEPT", then "SAVE", and flipped off the light. I was amazed how far my hand had to travel up and down the shaft of my cock as it grew to its new full length, and my fingertips didn't even meet my thumb on the other side when I gripped the fucker. Once I finally fired, I coated my chest and abs with more cum than I thought I had in me. Guess everything about me was bigger now. * * * In the morning, I woke up full of energy for the first time in my goddamn life. I actually felt like going for a run. On purpose. Not even because it would be good for my body, because obviously I could adjust this body however I wanted without a lick of exercise. No, I just wanted to go for a run because I thought it would be fun. I pulled on my clothes from the night before, then snapped a selfie in the full length mirror on the back of our door. I musta spent half an hour going through the menus to decide what shirt and shorts and sneakers I wanted the camera to give me. I knew I could get sucked into a video game so deep that ten hours would pass and I wouldn't even get up to take a leak, but I never thought I could be just as addicted to picking out clothes. Once I chose a white tank top and some red running shorts that looked snug around my package, I checked myself out in the mirror and decided I would look even hotter with curly blond hair. So there went another ten minutes, as I figured out the exact shade and length I wanted. I settled on a nice rich honey color and adjusted my cap so it would fit (backwards, naturally) over my new halo of curls. I looked righteous. I clicked "SAVE" and the changes were locked in. Cole snorted loudly, still lying on top of his rumpled bedspread, tongue hanging flaccid from his mouth and basically looking like shit. One hand was lazily scratching his belly underneath his beer-stained sleeveless tee and the other was stuffed down his cargo shorts. A naughty thought passed through my head. I snapped a quick photo of him, then tucked the camera in a pocket of my shorts and headed out for a nice long run. The campus was beautiful that morning, with just a taste of fall chill sneaking into the morning sunshine. I'd never noticed how many people exercised in the morning, maybe because I was usually still in bed at this time. When I looked down, my arms and legs were swinging so fast and powerfully that my shadow was basically just a dark smudge speeding across the sidewalk. As my big feet pounded the pavement in my new Air Jordans, I smiled at all the chicks and guys who were running or walking or riding bikes or doing yoga, and nearly everybody smiled back. And why wouldn't they? They weren't looking at geeky Ryan Bradford any more, with his pencil-thin arms and legs. They were checking out Ryan Bradford, campus stud, whose muscles barely fit in normal clothing. I didn't even feel like the same person any more. A dude like me oughta have a nickname. What would my drinking buddies call me, if I had drinking buddies? Or any buddies? How about Ry? "Hey, I'm Ry," I muttered to myself as I ran. I liked the sound of it. "Yo, this is Ry." I chuckled my deep new chuckle. It was a thrill to see how many girls were staring at me, but the looks I was getting from guys were kinda freaking me out. Before last night, I found it hard to believe that any girl would be charitable enough to go to bed with me, but I never even considered that a guy might want to do it. I just wrote off all my fantasies about big hunky jocks as envy, not lust. Now, I felt like I could walk into any room on campus and seduce anyone in it. Male, female, both, neither or non-human. (Just kidding about the non-human thing. Gross.) By the time I reached the lakeside pier, I must have run ten miles but I still wasn't breathing hard. My shirt was soaked with sweat, so I pulled it off, the sunlight glistening on my wet torso. I stretched out my legs on a bench. They seemed to go on forever, like they were longer than my whole body used to be. The lake and the trees looked so scenic, I pulled out my camera and snapped a picture. I checked the editing options, but wasn't given anything unusual. Guess Dad's company hadn't figured out how to make the camera turn a sunrise into a sunset, or a tree into a polar bear. Yet. I deleted the scenic photo, and the last photo I had taken showed up onscreen: Cole, sprawled in bed. I amused myself thinking about what modifications I would make to the jerk if I could. What was I thinking "if"? I could! Too bad the options wouldn't let me change him from a prick into a decent guy. I could turn him into a GQ model and he'd still think it was hilarious to fart in my face. Then again, if I changed his body enough, maybe it'd change his behavior too. I was definitely acting differently as Ry than I had as Ryan. Maybe Cole could stand to be a little less like Ry and a little more like Ryan. I brought up the "BODY TYPE" menu, where Cole was a obviously categorized as a "MESOMORPH". I nudged the wheel toward "ECTOMORPH" and watched his muscles wither away until he was practically skeletal, even worse than I had been. Not sure even Cole deserved that big a punishment. I slid the wheel back toward "MESOMORPH" and got so aroused as his muscles grew back that my boner started to strain my shorts. My finger wavered on the dial until I hit a sweet spot where he was just muscly enough to turn me on but still puny enough to have an inferiority complex. His clothes now looked baggy on him, and he looked a couple inches shorter. I clicked "ACCEPT" and chuckled, wondering what must be going through Cole's mind at that moment as the changes took place. "What's so funny?" It was a chick's voice. I looked around and saw a girl on the bench across the pier, looking right at me. She was just the kind of girl who always wanted to be my friend in high school. They weren't total space cadets, because they appreciated my less obvious qualities enough to hang out with me, but they were definitely more interested in the football team than the chess club. This one had her red hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore glasses that screamed "I listen to NPR", but her legs were tanned and toned enough that you knew she hadn't spent the entire summer in her attic writing poetry. She was trying not to look like it, but I could tell she was scoping me out. "Oh, just a picture of my roommate," I said, still surprised every time I heard my new voice. I knew I had knocked down my IQ last night, but I sounded dumber than I felt. "Dumbass passed out drunk last night, so I..." I realized I shouldn't explain any more. "Just did something funny to him is all." "Ah," she said, smiling mildly and going back to her reading, not interested in hearing some sophomoric "dude" story. I hated that I was still so terrible at conversation, no matter how I looked. I noticed that she was reading a book I had also read over the summer. I could've struck up a conversation about that, but I suddenly realized I couldn't remember what the book was about any more. I didn't want to look too vain in front of her, so I decided to wait until I got back to my room to take another selfie and bump my IQ back up. I stood up slowly, making sure the chick could get a real eyeful of my body as I stretched. I had no idea if I was stretching right, and based on the way she was smirking, I probably wasn't. I walked over and extended my sweaty hand. "Name's Ry. Hope to see you around." She declined the handshake, smiled back mildly and said, "Kay," which I assumed was her name but could've been her just saying "'kay" to get rid of me. Still, I'd made first contact. I jogged back to the dorm, feeling even more energized than before. I felt incredibly horned up from changing Cole's picture and talking to Kay and just the general friction of my shorts against my hard-on. I was ready to take a good long shower and a have a good long wank session when I got back, but when I got to the room, Cole was curled up in his bed, looking ready to shit his pants. His thin but still muscly arms were wrapped around his thin but still muscly legs, and his face had gotten skinnier too. He looked more like a sophomore in high school than a sophomore in college. With a shaky voice that sounded like it had barely escaped puberty, he said, "I think I caught the same thing that you did, only backwards. Look how little I am!" I played dumb, even dumber than I was feeling. "Holy shit!" I sat down on the bed beside him and furrowed my brow. "I wonder what's causing this." "I never heard of nothing like this. I tried looking it up on the Internet, but I didn't even know where to start looking. Maybe it's God's revenge for me having so much sex." I looked down at my body. "So is this my reward for never having any?" Cole actually laughed, and not in a mean way. I didn't know he could do anything that wasn't in a mean way. He looked so scared and vulnerable. "I wanna go see a doctor." "I'm sure there's no need for that," I said reassuringly. "I bet you'll be back to normal by tomorrow." He looked back at me, doubtful. "My buddy Trent dropped by, but all he did was laugh at how I looked and my squeaky-ass voice. You'll help me, won't you?" His big eyes were pleading. "Sure thing, Cole." He leaned over and wrapped his lithe arms around me. When I hugged back, I could feel my erection lengthening. If Cole held me any closer, he was sure to feel it too. "There, there," I said, trying to pull away from him, but he was clinging to me desperately, making my cock grow even longer. As I squirmed to avoid intimate contact, I noticed the camera sliding out of my pocket and landing on the bedspread, with the adjusted photo of Cole still lit up on the screen. If he saw that, I'd be fucked, and not in the good way. I snatched up the camera and held it behind his back. I rested my chin on his shoulder and patted his back. I could feel his teardrops mixing with the sweat from my run. Let me say up front that I'm not proud of what I did next. I could blame it on the massive changes my body had gone through, which Dad had said took time to get used to. I could blame it on not having as much brain power as usual. I could blame it on having more testosterone in my system than Lance Armstrong on a bender, reliving old times. I could blame it on feeling Cole's tight little body pressed so close against me. But the truth was, I just desperately needed to get off. So I looked at the photo of Cole and quickly found the menu for "ORIENTATION". Cole's initial setting was, not surprisingly, rock-solid "HETEROSEXUAL" Since my giant cock needed a blow job right fuckin' now, he had to be into it one-hundred percent, so I swung him all the way to "HOMOSEXUAL". I wasn't dicking around. I clicked "ACCEPT", promising to myself that I would switch him back to "HETERO" as soon as I was done. The change in Cole's behavior was subtle, definitely not as dramatic as if I had made the switch right in the middle of him farting in my face last night. He was already hugging me, but feeling Cole's soft lips kissing my neck was strange. Fantastic, but something I could never have imagined would happen in a million years. He leaned back, his eyes looking a bit mystified, as if they weren't yet as fully with the program as the rest of his body. Then he pushed me back on the bed and climbed out of his oversized shirt, revealing that he still had decent muscle tone and the hints of a six-pack. Instead of the burly bruiser he had been this morning, he now looked like a scrappy high-school wrestler, and he was looking down at me with pure lust. He yanked down on my shorts and we were both amazed to watch my cock rise to a rigid ninety-degree angle. I didn't have a ruler handy, but we were probably looking at ten inches. I had set my max for twelve, so amazingly I still had some room to grow. Cole looked at it hungrily and bent down, burying his head in my pubic hair, which must have been pretty rank after my long run. "Mmm," he moaned. "Oh, yeah, baby." For the first time, I didn't mind him calling me "baby". Cole licked his way up my shaft before working the head and as much of the shaft as possible between his lips. Maybe the camera had implanted some techniques, but he sure seemed to know what he was doing down there. He stuck one hand into his loose cargos and started to stroke himself. He worked my balls and shaft with his other palm while tending to my head orally. I grabbed the foot of his bed with my hands and braced my feet against the headboard as his attack became more intense. I was getting so big down there that I worried he couldn't handle it, but between his teeth, his lips and his tongue, he kept working me into a frenzy. I tried to keep my moaning down, but the guys in the rooms next to us must have heard the banging of the bed. They'd probably assume it was just Cole and some chick. A chick with a really deep moan. My arms and legs tightened as I braced myself for an orgasm that could be measured on the Richter Scale. Jizz blasted into Cole's mouth and down his throat until the little guy had to pull away or else he would choke to death. He leaned against his headboard as my cock continued to blast his face and chest with hot cream. The pumping gradually slowed until my limp-ish cock flopped onto my abs and we both sagged lifelessly on the bed. Cole looked shell-shocked. "Sorry, man. Something just came over me." "Yeah, that was me." I smiled, looking at the glistening puddles on his skin. He laughed, pushing me playfully with his bare foot, then wriggled out of his shorts, giving me a good look at his erect cock. It was damn impressive, especially on his compact new body. Proportionately, it was probably bigger than mine. He seemed perfectly happy stroking it himself, but I figured I owed the guy now, so I crawled my way toward him. I knew basically what I was supposed to do, although I'm sure my technique was amateurish even for a first-timer. Fortunately, Cole was gentle and helpful. He ran his hands through my curly hair and told me how hot it looked. Then he guided my head onto his cock and talked me through what he wanted each step of the way. He gushed sooner than I expected, sending most of his cum onto my chin and chest, but he looked very satisfied. As I lay down with my head beside his, I felt something hard beneath me and heard the faint click of the camera. Cole curled up next to me and traced his finger along the contours of my muscles and into my belly button. "That was so 'not me', man. But I dunno, for some reason, it felt so right. Did you like it? Were you satisfied?" "Yeah, Cole, I had a great time." It was downright cute how vulnerable and considerate Cole had become. "I know people 'experiment' with sex in college, but I never thought I would," he said. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it's just temporary. Maybe it'll blow over by tomorrow." "I'm sure that's it," I told him. With any luck, when I made him straight again, he'd retain some of this kinder attitude and wouldn't be such a giant ass any more. "So," he said in a sing-song voice, grinning at me, "you wanna fuck my ass?" He seemed very eager, but my conscience was weighing on me already for turning him temporarily gay. I didn't want to take any more advantage of him than I already had. It was almost like I'd slipped him a technological roofie. I told Cole I was going to take a shower. Between the cum and the sweat, I had never reeked so badly in my life. My running clothes stank nearly as bad. Once I was cleaned up, I knew I would have to conjure up some fresh clothes with the camera. I stood up, carefully palming the camera in my hand so Cole wouldn't see it, then slipping it into my underwear drawer. I took a long hot shower, kneading the shampoo into my plentiful curls and realizing I had no idea how to care for a hairdo like this. Then again, maybe once I altered the photo, my hair would just stay like that until I took another photo and changed it again. Sure would've helped if Dad had given me some helpful hints. I wasn't just tinkering with some ordinary product from his company like a virtual-reality system or a 3D printer. Well, actually, in a weird way, this was sort of the ultimate 3D printer. And I definitely felt like I was in a different reality. With a towel wrapped around my waist, and envious glances directed my way from my neighbors, I strutted back down the hall to my room. When I got there, Cole was gone. I hadn't seen him in the shower room or the bathroom. His oversized clothes were still lying on the bed and the floor where they had landed during our fuck session. Hard to imagine he was running around naked. As I looked in my own closet for something that even approximately fit me, I noticed that a few items were missing. Nothing special, just a small black tee, some skinny black jeans and purple high-tops, but they all would have easily fit Cole at his new size. Still in my towel, I ran back into the hall and looked for him. I asked around whether anyone had seen Cole. Nobody had. Nobody seemed to have any clue who I was either. I ran back into our room and looked out the window, to see whether Cole was wandering around outside the dorm, but I couldn't spot him. Fortunately, we had exchanged phone numbers on the first day, before I realized what a tool he was, so I grabbed my cell phone and called him. After the first ring, I noticed Cole's cargos inching slightly across the floor. Another ring, they moved again. I reached down and pulled his phone from the pocket of his discarded shorts. I figured I'd better undo the camera's effects before he got into a situation he didn't expect. I opened my underwear drawer and was relieved to still find the camera there. If he had discovered it and taken it with him, who knows what could have happened? I sat down on my bed naked and opened the revised photo of Cole. The word "SAVED" appeared at the bottom. I hadn't remembered saving the image...unless that was the click when I accidentally sat on the camera. I tried to re-open the photo and make further adjustments, but none of the menus would open. Come to think of it, I had never gone back to make additional changes after hitting "SAVE". Finally, a new message came on the display: "TAKE NEW PHOTO TO MAKE MORE CHANGES". Shit. So I would have to take another picture of Cole before I could change him back? That meant his horny little gay ass was wandering around out there, and it was all my fault. I tried to fit into some of my old clothes, but everything was far too tight. So, since Cole had borrowed some of my stuff, I figured I could wear some of his. God, he had terrible taste, though. The nicest shirts he had were either football jerseys or camouflage jackets. It took me a minute to remember that it really didn't matter what the clothes looked like to begin with. I could just change them to whatever I wanted. With that, I pulled on a sweatshirt, orange hunting pants, and muddy cowboy boots and took a picture of myself reflected in the mirror. I didn't have time to dawdle getting my wardrobe perfect, so I quickly converted my outfit into a short-sleeved blue button-down, gray wool trousers and black penny loafers. Instead of drying my long curly hair, I just shrank it into a blond buzz cut. And I had the presence of mind to bump my IQ back up. While I was at it, I even gave myself an extra twenty points. I was going to need all the brain power I could get my hands on. I clicked "SAVE". Now, I asked myself, where would Cole go if he were gay? I had no inkling where to start my search for my roommate Cole, having selfishly turned him from an abusive nincompoop into a frisky cocksucker just to satisfy my own sexual needs. Despite having boosted my intelligence substantially with the astonishing camera which my father had given me, I had little clue where my transformed roommate might have gone. Cole's cell phone, which I had retrieved from the pocket of the cargo shorts he left behind, began to vibrate. The screen displayed the name "SHILOH" with an accompanying photo of one of Cole's posse extending his middle finger. Those gentlemen were all class. I answered the call, stating, "Cole's phone." The person at the other end laughed. "Uh, yeah, hi, Cole's phone. Is Cole there?" "No. You're Shiloh, I take it?" "Yeah, this is Shy. Who the fuck are you, and why the fuck do you have Cole's phone?" With irritation, I replied, "I the fuck am...a friend of Cole's, and I the fuck have Cole's telephone because he left it behind." "Where'd he go? Trent said Cole looked mad sick and would probably be in bed all day. I was just checking to see if he's okay." "He's far from okay. Do you have any ideas about where he might have gone?" "Shit, I dunno. Let me call the other guys and see if any of them have heard from him. I'll give you a call back." "Thank you. I'll await your call." I hung up, wondering why I sounded so uptight. Was it because I had raised my IQ that that I was talking like I had a stick lodged up my rectum? "Rectum"? What was with my vocabulary suddenly? For the first time in my life I looked cool and sexy, yet I sounded like an insufferable pedant. It was time for another readjustment. I raised the miraculous camera to take another photo of myself in the full-length mirror. I was becoming ever more proficient at operating the variety of menus and submenus, which I used to nudge my IQ back down to its usual level. Fortunately, my standard level of intelligence was still well above average, just not obnoxiously so. I somewhat reluctantly bade farewell to my heightened intellect with a simple tap of my finger... ...and a rush of relief spread through my body. Being smarter had literally made my brain ache. It felt unnatural. I was glad to feel normal again. Well, at least as normal as I could in my new studly body. I took a seat, drumming my fingertips on my desktop and waiting for Shiloh to call back. I studied the camera, wondering how it operated. It looked like an ordinary digital camera, but its power to edit not just the photograph but the person in the photograph was phenomenal. It could definitely be misused in the wrong hands, and I wondered if "the wrong hands" included my own, seeing what I had done to Cole. Maybe that was why Dad had given me the camera without any instructions. Maybe he wanted to see what errors in judgment might be made even by someone who he trusted. If I couldn't handle the responsibility of using the camera, imagine the havoc that would be caused by someone with less impulse control, like Cole. The phone rang, displaying Shiloh's name again. I picked it up. "Shiloh. Any luck?" It was a relief to let words just fall from my lips again without my brain obsessing over proper sentence structure. "None of the guys have heard from him since Trent dropped by this morning. But I wouldn't worry too much about it. I'm sure he's fine." "I'm not so sure about that." "Why not? I mean, who are you anyway?" "I'm...just a worried friend. Just like you. Can you help me search for him?" "Sure, I guess, if you're that concerned." "Where should we meet?" Shiloh thought for a second. "How 'bout the pier? He might be there, doggin' on chicks." Given how he was behaving before he left, I doubted that Cole would be "doggin' on chicks", but it was as good a place as any to start. We described what we were wearing so we would recognize each other at the pier. Shiloh said he was wearing a white "wife-beater", blue jeans and a purple baseball cap. Turned backwards, undoubtedly. It was like Cole and his buddies had been issued a bro uniform when they enrolled. I hurried to the pier as fast as I could, although it had been much easier running there in athletic shoes that morning than in the penny loafers I was wearing now. It was late afternoon and the place was crawling with minimally-dressed students, soaking in what might be the last warm day before autumn took hold. I felt way overdressed and considered sneaking off somewhere to zap myself into something more comfortable, but the truth was I thought I looked damn good. Just because I now had massive guns didn't mean I had to be flashing them constantly. I saw plenty of guys in white tanks and jeans hanging around, but only one in a purple cap...backwards, as expected. I dimly recognized Shiloh as one of Cole's crew, but he was clearly the runt of the litter. Although he was obviously trying to fit in with his fellow dudes, his efforts were almost too blatant -- not unlike the ways I had tried to make my weedy little body look cooler with tattoos and jewelry. It was hardly surprising that I had almost totally overlooked Shiloh, compared to Cole and his bulkier, hulkier comrades. Shiloh was short and skinny with pale skin, sloping shoulders and wispy chest hair poking out above his tank top. He had a pugnacious but fairly average face, with caterpillar eyebrows, dark eyes, a broad nose, thin lips and a rounded chin covered with scruff. I walked over with a friendly smile and said, "Shiloh, right?" "Uh, yeah. The guys call me Shy," he said, sizing me up. Clearly my bulky body was not what he pictured from our phone conversation. "I'm...uh, my friends call me Ry." Yes, all of my vast circle of non-existent friends. I extended my hand and shook his, realizing too late how hard I was squeezing his thin fingers. "You spotted Cole yet?" "Nah, I just got here," he said. "Trent said Cole looked really skinny this morning." "That's right. He might look shorter than usual too." Shiloh stared at me skeptically. "What the fuck? How does a guy get shorter overnight?" I just shrugged, playing dumb. As we prowled the pier, I hung a few steps behind Shiloh and couldn't help but fixate on how tightly his jeans fit, with no wallet in his back pockets to interrupt the smooth curve of his butt. I wondered if Dad had known that his camera would make me so sex-obsessed. Was that part of what the beta test was designed to explore? It was starting to feel more like an alpha test. My attention shifted from Shiloh's ass to a familiar pair of tan legs on a familiar bench. Kay, the girl from that morning, was lying on the same bench, only barefoot now, still reading the new Malcolm Gladwell with his latest theories on how everything works. Shit, I could finally remember the book and what it was about! She and I could have had a genuine conversation about it, if only I weren't in the middle of searching for Cole. "Hey, it's Kay, right?", I said, looming over her. She peered up, shielding her eyes and slightly confused. "I'm Ry. We talked this morning." It wasn't much of a conversation, but we HAD talked. "Oh, right," she said as the light of recognition went on. "I see you're wearing clothes now. You got a haircut too!" "That's right. I did." I brushed my palm across the bristles of my buzz cut. "You like it?" "I kinda liked the curls," she said with an inscrutable smirk. I felt like I had disappointed her. "I can always grow them back." I had zeroed in on Kay so much, I'd almost forgotten Shiloh was beside me, but Shiloh seemed used to being overlooked. "Oh, this is Shiloh. We're looking for a friend of ours we thought might have come to the pier. Since you've been here all day, maybe you noticed him. About yea tall," I said, raising my hand up to my chin level. "Dark wavy hair. Black t-shirt. Black jeans. Purple sneakers." Kay shook her head. "Sorry, I've been reading. You're probably the only person I noticed all day. Your friend sounds cute, though. Hope you find him." She raised her eyebrows and smiled. I grinned back and thanked her. I could swear she was flirting, but then everyone I saw today seemed to be turning me on. I might have to go into the camera settings and pick either totally straight or totally gay, just so my libido could ignore half of the world. As Shiloh and I walked away, I realized I didn't know exactly what to talk about with one of Cole's buddies. Wasn't their conversation mostly about sports and chicks? "That chick was pretty cute, don't you think?", I offered. Shiloh didn't seem all that impressed. "I suppose. If you're into that type." We swung by the campus clinic to see if Cole had come by to get checked out, but the receptionist didn't remember anyone of his description. We didn't find Cole in any of his other usual hangouts either, and it seemed increasingly unlikely that we would simply run into him by wandering the sprawling campus randomly. My big-ass body was starving, so we stopped in a Mexican restaurant and strategized. As I watched Shiloh stuffing a burrito into his mouth, for some reason it reminded me of Cole giving me a blowjob this morning. I realized I had to level with Shiloh about how much his buddy had changed. "I think you should know. What happened to Cole, I don't think it just changed him physically." "What do you mean?", Shiloh asked, chomping down another bite. "I think he's behaving differently too. Last time I saw him, he was acting...pretty damn gay." Shiloh burst into a laugh that sprayed rice and beans into my face. He looked embarrassed, reaching over with a napkin to wipe me clean. "Sorry about that. I just find it hard to believe that Cole would be gay." "Maybe he's been in denial." Or maybe a magical camera turned him gay. Nah, too crazy. "Is there, like, a gay part of town where he might have gone?" "Over on Sixteenth Street. Some people call it Sixty-Nine Street." He added, "So I hear." "Maybe we should head over there and look around." Shiloh looked dubious. "You and me walking Sixty-Nine? People will think we're a couple." Would that be so terrible, even if he was a bit puny for my tastes? Funny how I'd suddenly developed standards and thought I could afford to be choosy. "Cole might not come with me," I said, "but he might listen to you. You're his friend." "Aren't you his friend too?" Let's see. Cole had abused me from the moment we became roommates. Then this morning I turned him into a little gay boy without his permission. "I'd say we're more like acquaintances." Shiloh was skeptical of my theory but agreed to continue the search. Judging from the rainbow flags and other obvious signs, it appeared that the core of 69 Street was barely a block long. Shiloh seemed nervous to be around the neighborhood, but I was enjoying the sensation of guys ogling me with no hesitation. I unbuttoned a couple extra buttons on my shirt to display my pumped pecs. Despite the aura of cool I was hoping to project, I was pretty embarrassed when we went into one sex-toy shop, and Cole was blushing so hard, his skin almost matched the purple of his cap. The place still had those coin-operated porno viewing booths that I had heard about -- I guess for the last remaining pervs on earth without internet access. I wasn't about to knock on the doors to find out if Cole was using one of them. On the off chance that he was, I decided I wouldn't be asking for my purple sneakers back. Not seeing Cole prowling the aisles, we got out of there fast. As we stepped outside, Shiloh literally collided with a pedestrian, sending them both reeling in opposite directions across the sidewalk. "Watch your step, honey," the pedestrian said with annoyance. I instantly recognized the voice from this morning. Shiloh stared with fascination at the other guy. "Cole? Is that really you?" Shiloh's confusion was justifiable. With its turned-up nose and pillowy lips, Cole's face had already been changed by the transformation, but Cole had been a busy boy refining his look since then. He was still wearing my purple shoes but at some point he had ditched my black tee and jeans and was now wearing a white fishnet tee that exposed his abs and low-slung lime-green shorts. He had obviously spent some time in a salon too, as his nails were now black and his hair sported a magenta streak that matched his eye shadow. I may have turned Cole gay, but I took no responsibility for his fashion sense. Cole rushed over and hugged Shiloh. "Shy, baby! I'm so happy to see you!" Shiloh patted Cole's back, his eyes registering amazement, while Cole showed now hesitation as he groped Shiloh's cute butt. When they parted, Cole's attention shifted to me. His eyes roved my body and a smirk crossed his lips. "Oooh, and I remember you, big boy." He slinked over to me and pressed his lips on mine. I couldn't resist kissing back, and the intensity of Cole's passion was possibly even greater than it had been earlier in the day. Our public display of affection was so public that I could hear guys on the street whistling or clapping or yelling "Get a room." When we parted, I noticed Shiloh's dumbstruck stare. I looked back, doing my best non-verbal "I told you so." "What are you boys doing in this neighborhood?", Cole asked. "We came to take you home," Shiloh said. "Why would I go home? I'm having a blast, honey. I've never felt so happy." "But this isn't you!", Shiloh insisted. "I know. It's better, baby. You should try it sometime." Cole winked at me before his eyes drifted to a large hairy biker dude in leather pants walking past. Cole's head pivoted to keep an eye on the big guy and, as he set off in pursuit, he called back, "See you later, boys." Shiloh watched as Cole chased after the brutish guy and struck up a conversation. Shiloh turned to me and said, "I think you better tell me what's really going on here...baby." I froze, knowing that I'd been found out. "You are Cole's little roommate Ryan, right, Ry? The one he teased so much and called 'Baby'?" I nodded. Shiloh studied me. "Unbelievable. You look...totally different. So whatever changed Cole is probably the same thing that changed you, right? What is it you're not telling me?" I was pretty sure I was going to need Shiloh on my side to wrangle Cole if I had any chance of converting him back, so I pulled Shiloh in between two buildings where we wouldn't be overheard. "What I'm gonna tell you will sound nuts, but it's true. Can I trust you to keep a secret?" Shiloh nodded. As I looked in his eyes, he seemed to have an inherent honesty and integrity, which made me wonder again why he ever hung out with Cole and his buds. Still, I felt I could trust him. Without divulging any more details than were absolutely necessary, I showed him the camera and described how it could be used to essentially Photoshop someone so that their body changed in real life. "How does it work?", he asked. "I have no fucking clue," I said with complete honesty. I figured a demonstration would be the best proof I could offer, so I pulled up the last photo I had taken of myself and showed him the various menus. Since I had never saved the photo, it was still editable, so I decided to alter my clothing, looking around to make sure no one was watching. I quickly chose a wardrobe that might be more appropriate for this neighborhood. Shiloh watched in amazement as, one by one, I "tried on" new clothes on the camera screen which then appeared on my actual body with a simple click of the "ACCEPT" button. Within a minute, I went from my conservative outfit to an orange sleeveless tee, a pair of ripped-knee jeans and rhinestone-studded All-Stars. While I was at it, I decided to give myself a new tattoo, opting for a Maori design for my chest and upper arm. I felt a concentrated barrage of needle pricks as the pattern emerged across my skin. I even selected "JEWELRY" and added seven silver hoops to the upper edge of my right ear, gritting my teeth as the pain of seven piercings was condensed simultaneously into the space of five seconds, then quickly fading away. When the transformation was complete, I extended my arms to my sides and said, "Ta-da!" Shiloh gaped in awe. "Satisfied? Now let's go get Cole and turn him back." As I turned back toward the sidewalk, I heard Shiloh behind me. "Do me." I looked back, knowing that I should resist, knowing that I didn't need this situation to get any more complicated than it already was. "Do me. Please?" I could see a familiar longing in his eyes, the same desperation to be noticed that I'd carried within me for so long. Silently apologizing to my dad, I walked back between the buildings and asked Cole to pose against the wall. I snapped a shot. I studied his photo, my mind racing at the possibilities. "So what do you want me to change?" "Anything. Everything. Just make me look cool. Like you." The idea of me being the epitome of cool was absurd, but I dove eagerly into the task of reshaping wanna-be bro Shiloh into a hottie. "This first one's gonna hurt, but you'll thank me." I slid him from "ECTOMORPH" to "MESOMORPH" to put some meat on his scrawny bones. As I hit "ACCEPT", the changes began. He seemed remarkably unperturbed by the pain I knew he must be experiencing, but he seemed utterly distracted by the awesome sight of his muscles and skeletal system growing at lightning speed. I frantically bumped up the size of his clothes before his muscles had a chance to burst through them. Since he had left the aesthetic choices to me, I tanned his pale skin and whisked away the thatch of hair on his chest. Shiloh would be a metrosexual if I had anything to do with it, and I actually had everything to do with it. Flexing his reshaped right arm while rubbing his left hand across his newly smooth pecs, Shiloh looked over at me and smiled, our eyes now at the same height. "More" was all he said. His eyes looked dark and impenetrable, so I adjusted them to a lighter shade, giving them a seductive sparkle. I knew the next thing that had to go was that stupid baseball cap, but rather than simply asking him to remove it, I chose "HEADGEAR", then "NONE". The best way to de-bro him was to take away his options. I clicked "ACCEPT" and the cap vanished from Shiloh's head, dematerializing until it revealed Shiloh's greasy mop of stringy brown hair. I decided he would look much better as a blond with highlighted streaks. "Ow, it's vibrating," Shiloh said, clutching at his hair as a month of growth was crammed into under a minute and his dark locks lightened as if he had spent all summer at the beach. My options seemed endless. I thinned his eyebrows and streamlined his nose. I pumped up his lips and gave him a more pointed, manly chin. Unlike Cole, who I had modified with revenge in mind, I realized I was reworking Shiloh with the secret goal of turning him into the hottest eye candy I could imagine. Now, as the final pieces shifted into place, the growing feeling in my heart -- and my jeans -- told me that I had succeeded. I had created my ideal man. Too bad he was straight. But, wait, how did I know he was? He acted straight, but... While Shiloh was occupied checking out his new body, pulling up his white tank to examine his new abs, I surreptitiously pulled up the "ORIENTATION" menu. Just as it had told me I was bisexual and Cole was initially straight, the camera had determined that Shiloh was most definitely "HOMOSEXUAL". How the hell could a machine figure that out, just by taking a picture, when I couldn't tell from spending time with the guy? It was one of about eight-million questions I would be asking my dad once this whole adventure was over. At the moment, I was just psyched to realize that I had a chance with this golden hottie. It'd be my cosmic bad luck if I had the power to whip up my dream man only to discover that he had no interest in me. "What do you think?" I gestured to his new body. "It's a miracle," he said, grasping at his throat when he heard the resonance his voice had gained in the transformation. "Just so you know, I didn't do anything to cause this, but the camera indicates that...you're gay?" He hesitated before nodding. "Do Cole and the other guys know?" He shook his head. "Those guys? You can imagine how they'd have reacted." "Then why did you hang out with them?" "I dunno. It was better than being alone. Maybe I hoped a little of their macho would rub off on me. Plus...I think I had a little crush on Cole." My jaw fell. "Do you still?" Shiloh smiled. "Not so much after what you did to him. I like my guys..." He looked me up and down. "...big." He smiled and walked back to the sidewalk. We entered a clothing store so Shiloh could inspect himself thoroughly in a mirror. "Oh my god," he said with a hushed voice. "That's really me?" As if still in disbelief, he raised his arm to flex his biceps and was amazed to see his reflection doing the same. He smiled into the mirror, revealing a set of perfect teeth that made me swoon. He turned to me with moist eyes, then wrapped me in his powerful arms and kissed me. Mmm, the camera had done a great job on his lips. God, I loved technology. Shiloh walked out of the store with supreme confidence, his arm wrapped around my waist. We looked up and down the street for Cole until Shiloh finally spotted him. "Cole just went into the Manhole!" "He fell down a manhole?" "No, the Manhole. The club over there. He was still with the big hairy guy." Shiloh pointed down the street. "Great. We'll wait outside until they throw him out and then grab him." "Why would they throw him out?" "Because he's not 21. In fact, right now he looks about fourteen." "The Manhole is eighteen-plus most nights. If you want to drink, you have to wear a wristband." "You sure seem to know a lot about this place," I said teasingly. Embarrassed, Shiloh said, "I thought about going there a lot last year, but I always chickened out before I got to the door." "You think you're ready now?" He grinned back, cocky as shit, and said, "The question is, is it ready for me?" As he marched down the street, I held myself back a few steps, pleased with how breathtakingly his new ass filled out his bigger jeans. I could follow that butt anywhere. When we reached the bouncer at the Manhole, I showed my ID, relieved that I hadn't changed my face much. He must have wondered how I grew so much from the height and weight listed on the driver's license, if he bothered to check that at all, but he waved me along. Shiloh, who now looked nothing like he had ten minutes ago, just said that he'd forgotten his ID. Before the bouncer could deny him entry, a firm voice emerged from inside the front door, saying, "You are NOT turning away a boy who looks that fine." The bouncer stepped aside and let Shiloh enter. The owner of that mystery voice was a slim young guy with either a very wide mohawk or a very severe sidewall. He asked for ten dollars each. "I guess that's the Manhole cover," I joked. From his expression, I was not the first person ever to make that joke. The muffled booms of bass speakers vibrated the walls as we headed to the dance floor. It was tremendously loud inside the club. Amid the swirling, colored lights were probably two hundred guys, some coupled up, others playing the field. I followed Shiloh, noticing how many guys were leering at him or copping casual feels and wondering if I had done too good a job. If I wanted to keep him for myself, I might have to go back in and ugly him up a little. Shiloh looked exhilarated and overwhelmed to be in the middle of the crowd. I no longer needed a high-tech gizmo to determine this boy's orientation. I could tell from the delighted expression on his face. I ran my palms across Shiloh's sturdy shoulder muscles and down his arms, my thumbs following the lines of his biceps veins and over his forearms. We began to move in sync with the music, and I was pleased to see him devoting his full attention to me, despite the massive attention he was getting from others. As I pressed myself against him, I could tell from the lump in his jeans that I wouldn't be needing to make any alterations down there. Our eyes met and the next move was obvious. I took his hand and led him into the men's room where we found an empty stall. We must have looked absurd, two total studs who were utterly clueless about what to do next. All I knew was I needed him and he looked like he wanted me. I unbuttoned my 501s and pulled out my foot-long cock, which Shiloh studied with amazement. He knelt down, ready to latch his lips around it, but I needed more than a blowjob this time. I spun him around and positioned his hands against the tile wall, then reached around to slide his skintight pants down his legs. Man, did he have a magnificent ass. As I gently probed my way inside, Shiloh started to moan. I rested my chin on his shoulder as my hips gyrated, pushing further into him while my left hand stroked his growing cock. Even in here, the din of the club nearly drowned out our voices, although I doubt anyone would complain if they heard what we were doing. I went faster and faster, pressing my face against his back, my nose buried between his shoulder blades as his tank became soaked with his sweat. He reached his sinewy arms behind his shoulders and pulled off the tank top. I licked his salty skin and felt euphoric as my cock spurted inside his tight ass. Shiloh pounded his mighty fist against the wall while screaming with pleasure as his cock surged in my hand. He joined in the stroking until he began to spurt onto the wall. When we had both settled down, Shiloh turned to kiss me and I got my first clear look at his sculpted chest and abs. I must say, we looked pretty damn good for a couple of wimps. Someone knocked urgently on the door of the stall. "How long you gonna be in there?" Not wanting to hold up someone in desperate need, we quickly pulled up our pants and opened the door. The guy rushed in, followed momentarily by a friend. Shiloh stuffed his tank into the back pocket of his jeans, returning to the dance floor topless. I took his hand and we resumed dancing. Somehow, amid the mob of faces and gyrating bodies, obscured by dry-ice fog and epilepsy-triggering strobes, I finally spotted Cole on the balcony, going into overtime playing tonsil-hockey with the big hairy guy. Shiloh and I squeezed through the crowd and worked our way up to the balcony. Shiloh tapped on the hairy man's shoulder. "I need to talk to my friend." The hairy guy must have had a hundred pounds on Shiloh. "Fuck off," he demanded, pushing a finger firmly into Shiloh's sculpted chest, but Shiloh stood firm. Shiloh turned to Cole and asked, "Cole, is this guy bothering you?" Cole was staring at Shiloh, puzzled. "Do I know you?" "It's me, Shiloh." Cole's eyes widened. "Shy?" He literally drooled at the sight of his buddy's new body. "That's right," Shiloh said. "And this time, we're not asking, we're telling. We're taking you home." Cole looked conflicted, but the large man blocked the path between Shiloh and Cole. "I think you're wrong, pal. I'M taking him home." Shiloh tried to push the big guy aside to grab Cole, but the hairy guy punched Shiloh hard in the face. Shiloh fell to the floor, clutching his nose. When I stepped forward, the hairy guy turned his attention to me. "You gonna be as stupid as your friend there?" Big as I was, I couldn't envision winning a fight with this guy, so I backed off. The hairy guy wrapped his huge mitt around Cole's fragile wrist and started dragging Cole toward the exit. Cole looked back at us with fear in his eyes. I knelt down to check on Shiloh. "You okay?" He pulled his hand away and discovered his palm covered with blood from his nose. But he was undeterred. "Can that camera make us big enough to beat that motherfucker?" We ran into the bathroom, the only place in the club well lit enough to take a decent photo of the two of us. Then we ran out the front door, catching a glimpse of Cole being dragged around the corner by his new "friend". Shiloh and I ran down the sidewalk as fast as we could, while I simultaneously attempted to navigate the menus on the camera and change us before we lost track of Cole. With each pounding step on the pavement, the camera was jostled in my hand. I knew we were going to need bulk if we had any shot at wresting Cole away from his captor, so I chose the "BODY TYPE" menu and slid the dial way past "MESOMORPH" into "BEAST" and then "BEHEMOTH" mode. Feeling it would give us our best chance, I chose "BEHEMOTH", then "ACCEPT". An incredible rush of power swept through my body. My muscles grew two, maybe three times their already impressive size. My powerful legs slammed so heavily against the sidewalk, I could swear the cement was cracking under my weight. I looked ahead of me and realized Shiloh was undergoing the same transformation. It hadn't occurred to me, when taking one photo that included both of us, that any changes I made to the photo would affect Shiloh and me identically. I quickly changed our pants to black bicycle shorts, so they would stretch as our bodies enlarged. With a massive change like this, the rest of our clothes were goners, shredding on the fly and leaving a trail of tattered fabric behind us. I lagged behind Shiloh and could see his back and shoulders widening to inhuman size and his blond hair streaming like a mane behind him. Up ahead, the hairy guy had heard and undoubtedly felt our approaching footsteps. He now had Cole slung over his shoulder and was running toward a battered pickup truck. He flung Cole hard into the bed of the truck, seemingly unconcerned for the safety of his prey but determined to keep him away from us. He climbed into the driver's seat and revved his engine. Shiloh reached the truck before I did, grabbed the driver's side door and tore it completely off its hinges. Shiloh yanked the big guy out of the truck and tossed him into the street. Shiloh was reaching for Cole's hand when I noticed something that had escaped Shiloh's attention. "He's got a gun!" The driver had dragged a shotgun out of the cab of the truck with him, which he was loading quickly. Shiloh turned back to him with fury, chasing him down the street. He took the hairy guy's shoulder in one mighty paw while snatching away the shotgun with the other. Shiloh smashed the gun over his enormous knee and flung the remains over a nearby chain-link fence. The skinny kid I had only met hours before was now an unstoppable fighting machine. Even with similar size, I was nowhere near as fearless as Shiloh. Shiloh held the squirming man in his grip, then raised his humongous fist overhead, prepared to strike. I feared that a single blow from Shiloh could kill the man, so I screamed, "Stop!" I ran up and instructed Shiloh to make the big hairy guy stand in the glare of the headlights so I could take his photo. Shiloh smiled, seeing what I was up to, and tossed the hairy guy into the road where the lights illuminated him. Within moments, I had reduced our opponent to a five-foot-three ectomorph with a smooth hairless body. He stared with panic at the whittled-down specimen he had suddenly become. "I'll get you motherfuckers," he squeaked, running to the passenger side of his truck, leaping his skinny body through the open window and climbing into the driver's seat. He squealed down the road, with Cole hanging on desperately as he was flung around the truck bed. Shiloh chased after the truck on foot, until the truck spun a U-turn mid-block and came racing directly toward him. I ran onto the sidewalk and braced myself, but the truck remained in pursuit of Shiloh, who narrowly escaped by ducking between two parked cars. The truck smashed into the cars, shattering its windshield. I could see Cole attempting to jump free but he fell back into the truck bed as the driver shifted into reverse and sped off. Shiloh gingerly lowered his bulk to the sidewalk beside me, his long blond hair falling in a sweat-drenched curtain past his eyes. We were both exhausted. In the middle of everything, we barely had a moment to appreciate just how radically our bodies had changed. We must be hovering near seven feet now and well over 400 pounds, most of it muscle. "When I said I liked guys who were big, I never meant this big," said Shiloh in a voice so deep, I could hear it rattling nearby windows. "Sorry, man," I said, my voice even deeper than his. "I didn't have time for subtlety." "What do you say we change back and let the police handle it from here?", Shiloh asked. "Sounds like a plan," I said. I pushed myself to my feet, then extended my brawny arm to help my fellow hulk stand. The commotion had naturally drawn crowds out of the clubs of 69 Street to see what was happening, and our huge musclebound bodies were naturally attracting a lot of attention. I suddenly had the realization that I was no longer holding the camera in my hand. "Shit, I don't have the camera!" "Did you drop it somewhere?", Shiloh asked. I shrugged my massive shoulders and stepped as gingerly as possible into the street. Shiloh joined me in my quest. "I sure hope that asshole didn't run over it with his truck," Shiloh said. "I would not want to be stuck like..." I heard a crunch and closed my eyes. When I opened them, Shiloh was looking scared. He lifted up a gigantic foot, revealing the crushed remains of the miracle camera embedded in the asphalt. In unison, we said, "Oh, fuck." Shiloh and I stood in the dimly lit street, our astounding bodies each seven feet tall and bursting with more muscle than I'd ever seen on a human being -- if that's even what we were any more. Our shoulders and biceps were bigger than beach balls and solid as steel. Our lats flared out so dramatically that neither of us could lower our arms fully to our sides. A street light behind us showed off our musculature in sharp relief and cast long brutish shadows along the pavement. I was glad I'd had the presence of mind to switch us into stretch pants when our bodies became so gargantuan, so at least we weren't naked. Guys had run outside the Manhole and the other gay establishments of 69 Street once people heard the sounds of our frenetic battle with the guy who had taken Cole away with him. Everyone was keeping their distance from the two silhouetted giants in the middle of the road, but every-goddamn-body had a camera on their cell phone and was taking pictures and videos of us like two sasquatches who had just landed in the gay-borhood. Ironically, Shiloh and I were the only ones who didn't have a camera, and we were the ones who really could have used one, since it was my magical camera that had gotten us into this mess. Too bad Shiloh had accidentally stepped on it, his enormous weight grinding it into irreparable bits. I was surprised that I had maintained my composure and most of my wits. Shiloh was more riled up, having been in the heat of the battle with Cole's abductor, smashing the guy's shotgun and tearing the driver's side door off his pick-up truck. Shiloh was still wired with adrenaline and ran angrily toward the crowd with a menacing roar that echoed off the buildings. Everyone scurried back in fear, and I clamped one of my meaty paws on Shiloh's traps, dragging him back toward me. I spoke as softly as I could, even though it felt like everything I said in this new body was being bellowed through a megaphone. "Chill, Hulk. You don't have to 'smash'." Shiloh, still glaring furiously at the mob armed with their smartphones, asked, "Well, what do you suggest we do?" "We maybe got a minute before the cops show. I say we run as fast as these big-ass legs will carry us." "Where to?" "Someplace we won't be noticed." "Oh, that oughta be easy to find", Shiloh snorted sarcastically and it came out like a lion's roar. That gave me an idea. "Follow me." I spun on my heel and began to run away from the crowd. I could hear from the pounding at my heels that Shiloh was right behind me and that some of the crowd were attempting to keep up. Fat chance of that. Despite my bulk, I felt just as agile as I had earlier in the day when I weighed half as much. I'd never felt so exhilarated as I bounded at ten feet per stride, my muscles like coiled springs. I tried to keep us in dimly lit areas, under railroad bridges, in industrial areas where no one was working at this time of night, but I'm sure that the pounding of our feet alone made our presence obvious to anyone within several blocks. Maybe one sprinting muscle beast could slip by unnoticed, but two would definitely catch your attention. One unlucky driver must have gotten the scare of his life as he turned down the street toward us. He slammed on his brakes as fast as he could, and I miraculously hurdled his car. Shiloh leapt over the car too, but his heel clipped the rear bumper, knocking it clean off. Shiloh paused to look back, but I yelled for him to keep going. The sooner we vanished, the less likely the driver was to know what hit him. I did take one short cut over a parked car where I left a giant foot-shaped dent in the hood of the trunk. If you parked anywhere in the neighborhood of Sixteenth Street that night, I sincerely apologize. When we finally reached our destination, we had to scale a fifteen-foot concrete wall with barbed wire at the top. Leaping to the top was simple with our new muscles, and the barbed wire left little more than surface scratches on our thick hides. After being such a little dweeb all my life, it was extraordinary to experience life as an almost purely physical being. I felt practically indestructible. We slid down the other side of the wall and landed in a scummy, stagnant water pool. We had become so animalistic in our behavior by that point that we felt refreshed, splashing ourselves and each other playfully, joyfully. We even cupped water in our hands to slurp it up and rehydrate after our marathon run. At that point, we both came to our senses and spat out the putrid stuff. Shiloh looked around. "What is this, a zoo?" I grunted affirmatively. "So we're in a cage with wild animals?" He scanned his surroundings with fear, moonlight catching in his eyeballs. "There are no animals. It closed down a couple years ago. My folks used to bring me here when I was little. Never thought I'd be on this side of the cage." I lay down on the cement where apes used to prowl, feeling my gigantic ribcage expanding and contracting as I caught my breath. Shiloh prowled our new habitat, on alert for anyone or anything approaching. He began to swing swiftly on a rusted old set of bars that had been installed for the apes to play on. Part of me was already making plans for what Shiloh and I could do with bodies like these. Obviously, we would be the center of attention wherever we went. We could probably go into football, pro wrestling, acting, modeling. I didn't think they'd let us into bodybuilding with the head start Dad's camera had provided. Then again, once Dad's camera went on the market, body building the old way would probably become obsolete. As would dieting. And plastic surgery. And shopping for clothes. And visiting the barber. This one little gadget might drive half the companies in America out of business. Dad and his colleagues were in line to become the richest people on earth, or the most hated, or most likely both. As I rested a hand on my thigh, I noticed something tiny and hard caught in my skintight pants. My cell phone! Even when I transformed our pants into running shorts, eliminating pockets, the phone in my front pocket had survived the change and was pressed firmly against my flesh. I gently pulled down the shorts and carefully extracted the phone, which now felt so tiny in my oversized palm that I was afraid I would crush it. If I'd had to dial individual digits with the bratwursts my fingers had become, I'd have been shit out of luck, but fortunately the person I needed was on speed dial. As the phone began to ring, I raised it to my ear. "Hey, big guy, what's shaking?" came the comforting voice of my dad on the other end of the line. "Why, what have you heard?" was my response, coming out in my laughably low new voice. "Holy cow, Ryan, is that you?" "Yeah, Dad. I need your help." Sternly, Dad asked, "Have you been using the camera some more?" "A little." I could probably lift a semi with my bare hands right then, but Dad's disappointed tone instantly transformed me mentally into an eight-year-old afraid to admit that he had knocked a baseball through the neighbor's window. "I warned you to take it easy with that thing. But don't worry, if you've pushed yourself too far, there's a quick fix that'll reset you right back to normal. You got the camera with you?" "Ummm...that's part of the problem. The camera got kinda...crushed." A long pause from Dad's end. "How 'kinda' crushed?" "Like oblivion crushed." Dad let out a world-record sigh. I waited for him to say something, anything. "You still there, Dad?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just trying to get a fix on your coordinates. Looks like you're at the old zoo, right?" "Right. How'd you know that?" "When the camera transformed you, it put radioactive tracers in your body. I'm seeing another big blip. Is someone else with you?" "Yeah, my friend, Shiloh." My delight at being able to tell my dad that I had made a friend at college was tempered by the knowledge of what I had turned that friend into. He was currently atop the monkey bars, pounding his chest like Tarzan and yowling at the moon. I shushed him, not wanting to draw any attention to our hideout. "Okay, hang on, buddy. I'll be right there," Dad said. "Thanks, Dad. Hurry." I could hear distant sirens and couldn't imagine that Dad could drive here before we'd be discovered by the cops. I was walking toward Shiloh to give him the good news that Dad was on his way when I saw a weird glow over the water pool. The air above the ground seemed to be thickening and pulsating, reminding me of my initial transformation when the camera sucked me through space to another location via some gelatinous portal. Sure enough, I saw the outlines of Dad's shape emerging inside the glow. As he stepped his way through the ethereal goo, he became aware that he had beamed in at ground level, while the ground beneath him was actually several feet lower. He plunged into the stagnant water of the apes' drinking hole. I rushed over to grab him as he scrambled out of the water, carefully holding his camera aloft so it would not get wet. I reached out and wrapped my fingers completely around his forearm. He seemed unprepared for just how monumental I had become. "Oh my, Ryan. What have you done to yourself?" "I just wanted to put on some muscle. Things got out of hand." "Nice understatement, son. I know how sensitive you are about your size. I thought you'd use the camera to give yourself a few minor adjustments so you'd fit in better with the other college kids. But this, son, this is not fitting in." "I know I screwed up, Dad, jeez. Why do you think I called you?" I must have been the whiniest gigantic muscleman in the history of gigantic musclemen. Dad dropped the lecturing tone. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I'm glad you called me." He noticed Shiloh, who was hanging on the monkey bars. "And you must be Shiloh. I'm Ryan's dad. Nice to meet you." Shiloh dropped down and ran toward us, slumping forward and practically running on all fours. Dad looked around the spooky old zoo. "Well, one thing in our favor. At least you came to a nice isolated place to experiment where no one could see you." The silence from Shiloh and me must have been pretty obvious, as were the sirens in the distance which were growing louder. Dad looked up at me wearily. "People saw you, didn't they?" Shiloh and I nodded like bad little boys. I had to tell Dad, "We're probably on YouTube by now." "Fuck!", Dad yelled. I think I'd only heard him drop the F-bomb twice before in my life and never with such well-deserved ferocity. "If my company learns that I gave my son an untested prototype and that he turned himself and his buddy into monsters..." "We are not monsters!", Shiloh shouted, his words bouncing off the concrete walls as he shook a cinder-block-sized fist at Dad. I ran behind Shiloh and grabbed his arms to keep him from attacking Dad. "Well, you won't be in a minute," Dad said, raising his camera. It looked slightly different from the one I'd been given, bulkier with extra modifications, like a newer model that had been jerry-rigged in the lab. Dad quickly took a flash photo of Shiloh and me and started to manipulate the menus. I hovered over his shoulder -- high above his shoulder -- and watched how masterfully he worked the controls. I thought I had been getting the hang of it, but Dad had clearly been fiddling with this device for months or maybe even years. "If you have a picture of two people, the command affects both of them," I told Dad, offering one of my hard-learned lessons as if he might not already been aware of it, even though he was probably the person who had designed it to work that way. "That's right, son, but there's an easy override for that. What I'm trying to do is trickier. I want to set you both back to the way you started, which would be MUCH easier if I was working from the camera that made the changes in the first place." Nice way to rub it in, Dad. I already apologized for that. "Do you have to change us back?", Shiloh asked. "I feel kinda awesome like this." He flexed an arm and admired his massive biceps pump. "You're caught up in the endorphin rush, but it'll fade soon. You've expanded your body parts to inhuman proportions, way beyond the size at which they were designed to function. Your heart, your lungs, your brain, they're all straining to support what you've become. If you stay like this, you'll be dead in two days." "Okay, you can change us back," Shiloh said, all menace and bravado immediately gone from his voice. "Ah, there it is!", Dad screamed. "I connected back to the lab. All your settings were stored back there every time you used the camera, so I can revert you to your original states. You better brace yourselves. It's going to be quite a shock to be yourselves again." Shiloh and I walked over to the monkey bars and gripped them tightly. Dad gave us no warning that the process was already in motion. It felt like I was being crushed by a black hole, becoming smaller and denser at such a speed that I worried it might keep going until I was reduced to nothingness. The metal bar in my hand seemed to be getting bigger when it was really my hands growing smaller around it. It was a relief when my extreme hyper-inflated muscles were gone, but I genuinely felt comfortable when I had reached the size of the miniature weightlifter of my initial transformation. I felt like yelling to Dad to stop the shrinkage right there, but I was going all the way back to my frail "baby" weight. I felt so distanced from that version of me after all that had occurred, it was hard to believe that I had only been Big Ry for the past twenty-four hours. When I could feel the process coming to an end, my hands slipped from the metal bars, my knees buckled and I fell to the concrete, whacking my head and discovering that pain was once again a factor in my life. I looked blearily across the way and saw Shiloh coming to grips with being ordinary again too. All the "improvements" which I had made to him were gone. Shiloh was no longer the blond sex god of my dreams. He was just a regular guy trying to look tougher than he was. We were each wearing the jeans that had worn before our first transformations, but the rest of our clothes were missing, since whatever they had been changed into by the camera was shredded when we grew to behemoths. Interestingly, Shiloh's backwards baseball cap had returned from the oblivion where I sent it, having been stored in memory back at the lab. My ears had been ringing throughout the shrinking process, but I could now distinctly hear the sirens closing in. In another minute, we would be discovered trespassing at the zoo and we'd have a lot of fast talking to do. Dad hustled over and gathered Shiloh and me close together, holding out his arm to snap a selfie of the three of us. As soon as the flash went off, we could hear voices outside the wall as cops noticed the burst of light. "I've never transported three people at once, but it SHOULD work," Dad informed us. "We would have overwhelmed the system's capacity if you were still the size of human tanks, but we shouldn't have much trouble with you kids." Shit, I was back to being a kid. I can't speak for Shiloh, but my heart was racing with fear that we were going to get caught. Dad seemed unworried and unhurried. He pulled up the "BACKGROUND" menu -- something I'd forgotten about since last night -- and input very specific latitude, longitude and elevation coordinates, an option that hadn't been included on the model Dad had given me. The screen previewed the three of us against a plain white wall instead of the murky background of the zoo. Dad pressed "ACCEPT" and wrapped his arms around Shiloh and me. I realized too late that I'd better warn Shiloh what he was in for. "Shiloh, it's gonna feel like..." By the time I could say, "...squeezing through Jell-O," we had already made the freaky transit through space and were standing in an all-white room that I recognized as one of the labs at Dad's company. Shiloh was reeling. He braced himself against a counter top to keep from falling and turned to Dad, wide-eyed. Of all the shit he had seen and experienced today, this teleportation had blown his mind the most. "How did you do that?" "Simple. The hydrogen componolizer interacted with the dichlorium atoms in your duodenum, generating a paradoxical flux which reverberated against the polonium-synchronized geographical wave spectro-analyzer and creating a temporal parahelion dispersion of point-two-seven." Shiloh stared at Dad, in awe. I laughed and said, "That was just a bunch of nonsense, Dad." Dad smiled. "Yeah, but if I'd said, 'It's magic,' you wouldn't have believed me." And with that, he walked purposefully toward a computer work station, where several other working models of the camera were charging. Shiloh and I stared at each other. In the course of one day, we had been hunks together and hulks together, but now we were face to face as our real selves. Two skinny guys, same height, same weight, with more in common than we would have assumed that morning. "Almost forgot what you looked like," Shiloh said. "I dunno why Cole made so much fun of you. You're a cute guy." Even in the dim light of the lab, I'm sure it was obvious that I was blushing. The way Shiloh was examining my emaciated frame, I got goosebumps. "I thought you liked your guys big." "I do." Shiloh's slim lips curled up. "But size isn't everything." Across the room, Dad cleared his throat loudly and started humming some unrecognizable tune, which is what he always did when he heard something he felt uncomfortable hearing. Shiloh and I walked over behind him to see what he was checking on his computer. He was cycling through all of our vital statistics which the camera had recorded. "Looks like you two guys are safely back to normal, so that's a relief. I can survive any shit I'm going to get from the company, but if I had done anything to harm you..." "I know, Dad," I said, wrapping my skinny arm around his shoulders. I could feel his body tense up, and he leaned forward to look at something on his computer. "What is it?" "I'm seeing two more blips," pointing to two bright spots on a map of the city, not far from Sixteenth Street. Dad turned to me, looking like he might be willing to harm me after all. "Care to enlighten me?" Shiloh scooted his body between Dad's and mine, trying to explain. "I did them!" Dad glanced at Shiloh, then angrily back at me. "You let someone else use the camera?" I was in the middle of shaking my head when Shiloh blurted out, "Ry didn't know. I snuck it away from him and did it totally on my own. Please, it's not his fault." Dad glared at Shiloh. "So are you telling me there are two more monsters on the loose out there?" "No! I made them both skinny! Skinnier than we are now! That shouldn't be dangerous, right? I mean, not as dangerous as super-sizing at least." Dad thought it over, still unhappy. "Well, no, in our tests, we've found that making the body smaller and leaner is actually healthier, within reason." Dad sat down, his temper cooling. His eyes darted between Shiloh and me as he decided whether or not to believe Shiloh's story. "Can you keep tabs on these other two? And if you notice ANY adverse changes in them, you'll bring them to me immediately for testing?" Shiloh and I said, "Yes" at the same time. I added "Dad". Shiloh added "Sir". Dad took blood samples from both of us and ran tests on them. While we waited for results, I checked YouTube on Dad's computer. Sure enough, a dozen or more grainy videos had already been posted of two mysterious figures prowling the streets of the city. Fortunately, nobody got a good shot of our faces -- not that either of us resembled those two gorillas any more. The company had a TV in the break room and we watched the late news with Dad. The monster rampage was naturally the lead story on all the channels, but the police seemed baffled. They thought they had the beasts cornered at the old zoo, but a thorough search turned up nothing. They did say that police were seeking a man who drove off in a pickup truck at a high rate of speed and they showed his mug shot from a previous arrest. Shiloh and I immediately recognized him as the big hairy guy who had taken off with Cole. He looked even scarier in the mug shot than he had in real life, with scowling features and steroidal muscles. "That's one of the guys, sir," Shiloh told Dad. Dad studied the screen. "And you say he's smaller than you boys now? I think you did the world a favor." Dad smiled and went to check on the blood tests. Left alone together in the lab, Shiloh and I stared at each other nervously. "So, what are we gonna do now?" "Life will go back to normal, I guess. I'll be my old wimpy self and you'll hang out with the rest of Cole's posse of douchebags." "I don't think I can, after this." "I know what you mean." "And what about...us?", Shiloh asked warily. "I dunno. I mean, I really loved what we did together, but I still like girls too." I looked down at my once-again anemic body. "But they probably won't like me. Story of my life." "Any girl, or guy, would be lucky to have you," Shiloh said, walking over and kissing me on the mouth. His lips weren't as luscious as the ones I'd specifically chosen for him, but they had the benefit of authenticity. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation. Anyone would be lucky to be kissed by Shiloh. I heard Dad clear his throat and begin to hum again in the hallway. Shiloh and I parted quickly as Dad reentered the room, pointedly looking down at a computer printout. "Good news, guys. I'm not seeing anything scary in the blood tests. You probably weren't at enormous size long enough to cause any permanent damage to your organs, but you let me know if you notice anything unusual in the next few days. Fatigue, migraines, shortness of breath, pain in your joints, pain in your...loins." Shiloh and I nodded. Dad got out his cell phone and called two cabs to pick us up. "I assume you two don't mind going back to campus the old fashioned way?" "Fine, Dad," I said. "I think I've been sucked through Jell-O enough for one lifetime." "Absolutely," said Shiloh. "You positive we didn't screw up anything for you?" "I'm sure I'll be asked a few stern questions in the morning," Dad said. "But your little unauthorized field test gave us tons of data to study. And quite a few more ethical questions to debate." When the cabs arrived, Dad shook Shiloh's hand, then gave me a warm hug. I heard him whisper in my ear, "Have fun at college, son. Make me proud." I was happy that, after all of this, it was obvious that he still loved me. I got in the cab and, as we drove away, I felt something hard in the back pocket of my skinny jeans. I wriggled in my seat and extracted it. Shiloh and I were amazed to discover that Dad had slipped another camera in my pocket, with a Post-It attached. In the passing street lights, I was able to read the note: "Ryan, This camera's options are limited. Yours are not. Love, Dad" "What do you think that means?", Shiloh asked. "I dunno." When we reached my dorm, I invited Shiloh to come up so we could check out the camera. Dad had deactivated most of the menus, but I discovered two presets, one with my name and one with Shiloh's. I snapped my picture in the full-length mirror, then applied my preset. My image on the screen now looked exactly like the musclebound stud I had first changed myself into the previous night. I clicked "ACCEPT" and braced for the standard painful contortions, although they felt like nothing compared to being enlarged to "BEHEMOTH" size. As the metamorphosis occurred, I realized that my mind hadn't dulled. Dad must not have lowered my IQ the way I had during my original transformation. I couldn't blame him. He wasn't spending good money to send a dope to college. Shiloh watched enviously as I evolved back into Ry before his eyes. As I grinned down at him, I could have predicted his next words. "Do me." He stood against the wall, still in his dumbass baseball cap. I eagerly applied the preset "SHILOH" modifications and pressed "ACCEPT". Shiloh was wracked with pain as his slim body was once again wrapped in lean muscle and sun-kissed skin, and his face regained the features I had given him, the sleek nose, the powerful cleft chin, the ultra-kissable lips. His purple hat evaporated and his hair turned from brown to golden. I reached both hands toward him and lifted him to his feet. We stood in the middle of my room, thick arms wrapped around each other's torsos, studying each other closely. If he had any imperfections, I couldn't see them, but I hoped to inspect him very, very closely, very, very frequently. We stripped off our clothes and tumbled onto my bed, our combined weight testing the limits of the springs. Since I had taken the lead back at the Manhole, I let Shiloh assume control now. Our powerful bodies slid across each other, working up a quick sweat. Long strands of Shiloh's blond hair dangled into my eyes as he explored my mouth with his tongue. My hands slid down along his ribs until I reached up and squeezed his ass cheeks. I felt his cock pressing against my abs and starting to ooze precum, so I wriggled underneath him until I was face down. He slid his erection gently but firmly inside of me and I yowled with a mix of pleasure and pain, clawing at my pillow and tensing my legs. Shiloh's strong hands were pressed against my back for support as the pace of his humping accelerated. When Shiloh came inside me, it may have been the best feeling I'd had all day, and after a day like this, that was saying something. But my cock was still rigid, so I flipped over and wrapped my hands around Shiloh's neck, pulling him down toward my erection. As he lovingly applied his tongue and lips to my shaft, slowly and lovingly bringing me to orgasm, the "best feeling of the day" competition had a new winner. Shiloh lay beside me, brushing his bristly chin against my cheek and rubbing his hand up and down my chest. He whispered in my ear, "Thank your dad for me." I laughed. I probably wouldn't mention this specifically to Dad, but I was glad he had been so cool about everything. I'm sure I had changed many of his perceptions of me that day. Shiloh slept over with me. Cole never did come back to the room that night, and in the morning we decided it was more important to track him down than to go to our classes. We knew basically where the blips had shown up on Dad's computer screen and hoped that Cole might still be near there. Sixty-Nine Street wasn't as active in the daytime, and city crews were still busy cleaning up the damage from last night's fracas. Shiloh and I attracted our share of attention as we walked down the sidewalk, but we had no fear that anyone would imagine that two studly gentlemen like ourselves were in any way connected with the massive creatures who had terrorized the town the night before. As we walked further down the street, I noticed something and grabbed Shiloh by the elbow, pulling him backwards. We had just walked past a pickup truck. One that was missing its driver's side door. Jackpot! Now all we had to do was figure out where... "Hey, boys!" We turned and were amazed to see Cole -- at least the slender twinky version of Cole I had created -- leaning against a wall. "Cole!", Shiloh shouted, looking relieved that his former crush was still alive and seemingly unharmed. Cole was wearing a sheer black tank that was way too big for him and a black Speedo that seemed to fit just fine. He still had on my purple sneakers. Even in this part of town, it was an unconventional look for street clothes in broad daylight, but he was pulling it off. It was a bit annoying that I had made my tormentor look so fucking cute. "Thank god, you escaped from that lunatic!", Shiloh said. "What lunatic? You mean Jerry? Oh, he's such a sweetheart. I'm waiting for him so we can go get matching tats." Shiloh and I couldn't believe what we were hearing. "You're still hanging out with the guy?", I asked. "Uh-huh. He's inside buying some new clothes right now. He woke up this morning and couldn't find a thing that fit. Fortunately his ex had left behind some clothes that were just right for me. You like?" "It's definitely a different look for you" was as much as Shiloh would commit. "So when you coming back to school?", I asked. Cole shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno if I will. Jerry wants me to go to a motorcycle rally in Reno with him. He's got a Harley and I can ride on the seat behind him!" The prospect seemed to excite him, if you could judge by his Speedo. Not that I really wanted old Cole back in the world, but my conscience was killing me. "Are you really sure about this? I found out there's a way to cure what you've got so you'll like chicks again." I had checked overnight, and the camera still would allow me to alter a person's sexual orientation. "Chicks? No thank you!" He flapped his hands dismissively. "No chick ever appreciated me the way Jerry does. Oh, and here comes my baby now." Even though I knew I had reduced him to an ectomorph in the middle of last night's craziness, Shiloh and I were unprepared for the shock of seeing the new Jerry. He was walking down the sidewalk toward us, zipping up his new leather jacket, his skinny legs encased in tight leather pants. Unlike the thuggish lout who had nearly run over Shiloh with his truck last night, he now looked like a boy-band dreamboat trying to look like a tough guy, with a slightly shaggy pile of light brown hair over a baby face that had never felt the touch of a razor. "Mmm, check out my sexy little boy-toy," Cole said. "Doesn't he look fantastic? Jerry, these are my dear friends Shiloh and Ryan." "Uh, yeah, we met last night," I said cautiously. I had been worried about running into last night's hothead again, but I felt pretty sure Shiloh and I could handle Jerry now. Jerry peered his bright blue eyes through the fringe of his bangs. "Oh, hey, how you guys doing today?" If he was still mad at us, it sure didn't show. He was positively meek as he wrapped a leather-clad arm around Cole's body, palming an ass cheek. Cole kissed Jerry on the forehead. Cole may be a shadow of his former self, but the camera had made Jerry even tinier, several inches shorter than Cole. "Awesome outfit, Jerry," Shiloh said. "Cole says you guys might be going to Reno?" "Yeah, if he'll let me buy his sweet ass some leathers. Somewhere around the Continental Divide, he'll realize he needs more than a tank top and Speedos." "We've got time, baby. Lots and lots of time." Cole gave Jerry a long French kiss, then smiled back at us. "So good to see you boys again." He blew us kisses, then they got into Jerry's truck and drove off. Shiloh and I watched the truck disappear around the corner. We were shell-shocked. "Holy shit," I said. "I guess your posse really is breaking up." "Good riddance. So...does that mean you have an opening for a new roommate, Ry?", Shiloh asked with a sly grin. I smiled back and teased, "Only if he looks as good in leather as Jerry." Shiloh's eyebrows leapt at the idea. He practically raced into the leather shop. As Shiloh began trying on jackets, I pulled out my camera and reopened my photo from last night. I hadn't pressed "SAVE", so it was still editable. I pulled up the "ORIENTATION" menu. My finger hovered over the screen as I thought about Kay from the pier and all of the girls in high school who had been content to be my friend but nothing more. And I thought about what Cole had said about Jerry. No "chick" had ever appreciated me the way Shiloh did. I slid the dial from "BISEXUAL" to "HOMOSEXUAL". I clicked "ACCEPT". I didn't feel much change, actually. Only a sense of calm and clarity as I watched Shiloh sliding his bare brawny arms through the holes of a leather vest. Goddamn, he looked hot. I might need to buy one of those too. I clicked "SAVE".
  9. LinkX

    muscle-growth If the Shoe Fits.

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

    muscle-growth My little buddy

    A short story, while I finish writing my complicated novelettes about space marines and magic, respectively. I am testing a little different way of writing technique. DISCLAIMER All protagonists, antagonists and locations in this story are fictitious. Any likeness with actual persons and locations are purely coincidental. Readers uncomfortable with the subject of male intimacy are adviced to not read further. My little buddy I remember when I first saw you. I had probably worked at Sam's Gym for five years, and at The Steel Factory for several yers before that. The Steel Factory Gym, I mean. Not an actual steel factory. Not like dad and grandpa. I am not like my dad. You were standing at a pec-dec machine, reading the instructions. Tracksuit trousers hiding your legs, a grey T-shirt which gave the impression to be one size too large. Your arms just skin and bones, your hands behind your back in a gesture more suitable for a man 30 or 40 years older than yourself. Uncomfortable body language. Sam had pointed me in your direction. 'If you are not going to use it, don't block the machine, small-fry.' It was Kevin, a fairly successful fitness model, whose personality 'didn't keep the same standards as his looks'. I remember this expression. You used it two weeks later. You are better with words than I am, and I know that I am bad at expressing my feelings. I am uncomfortable with it. Kevin wasn't aware of me, when I moved in your direction, and he added some further insults. He jumped when I laid my hand on his shoulder. 'Any problems here?' 'Uh. No, no, Brad. No problems. I just wondered if this gentleman was finished with the pec dec.' 'I have been keeping an eye on you, Kevin. Follow the house rules.' Kevin avoided to look into my eyes, by some reason concentrating very much on the newly painted coffee and amino drink bar. 'Yes, yes of course. No problems here.' I looked quizzically at you, but you shook your head, and looked into the floor. 'You are lucky, Kevin. The machine is at your disposal, since I and my client here are not going to use it.' I turned in your direction, neglecting Kevin: 'And you must be the new gym member I am scheduled to train, aren't you?' 'I suppose so. The man at the desk told me to wait for Brad. It's you?' I like the newbies. They have decided to do something new. Something different. They have decided to change themselves, and put a toe into a foreign water. It is different for us who played sports all the time. It is just what we do: Playing football at the grassy spot close to the council flats, given a try at rugby if the PE teacher make that phone call to the coach he knows. Being adviced to add some weight training, and then being hit by the bug and quitting team sports. I had a belly once. It wasn't necessarily a disadvantage, since weight is an advantage on the ground, but the belly disappeared when I began pumping iron. But I lost the thread now: What I was saying is, that I like the newbies. For us the gym is a second home. For them the gym is something unfamiliar, but they give it a try anyway. They and they... I mean you. You were one of the wide-eyed and shy newbies once. For some it is hard to admit that they like the feeling: The release of your body's own chemicals when you end your training session, and is sitting relaxing freshly showered in the locker room. The feeling of pump. The feeling after a month when the first results show. Three months. Six months. Guys are able to transform themselves. They are not competing against someone else. All of us are just competing against our former selves. I like the newbies: To be able to help them overcome their initial embarrasment and hesitation, and be able to help them to release their potential. I feel protective, as I felt protective against you then. As I still do. Our first training session went well. I instructed you three times the first week. The second week you maintained your own schedule, and then I gave some advice the third week, in order to ensure that you performed the movements without hurting yourself. It takes some time for your body to acquaintance itself to the correct movements. I am no longer able to recollect how it came that we began to hang around outside the gym. In some regards we were unlikely friends: A 5ft 5in university student with liberal middle class parents and a more than 6 ft tall personal trainer with a divorced working class mum. I enjoyed watching action films together with you, and I enjoyed when we just spent time talking. Years ago I spent considerable time drinking beer, but exercise have been increasingly more important for me by the years, so pub crawls are nowadays carefully timed exceptions, far and few between, in order to not disrupt my carefully planned meal schedules. The pub wasn't the best place to meet you. I like our talks. Your eyes have always been special: The mix of intelligence and mischief is nice, and their colour looks like it sparkles in a strange way. I mean 'strange' like fascinating. Not something bad. People of Kevin's sort irritates me. A confident man doesn't behave like that. But it embarras me to admit, that I was like them at early secondary school. If it hadn't been for the PE teacher, the scout patrol leader and Sister Jane, I could have turned out a rotten being. I abhorred (See? You taught me something: abhorred) most adults at secondary school. Abhorred. I will soon start speaking like you and your fancy friends (although I learned PT lingo at the courses Jack and Sam sent me to). Only adults who impressed me were worthy of my attention, and I wasn't easy to impress. The PE teacher was cool. He had competed in weightlifting when he was younger, and despite his intimidating looks, he wasn't an idiot like my considerably smaller dad. Dad had stopped hitting me when I began to play rugby, and the divorce happened shortly after. The scout patrol leader was stern if needed, but he was always fair. And Sister Jane was an unlikely person to feel comfortable with: What does a testosterone crazed teenaged bully have in common with a feminist nun with a Ph.D.? But she had a sense of humour and an ability to understand. I don't know how I shall express it... She understood. I don't know if the three of them had talked with each other about me, or if it just happened by coincidence, but after speaking with them I felt bad and confident at the same time. Bad for what I had done in the past, but confident of what I could do to change things in the future. I was able to apologise to most of the kids, and then on I became their guardian angel. When I saw bullying happen at school, I intervened, and I was good at it. When I met you, it was already ten - no twelve or thirteen - years since I reformed my life to the better. We had known each others for a year or so. Within your personal limits and conditions, your achievements at the gym were good, but not optimal. Since we were friends, I had begun to take an interest in your case which probably exceeded the professional. I felt very worried that night when you rang on my doorbell and stood with a very sad and very upset facial expression at my doorstep. 'What has happened, little buddy? Come inside! You look devastated.' You really looked devastated. All my protective instincts kicked in. I handed you a low-carb amino drink from my refrigerator, and grabbed one myself. We ended up in the sofa, your tiny frame leaning on one arm of the sofa, my bulk relaxing in the opposite end. 'What is it? Did you fail in any exam?' 'No. No, it is nothing like that.' You fell silent for a while. I gave you time, took a sip, and waited. 'I am so sorry to make you disappointed. Please, be not upset about this, but there is something I must tell you. You may find it terrible.' Your sad expression gave me a heartwrenching icy feel in my gut: 'But what is it? You can tell me. We are friends, right?' 'Oh, Brad. I'm so sorry, but I would be dishonest if I... If... If I didn't tell you that I am gay.' I was probably a very bad friend when I exploded in laughter, but I couldn't control my reaction. Several expressions rapidly came and went in your face: Sadness, surprise, resentment and bewilderment (Look! I can use more fancy words!) 'Little buddy. I wasn't sure if you are or not, but does that matter? I'm gay too. Haven't you understood?' I love that facial expression. You are so cute when you do that. My perplex little power hobbit. It was not the last of our very long and very late discussions about personal experiences, straight people's expectations and prejudices, and gay people's expectations and prejudices. Why many of these are wrong or misguided. About closet cases. About bears and the fetish crowd, and how they differ from the twinks. About muscle worship. Your were, and you still are, much better than me to express your feelings in speech, but I was at least, to a certain extent, more experienced than you: After a handful of rather disappointing dates with girls as a teenager, I had a few short encounters with gays my own age at that clubbing street. My muscles seemed to be popular among some, perhaps more so than me as a person. That disturbed me, although I was flattered too in a sense. I don't know. Anyhow, I had hanged around the blocks for a while longer than you, although it would be an exaggeration to call me experienced. It took us two days to admit to each other that we were very much into each other: Your small frame resting in my vein-covered arms, and your cute nose nuzzled at my meaty pecs (of those I was rather proud), our rods enthusiastically bouncing against the inside of our underpants, waiting for all clothes to be taken off. My little buddy. Although your hungry admiration of my muscles couldn't be hidden, now when the lid was off, you always took an interest in me, myself, who I am inside, and I am sorry for not telling you about how I was a bully when thirteen and fourteen. I was ashamed. I knew that Sam would consider it unprofessional to live with one of the gym members, but I was lucky: Jack, who owned The Steel Factory, was an old mate, and wanted me to work for him instead. As soon as I had changed job, we could move to our new flat. Your were delighted at my assistance with new training schedules, eating schedules and supplements, and I felt proud giving you that assistance, seeing how you transformed from your old, shy self with its awkward pose, into a toned young man with a considerably more confident expression. But you were definitely a hardgainer. When you first stepped inside Sam's Gym, you looked like a sea mammal (but without any fat): No visible pecs (just a flat chest) and no visible abs (despite the low level of subcutaneous fat). After one and a half year, your high metabolism had the good side with it, that your abs were visible. They were small, sure, but they were there, and nothing hid their well-defined existence. Your wiry pecs now showed that they existed, but not beyond that. Your exercise had changed your upper body form: Traps and shoulders were distinctly visible in a way they were not before, but you were still at the very slim end of the spectrum. Once my tiny little friend, you were now my little power hobbit. You were a typical ectomorph, but at least I tried to make your calorie intake higher than before, looking for new and fancy nutrition drinks. I have to admit that I had used gear before taking the job at Sam's. Jack and the Steel Factory crowd didn't mind, but Sam had a strict zero level policy when it came to such substances. Back at The Steel Factory, I began hearing rumours about that top secret experiment the Military in several countries had performed on marines: The guys came back from Service like brickhouses, but were forbidden to talk about it. It had obviously started years ago, and pirate copies of the needed equipment had began to circulate on the black market. It was rumoured, that some guards at global corporations had went through the treatment, and another rumour claimed that wrestling federations had made investments in such research, in order to make the business more eye-popping in the future. It wasn't easy to know what was conspiracy theories, what was pipe dreams, and what was true. Until the night I met Tvrtko. He had exercised at The Steel Factory for years, and always been a big guy, but now he was huge. No one dared to ask. Well, except me. He knew me rather well, and he told me. He had probably told me for half an hour, when we made the deal. 'No, there would be no problem with any crime syndicates. It could have been, if you wanted to buy their services in giving you The Treatment... Shady business, you know... But it is entirely different if you buy a second hand machine and give yourself The Treatment. No strings attached. Just buy it, store it where the authorities doesn't look, use it, and if you want to sell it to another user afterwards, it your private matter. It doesn't concern me. Am I clear? Am I perfectly clear?' * * * Your birthday occurred on a Saturday, and there was no need to take the day off. We had the entire weekend for ourself. When you came home Friday evening I gave you an envelope. 'It is better to open it tomorrow, isn't it?' 'No. Open it now.' ' "Do you want to be big?" What sort of question is that? You know that I want to be big. If a miracle could occur, it would be amazing to be tall like you, but I have to limit my goals to pack on some brawn.' You sighed. 'I eat and I eat, and nothing happens.' 'I wouldn't use the word nothing. Think how you looked when I started training you?' 'Yes, there have been some changes, but I am not like my favourite cuddling monster, am I?' Your arms around my waist. Your head against my chest. Your ear against my abs. I was beginning to feel horny. 'No. I mean it. If you really want to become big, that is your birthday present. To begin with, I have a new supplement to you.' 'Another one? Well. You know what you are doing. You've got the PT education.' You let me go when you felt the nice smell of food. I had tried to use the supplements I got from Tvrtko as creatively I could. The spaghetti on the table was a mix of wheat and soy, and therefore with a slightly higher protein content than ordinary pasta, but it was available in ordinary supermarkets. The pasta sauce contained ordinary food, such as mushrooms, spinache and a lot of spices to hide the mildly unpleasant taste. That taste came from the powder I had got from Tvrtko. I had also used it in the sauce which was mixed with the salat, and the pudding in the refrigerator was a mixture of Tvrtko's powder, a milky liquid of similar content, and lots of sugar, vanilla and egg to hide the taste. 'I have used a lot of new supplements in this meal', I remarked. 'You have? It tastes considerably better than some of the gainers you have been feeding me.' 'Ready for your surprise?' 'I thought the new supplements were the surprise, and a slightly underwhelming one.' Oh, how I like that spark in your eyes. 'No, there is more to come, if you really want.' 'I like surprises. You know it. What are you up to?' 'It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you.' Two hours later we sat in the car together, and I drove into an empty parking lot, close to a warehouse. It was dark. The light from the car reflected in the moist asphalt and the rainwater puddles. It drizzled when I unlocked the warehouse. I put a blind before your eyes, and you smiled, when I carefully led you through the warehouse. You seemed to have expected something else, when I removed the blind. 'What's that?' You observed The Machine. According to Tvrtko, it was smaller than the military equivalents, and it required the specimens to drink large amounts of nutrition drinks and nutrition powder a few hours before operation. Tvrtko had heard something about the Army using IV or something. Large gas cylinders were connected to The Machine on the back, and looked considerably newer than the rest of the equipments (Gas cylinders had to be renewed often, and were hard to find). 'It's a muscle enhancing machine. It's your birthday gift.' You looked slightly angry, when you began looking up in the ceiling: 'I expected a surprise party at an unusual location, but now it seems to be candid camera or something like that. Who's hiding and filming this right now.' 'I am perfectly honest. It is a muscle stimulating machine.' It hadn't crossed my mind, that it could be hard to convince you that The Machine was for real. It took a few minutes. I could see and hear how you slowly went from annoyed to surprised, from surprised to suspicious, and from suspicious to something less obvious. 'If you have gone through these lengths to make this possible, I will not disappoint you, but it is hard to believe. How could it possibly be true? Don't you think it feels a little unreal just now? And I am beginning to feel funny, warm or something.' 'It is probably the supplements I told you about. They begin to work now. If we opt out, we will probably gain some muscle and some fat anyhow, but far from the results I have been promised if we use that.' I nodded in the direction of the slightly intimidating presence in the room: The Machine. We stood silent for a few seconds. Then you gave me a sly expression: 'What if you tested the machine first?' It hadn't occurred to me that this was an option. It felt exciting to take part of the experiment myself (I had brought equipment to do that after you), but it was meant as a gift to you. I kept silent. I didn't know what to say. 'It is a double birthday present, if it really works: I have to watch you became even more brilliantly big, which is a really exciting thought, I can assure you, and then I can take part of this experiment myself, if it really works.' Doubt still emanated from you, but mixed with expectations that the impossible would be possible. We went through the operation of The Machine. 'It is obviously a dumbed down pirate copy: You change what you wish to achieve at this panel, and increase power levels at this panel, put the gas on with this control, and this must be a speaker with microphone, so that we can talk. It sounds reasonably simple?' I unpacked the training bags: Towels and soap (The warehose had a shower once meant to be used by workers), tracksuits in large sizes (I didn't know exactly how much The Treatment would affect us) and then two pairs of odd things. I held the posing trunks made of leather before you. You took it in with humour: 'Any new ideas how to kink this up? That's something new!' 'Actually, there is a reason for them. According to Tvrtko, cotton fabrics take fire and synthetic fibres melt inside The Machine. He tested, by putting some piece of clothing inside, since he wanted to avoid 'to look gay', as he expressed it. It seemed to have passed him by that you and I live together.' 'Cotton take fire? And synthetics melt? And we are to believe that human beings are just fine, and don't become radioactive or something else?' We discussed shortly, decided to do it anyway, changed clothes, and prepared for the use of The Machine. I began to feel hot, despite the fact that I was naked. It was probably the supplements that kicked in. The inside of The Machine was spacious enough for four or five persons at least. The walls were covered with some sort of glass lenses or something. Strange equiment hang in the ceiling, but since I am not an engineer, I could not guess at their functions. 'This gives the word closet case a new meaning.', you joked from the outside. The speakers worked. 'Can you hear me?' 'Yes, fine, can you hear me?' 'Yes, perfectly. Good that some things on this wreck works.' The inside smelled rather much like the smell I knew from tanning salons. I could sense a vague hint of smoke, perhaps from Tvrtko's mishap with the cotton pants, but there was also a whiff of cleaning solution. I felt very warm. The posing trunks emitted a whiff of leather. I wasn't normally into leather, but it felt naughty to stand there in the buff, excepting just this small equipment of clothing. Black. Glossy. A hissing sound. 'I opened the gas transmission. Everything alright?' 'I am able to breathe as usual. I tell you if I begin to feel funny.' It felt like ordinary air. Perhaps slighly more... chemical. I took a deep breath. And another one. 'No, nothin special yet. Don't worry.' 'I put the powerfield on now, whatever it is. Are you really sure it is safe?' 'How many times do I have to tell you, taht Tvrtko used it months ago, and haven't suffered any... Ungh!' The powerfield hit me, but in a good way. God! What was that? It felt... Oh! 'Oh, it feels good, little buddy. Everything alright outside?' 'I think so. It looks like you are glowing. It's pretty cool. Just tell me if...' Unh! It felt like my entire body was buzzing. Buzzing of something. Buzzing pleasantly. Buzzing... o my God! 'It's good! It's so... mmmm. You will like it when you... oh. Um!' 'It works, Brad! You are growing! You are actually growing! You look awesome!' I had been proud of my pecs for years, but now they were trembling, while they grew larger. Unlike you, the abs had always been a problem spot for me: They existed, alright, and I had been able to feel their hard presence under my belly fat, and even sense a visual hint of them now and then, but the remaining fat had always hid them from sight. Now, the fat melted away, under the pressure of my scientifically heightened metabolism and the strange God-knows-what radiation that was released into The Machine. The Treatment had begun to race through my body. 'Unngh, Brad. You look incredible! You should be able to watch yourself! I can't take it! It is too alluring! I change the settings, yes changing the settings like this, and this.' 'What are you doing? Ummm. Uh. Safety... ummm, oh! Yes!' 'My cuddling monster is becoming a super cuddling monster. Oh! Look at you! Look at that awesomeness! Did I tell you that these posing trunks actually are beginning to feel comfortable?' Your voice came from afar. My transformation experience was beginning to be overwhelming. I didn't know what settings you may have changed, and what safety protocols you could have disregarded, but I wasn't able to object, since the feeling was so intense: The feeling of growth. My shoulders was becoming volley balls or bowling balls. My biceps swelled into monstrous globes of hot, steel hard flesh, and my triceps turned into corded steel wires. You said something, but I couldn't hear exactly what, since the humming sound from the machine, the hissing gas, the sound of my own pulse in my ears - like a sledge hammer - and the raw feeling of growth all claimed my attention. My thighs became pillars of might. My calves exploded into rugby balls. Rugby balls of granite. My traps, my titanium traps... I felt dizzy, but not in a bad way. My back could now carry the entire world, or so it felt. I dont know how long time had lapsed, when I felt your hand against my abs. One part of my brain probably had a vague idea about us taking turns in the machine, but in my enraptured state I didn't care. You were here, with me, inside The Machine and shared my experience of The Treatment, just as I shared yours. My rod pulsated against the inside of my posing trunks. I could hear you roar, as you shared the effects. Effects of the gas. Of the settings. New settings. What we wish to achieve? Power levels? Of the... POWER LEVELS! It was even better than before. Whatever you had done, The Machine now worked on an entirely new level. I held you, standing behind you, as many times before. My little buddy in front of me. I could nuzzle my nose in your hair. It was just a few months since you changed that old fashionable haircut into a fierce buzzcut. The buzzcut suits you. You look much more masculine in the buzzcut. I let my hands - my growing hands? - rest over your pecs. It was obvious that you were growing just like me, perhaps even more so, since your beginner level was... different. What a pair of amazing pecs you had got! And they were still growing! Is my power hobbit turning into a little Lesukov clone, eh? You shivered. I shivered. And then I felt it: You were growing in every way. You were growing taller. You roared. I nuzzled your buzzcut. My rod had pulsated against your back not so long time ago, but now it pulsated against the hollow in your lower spine, and you were still growing. I had to change the angle I nuzzled your buzzcut. Taller. Definitely taller. My little buddy becoming big. Mmmm. Big. I felt bigger, but you grew faster than me. I liked how you grew faster than me. Birthday present. Power. Mmmm. My big hands explored your abs. They had been defined before. Now they had turned into six cannon-balls of uncrushable might. I shivered again. You groaned. Or moaned. I explored your traps. Massaged them while the new settings executed their work on us. So hard and full. Amazing. Your were now beyond what I was when I entered The Machine, and you were approaching what I was becoming. Still becoming. Both of us. Together. Am I not thinking clearly? Oh, it's so good. So good! The new veins running on your arms. Oh! I shivered. You shivered together with me. I could feel the smell of sweat. Sweat rich of testosterone. And the smell of leather. Warm leather. My big hands explored your hard washboard abs again, and then continued further south. You shivered. I could feel your rod bouncing and pulsating on the inside of the trunks. It felt larger than before. Than ever before. You moaned. You shivered. Your leather trunks ripped apart, unable to resist your tool, giving my unprepared hand a lash. Your body against mine. Hot in every sense. My rod at the height of your diamond hard bum. You shivered. New settings. Of what we want to achieve. And power levels. Power. Levels. It felt so... so... Yes it was filling me. And it was filling you. The Power. All these power bolts! Making our metabolisms to packing on more brawn. More! Power emissions into us. Into our brawn. Bolts. Of masculinity. No, hyper-masculinity! Hitting. Surging. Loading. Beyond physicality. Becoming power beings. Of power muscles. Your back! Now with ridges. Valleys. Hard. Against my chest. My mind-blowing pecs. What are you doing? Turning. Around? Mmmm. What. Are. You. Doing? Trunks. Gone? When? Oh you little... Oh. Um. My big little. Unnngh! Now? During... Treatment? My big little... Oh! Enormous little buddy between my legs. You...kidding? Nnngh. Your titanic traps. My Quads. My gigantic little buddy. Protect. Growing. Power levels. Invincible! Yes! YES! YES! BEYOND ALL REASON! BEYOND ALL
  11. CardiMuscleman

    m/m Arrowhead, the Last Apache

    Chapter One "The Oregon Trail was laid by fur traders and trappers from about 1811 to 1840, and was only passable on foot or by horseback. By 1836, when the first migrant wagon train was organized in Independence, Missouri, a wagon trail had been cleared to Fort Hall, Idaho" As the legendary guide Kit Carson looked up at the folks gathered around him, he added "This is the second stage of what I believe can be truly called "The Great Wagon Train" but you saw what we had to deal with just then, that is why we must carry on" and with that nodded his head to his trusted lieutenant Jim who nodded his understanding and reported back to his wife at the back of the train with the news that she had been dreading to hear. “But Jim” protested his wife as she nursed her infant son, “he needs a rest from the jolting. He needs some soup!” Jim solemnly shook his head. “Sorry, Alice” he replied, “but Kit says no. Look, he’s asleep now. You can have a sleep yourself. When you wake up we’ll be nearer to California and he’ll be still by your side!” and with that he leaned over on his horse and kissed his wife. Reassured, she settled down and her husband re-joined the front of the train. As the train rolled on, a violent jolt woke up the child and as he yawned he caught sight of his still sleeping mother. Rolling over and crawling to the back of the wagon, he sat down and smiled. “Daddy, bang, bang, nice!” he gurgled He had seen his father use the rifle latched onto the end of the wagon on a number of occasions and had always wanted to touch it, but his father always said “Daddy’s bang bang”, however with his father nowhere to be seen and his mother asleep he leant over to touch it. Just then, the wagon hit a rock and caused the son to overbalance and he fell out of the wagon and landed with a heavy bump that caused him to start crying. Whether the mother heard those cries it was impossible to tell, as soon the child became lost in the high grass. About an hour later, the small child appeared out of the brush that marked the start of the Midwestern Plains and was spied upon by Chief Grey Cloud, the most powerful of all the Native American chiefs. The little child had been taught to fear the native Americans, however as he looked at the chief whispering "Mommy and Daddy lost", the chief dismounted from his horse and looked at the child then spoke to his braves in the language of the Apache people. “Comanche smoke signals, wagon train attacked not far from here!” “Then papoose orphan!”. Grey Cloud felt a great sympathy with this orphaned child. It had been two months since his own son had been killed in a hunting accident whilst out hunting buffalo and it had shaken his confidence greatly. As he looked at the child who smiled for the first time since they had met, he raised an arm to the sky and announced “I thank the Great Spirit for sending me this child, I promise to raise him as my own!” “Grey Cloud has spoken” answered the other braves and with that Grey Cloud placed the child next to him and geed his horse to return to his tribe. The chief’s arrival with the new member of the tribe was greeted with a great deal of interest and after an inspection by the medicine man who determined that the child was indeed an orphan, he was formally adopted by Grey Cloud and given the Indian name “Blue Eyes” on account of his piercing blue eyes.
  12. laboriens

    m/m dating site

    I know I have a lot of history that has just started but I’m starting yet another one, like those that follow me, but history all have different themes, but they are all on the same subject, the muscles, the adoration, brutality, human crushing, fetishes, so like my other stories it has hard content. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________ chapter 1: presentation my name is quentin, i am 30 years corpulent, 1m75 for 95kg I'm passive gay with lots of fetishes, but I'm so shy that I didn't realize any, I like muscles and would see them again, I also dream of being crushed by force but also in muscles, I even imagine the superhero superman sometimes squeezing me with that super-strength, but alas I look at muscular men discreetly so I don't see many, serte I could see them in the weight room, but I'm so shy that I do not enter this building because just the sight of their stature makes me draw up the penis (small penis), but another fetish sound on the smells like the sweat of the armpits after a training session or that which did not have have been washed for a long time, the smell of fart, the smell of sweat on other parts of the body, you also like brutal men who are without embarrassment even more those of the profession of police or military because their uniform makes them comemd are monsters and men who give orders, you also dream of a man with the longest and the biggest penis who demolished your ass, but hey you never did it so you don't know how it is. you even did research to learn about the issue, you read case because of their nutrition, their fart was big bomb and feels very bad for this that these men do not fart in public, they are also often furry certainly it looks prettier but it is mainly because of sweating because muscle men sweat a lot more than a normal man is it smells much stronger if they have hairs (armpits, pecs, etc) sweat and the smell will be even more horrible. one thing that you know about yourself is that you have a gift because you cannot die without having blood, but you can even suffer with the same feelings as a normal person and your body reform afterwards for a moment so if you crash flat you will scream during the procedure of being crushed is to have the same feeling as a normal man except that at the moment when the normal man passed out or died you are still happy and can still speak so even you flat and conscious, for the smell you will learn that it is the same thing a bad smell that can faint or kill will just make you scream and hurt. you had already looked for several gay dating site to try to find muscular man and to achieve some fetiche my alas you do not find because it was rare or it is man did not want to do what you like, then one day you receive in your mail is some kind of advertisement for a special gay dating site like name "Musclor" you were intrigued because the ad showed just a muscular man and a skinny man you skeptically click on the link because you were afraid it was a scam, a fake site, once you get to the page you see a familiar logo that goes up free but also certify that reassures you then you go to who we are for know that she is the concept of this site, it is written "You are a muscular man looking for a shrimp or you are a shrimp who is looking for a muscular man, this site is there for you, create your profile and get back to you announcement, this site but in relation it is nobody to carry out an appointment in the real life but attention the shrimp can see that the profile of the muscular man, it is also possible to make plan has several but that several muscular man with a shrimp, it is sticketement prohibited to ask for money, it has that 1 means of contact which is the cat but do not worry you all the world remains on line h24 is when have you contact by chat and that you are not connected you received the message by sms which you s allows you to respond directly by sms (free sms) which allows you to be always reachable but also to be able to continue these conversations without being afraid of missing anyone. " you were blown away by this message and you already knew what you will write in the announcement of your profile
  13. Ultram0th

    m/m Ultram0th's Snippets

    I'm a bit unsure of where else to post this, but I created a few short image stories based on random pictures/morphs that are online (I didn't take the pictures nor did I create the morphs, credit for those go to the artists). Here are a few I'd like to share with you all. If you like them and would like to see more stuff, I post stuff on my Tumblr Account at: http://ultram0th.tumblr.com 1. Mysterious Man: “You always wear skin-tight clothing… why not save time?”, Victim: “Hey?! What happened to my clothes, why am I naked?!” Mysterious Man: “What clothes? You always walk around naked, showing off that perfect ass to every man in town.” Victim: “B-but, I’m not gay… and wh-what about my…?” 2. “Holy crap! You’re Jackson Gunn!” an excited voice exclaimed from behind the muscled hunk. Jackson looked away from the vegetable oil he was examining in the grocery store, giving a customary smile to the nerdy looking guy who stood wide-eyed behind him. The skinny guy ran his excited eyes up and down his muscled frame, obviously admiring the muscles that were hidden behind the polo and denim jeans that the man now wore since he was just out and about on his daily life. “Nice to meet a fan,” Jackson said, quickly turning away to resume his grocery shopping. Sure the hunk stripped and did several videos online, but the cocky alpha guy persona was just an act he put on for the cameras when he was at work. But when he was off the clock, he just wanted to do normal things without being bothered. “I hope I’m not bothering you,” the nerd continued, making Jackson purse his lips, “but could I get a picture of you? My friends will never believe that I ran into THE Jackson Gunn if I don’t get a pic.” Jackson was about to tell the guy to fuck off, but figured that it couldn’t hurt to grow his fanbase. “Sure,” he huffed,” setting his grocery basket down onto the ground and flexing his arms upwards to form a double biceps pose, his massive biceps curling out of the small sleeves of his polo. The nerd smirked and pulled out his phone, taking a picture with the flash on… it was actually really bright and even left the muscle hunk a little dazed. He blinked away the spots in his vision, annoyed with the whole ordeal and ready to finish his shopping so he could just go home. “I hope that works out for you,” he grunted. “It sure did,” the nerd replied, a smile detectable in his voice. When Jackson’s vision finally cleared, he cocked his eyebrow to find that instead of just dropping his pose, he moved to another one, pivoting the smallest bit to form a side-chest pose, the buttons nearly popping off of his shirt. At first he thought that it was just habit, muscle memory from one of his stripping routines, but the stud was soon horrified to realize that he couldn’t stop posing. Like it had a mind of its own, Jackson was shocked to feel his own arms tear his tight shirt away from his body, his hands even beginning to fumble with the button on his jeans. “What the fuck?” he cried out. “Why can’t I control my body?” The nerd chuckled. “I figured that you could just give me a private show… whenever I want.” Jackson’s eyes widened as he opened up one of the containers of vegetable oil, dosing his chest in the shiny liquid, smearing it all over his rippling muscles to accentuate their roundness. He grit his teeth as he fought with all his might to stop squirming around and flexing, but all to no avail. When he thought it couldn’t get worse, the stunned hunk dropped his pants and twerked his giant ass towards the nerd, all the while his hands tugged at his nipples. He pleaded with himself to stop, but his body was no longer his to control, it was now the nerd’s, and he was practically his puppet now. Things only went downhill for the stud when he tore away his boxers, leaning over and shoving his fingers deep inside his hole, moaning loudly for the whole store to hear. Every man in the store was attracted by the hunk’s moaning, and rushed over to enjoy the impromptu show. Jackson’s moaning face was red with embarrassment as he fingered himself in public, unable to stop behaving like a muscle slut 24/7 now. 3. Eddie rolled his eyes at himself, cursing at himself for forgetting his body wash back in his locker as he was already in the shower stall, naked with his bulging muscles slick with water. “Dammit,” he hissed, annoyed with the minor inconvenience of getting out and so forth. “You good?” the person in the next stall asked him. “Yeah,” Eddie grunted, just forgot my body wash.” He was about to turn off the water to retrieve it when the shower neighbor reached over the stall, handing him a clear bottle that was filled with a pinkish goo. “Here, use mine,” he said. Eddie shrugged his massive shoulders and graciously took the offered bottle, lathering himself up in the sugary-scented soap, shaking his head at the odd smell. As he rinsed it off, he felt a slight tingling in his ass, but shook it off seeing as how he’d done a lot of squats today. The tingling grew stronger with each passing second, resonating from deep within his ass… almost as if it were deep within his hole, like a scathing itch begging to be scratched. “Wh-what the fuck?” Eddie groaned as he gritted his teeth, the tingling morphing into a full on vibration, demanding attention, nearly bringing the bodybuilder to his knees. “Oh… oh shit!” he panted, leaning his head against the tiles of his shower stall, instinctively pushing his sensitive ass out into the air, even the drips of water flowing over its roundness sending jolts of pleasure throughout his body. “What’s happening to me?” His stomach dropped as he felt his cheeks shudder and his thigh muscles stretch as if they were being pulled. He hesitantly looked over his shoulder, his jaw dropping as he watched his already impressive ass grow out from behind his, filling out into the perfect bubble butt which swayed and jiggled behind him. With shaking hands, Eddie reached behind him and grabbed a hold of his enlarged cheeks. “Fuuuuucckkkk,” he moaned deeply, his cock standing at attention at the mere touching of his cheeks. His shower curtain ripped open and a man was standing there with a grin on his face. “I’ve always admired your ass, Eddie,” he smiled. “I just thought you could use a little adjustment.” The other man fell to his knees and in one swift motion, spread Eddie’s huge asscheeks apart and buried his face in them, lapping at his puckered hole. Eddie’s mouth opened, but no sound came out as he was overcome with the tidal waves of pleasure that washed over him. His new ass was massive and it was more sensitive than his cock… which slowly began to inch its way into his body, shrinking until it was no more than two inches long. Not that it mattered. Eddie would never get off with his cock, only able to achieve any sort of orgasm by having his ass played with or stuffed full from now on. The now bottom-heavy bodybuilder didn’t have time to panic about his new growth and loss; instead he rolled his head back as he loudly moaned, unable to concentrate on anything besides the other man’s face in between his giant cheeks. -- -- -- I hope that you all enjoy what I have to show, there's more on my Tumblr if you'd like to check it out! And I'm always looking forward to any criticism so I can improve! Thank you!
  14. Neverstopgrowing

    m/m Diatestrol

    “how big do you want to get James." I say to myself looking in the mirror. "there's no limit."” I respond holding the syringe in my hand. Ok.. so 1 ml…..ah fuck it lets just double it and see what happens. Now let me begin by saying I have always wanted to be massive. Like take a pro bodybuilder….then double it…no scratch that quadruple it. Mainly because quads are my favorite. Don’t get me wrong though if you saw me in person you would do a double take. I’m about 5’10 220lbs. any guy would kill to have my body as it already is, but not me. I want to be a freak and after this last coach ditching me for a bodybuilder who has more potential I’m done. I’m done relying on these guys. So this is where I’m at and I hope you’re ready for the journey. I begin by taking my eight mandatory poses and weight. 221.4 this morning. Ok not bad Xls fit tight and my ass looks amazing. But I did all this research and found a distributer of this new steroid on the market. It’s Diatestrol. Apparently it’s a super intense version of dianabol, test, and winstrol. Which ok whatever no one has tried it yet. My friend Thomas told me he could get me some before it’s pulled completely so I said fine and he ordered me as many vials as he could. Now theres suppose to be no side effects and I’m interested in knowing….hold on my phone is going off. Its Thomas…. Weird. “Hey Thomas.” “ James did you take the serum yet?” Shit…..should I tell him I just doubled the dosage and shot myself up. “No way why?” “Oh thank god. Throw it away James. Its completely pulled the doctors who made it are in prison.” OH FUCK.. WHAT THE HELL DID I DO. “James?” “Yeah?” “You ok? You didn’t take it did you?” “no way dude. I’ll get rid of it. Has anyone taken it?” “no one thank god. Apparently the government documentation said it causes mental, physical, and sexual disabilities.” Oh god……I think to myself “oh shit.. well thanks for calling me.” Well fuck…I guess I’m going to die. “wait before you go Thomas, has anyone died? And how does the government know this if there isn’t any human test subjects?” “oh they tested monkeys it says. No deaths it reports. I don’t know man just throw it out. See ya at the gym later.” Ok fuck.. well at least no one died. Damn I’m hungry. I really need to go to the grocery store. *gurgle*. Fuck I’m starving! I jump in my car and drive to the nearest taco bell. I know I know don’t judge me I’m just starving. Wait didn’t Thomas call me a few minutes ago…uhm yeah I guess he did . Weird I don’t’ even remember our conversation. Ah fuck the seatbelt is cutting into my pecs. “Welcome to taco bell how may I take your order.” “I want it all.” “excuse me?” “everything you have give me 10 of everything on the menu.” What the fuck am I saying. OH FUCK I’M STARVING! “sir seriously?” “YES I’M FUCKING SERIOUS!” woah james calm down what is getting into you. Wait didn’t you take some new steroid….. “sorry I mean yes please. I’m just really hungry.” “ok sir that will be 1068.72.” “sure thing.” “theres a lot here sir can you pull around front and we will bring.” “BRING IT TO ME AS ITS GETTING DONE!” Why does the girl look so terrified of me? Ah fuck this seatbelt is really hurting. God damnit…oh shit…. I just yanked the seat belt off the wall….. god damnit. Oh praise god the first order here and I begin stuffing my face. Just one after another and I’m keeping up with them. Almost an hour later and I’m still stuffing my face. My stomach protruding out fighting for space against my steering wheel. I finish my last bite. FUCK THAT FEELS AMAZING! “GYM TIME!” I floor it to the gym and get there seeing Gabe the big guy that trains here. 6’4 300lbs. Ya that sounds like a lot but at 6’4 he should be 360 to be a true freak. He still walks normal… its pathetic. I get out of the car and slam my door. I’m breathing abnormally heavy. Walking in I see Thomas my slender gay best friend. Tall dark and handsome with an ass that goes for days. He definitely has a models body but the brains of boy genius. “damn james.” “what?” “what are you on?” “what do youmean?” “You look like you’ve gained 10lbs since yesterday.” “dude I weighed myself this morni…..” I stop thinking to myself. Wait I did inject myself with that serum. I DID. DOUBLE THE DOSE OH FUUUUCK. I stare at Thomas with a look that obviously freaks him out. “james…. You ok?” “yeah I need to weigh my…” I spot the squat rack that Gabe is at. He has it loaded with 4 plates on each side. “I can squat that.” “What? You can squat what Big Gabe is squatting?” “fuck yes I can.” I said smacking my chest then smacking Thomas’ ass. “Come watch me crush this bitch.” I begin strutting over to Gabe. I see him sitting on the floor sweat pouring off of him. He looks beat. “are you fucking serious bro.” WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH ME TODAY. “excuse me”. Gabe grunted in between breaths. His pecs heaving up and down. “Watch a true muscle freak.” I go under the weight and hold on. I’ve never even lifted over 315 how do I think I’m going to lift this. I lift the weight. My knees shaking but I notice veins popping out everywhere. Thomas’ eyes are getting wider I can see in the mirror behind me. I begin to descend down my ass hitting the bottom of the hole. Then I try to push up. But I’m stuck. Gabe begins to laugh. “oh ya what a big tough muscle fr….”He stops mid sentence as I let out an obscene scream and explode up. I go again. And again. And again. I bust out 20 reps and throw the weight on the rack. “FUCK YA YOU BITCH.” I Look up at gabe my eyes level with his chin. He grabs my shirt “you calling me a bitch bro.” “Uh ya I am you fucking idiot.” I say grabbing his wrists and slowly starting to squeeze. I see pain overcome his face. I feel power building inside me. I look in the mirror as Gabe drops to his knees and his face lands in my crotch. My cock twitches in delight as a new slave is being made. Wait did I just say slave… also why am I getting so worked up. I see in the mirror my muscles bulging all over. I look massive. Veins popping out everywhere they almost seem to be pulsing. “You are a fucking asshole.” Gabe spits at me. “oh really? Fucking asshole?” I begin to squeeze his wrist harder until I hear a snap. Gabe screams out in pain and I look at Thomas who has a massive wet spot all over his pants. I look back in the mirror and at the weight I just demolished. I look around the gym and see people quickly collecting their things. What is their issue? I’m just trying to work out here. Damn why is gabe on the floor….. Oh fuck I’m starving. Noticing my clothes are so fucking tight. I knew I sucked at laundry. I then rip my shirt and a shorts off. Thomas lets out an audible gasp. I look fucking amazing. I’m huge. My biceps are massive and split down the center with mountain like peaks. My traps are raising up towards my ears. My pecs are so huge that my nipples can’t even be seen. My 6 no 8 no HOLY FUCK MY 12 PACK! Is so fucking shredded. I rub my hands over them a few time to which I see two legs…no they aren’t legs these are fucking tree trunks. They are so huge that I’m not even sure I’ll be able to walk. My calves are jutting out like perfect diamonds. My hands are running around my body. I finally find my nips and twist. “HOLY FUCK!” My semi hard cock lunges forward snapping the band off my briefs. Holy shit how big is my cock now. Its at least 9 inches and fuck its thick. I feel a hand on my now shelf like ass I try to see who it is in the mirror but I’m so massive I’m blocking them. A finger slips up into my hole. I drop to my knees and moan trying to hold my orgasm in. I feel the finger slide in deeper hitting my prostate and then I hear a deep voice. “cum.” And like that James Vesuvius came. All over Gabe, who seems to be relishing every moment, all over the mats, all over the mirror. I feel the finger slide out of me and I collapse on the ground. My body pulsing. I hear Thomas’ voice now. “James come here.” “Yes Thomas?” “get on the scale.” “Yes Thomas.” I step on the scale. I add 220 and the scale is too light. I had 5 lbs nothing. 10 lbs. nothing. 20lbs nothing. 30 lbs and finally the weight settles at 250. “Very good James.” “yes sir.” Wait why am I calling Thomas Sir “30lbs. in one day. Lets see if we can make it 50 tomorrow. Thomas slaps my ass one two and then I feel a stab I try to see what is going on but I a sudden overwhelming feeling of orgasmic euphoria comes over me. “How big do you want to get boy?” Thomas says to me. I stand up straight pecs bulging out. “there’s no limit sir.” I scream out like I’m in the military answering my sergeant “correct.” Thomas grins deliciously.
  15. MuscleNexusTF

    Quarantined - Chap 1

    Hey guys! Here's the first chapter of a custom story I'm working on for a guy with lots of awesome ideas. It's something a bit different than what I normally do so hope you enjoy! Things are going to get crazy in the coming chapters... Originally posted on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/quarantined-chap-20683663 Day 1 Devon yawned. Almost midnight and he hadn’t accomplished anything other than watching the news all night. It wasn’t even as if anything interesting was going on, he just wanted something on and then news was consistent enough where he didn’t feel the need to change the channel every five minutes. He took a long sip of beer. It was his third bottle, but he didn’t even feel a buzz. This depiction of Devon might lead someone to think he was depressed, or loney, but really he was just plain bored. His boyfriend was deployed overseas and Devon was out of money, so pizza, beer, and news at home was the most fun he was probably going to have all weekend. From the corner of his eye he saw his phone’s screen light up. A little bubble appeared that just said Scott, his boyfriend of three and a half years. Devon couldn’t help but smile a little. He unlocked the phone and the message from his boyfriend in a far away place appeared. His smile widened. Hey babe. Some of the men down here in Madagascar have gotten sick. Army’s not saying what it is. Don’t think they now. They’re bringing us home early just in case. Can you pick me up from the airport tomorrow at 9? Devon did a silent fist bump to the air, grinning ear to ear. YES! He wrote back, unable to hide his excitment. Scott replied with a heart and kissing emoji and ‘goodnight, see you soon.’ Devon clutched his phone to his chest and breathed in a deep satisfying breath. Tomorrow he would be reunited with the love of his life. Day 2 “Scott!” Devon spotted his big man in uniform and trotted over to him. “Hey Dev,” Scott replied quietly before giving his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. “Well I hope you can give me more than that, c’mon big guy give me a real cass” Devon said with a touch more sass than he intended. Scott smirked at him, but his eyes remained serious. Dark rings around them betrayed long sleepless nights overseas. “Later. You’re parked outside?” “Yeah, in the usual spot.” Devon went to pick up his boyfriend’s oversized luggage, but his struggle against the unusual weight of the bag was evident and Scott plucked it out of his grip easily. Devon couldn’t help notice thick muscle bulging against his boyfriend’s army uniform. Scott was always big, but was he always that big?! “Here, let me,” he grunted in a tone a little less friendly than Devon would’ve liked. The couple walked to the car in relative silence. Devons initial questions were deflected so he stopped asking assuming that his partner was over-exhausted by his deployment and the flight home. When they were both in the car and miles away from the airport Devon spoke up. “You’re awfully quiet.” He glanced sideways at his military man looking for a reaction and finding none. “Everything okay.” “Fine.” Devon shrugged, letting only a hint of irritation cross his face. He scowled at the road for a beat until an idea crossed his mind. He sharply turned and exited off the highway. The big army man startled in his seat. “What the fuck. Where are you going?” “C’mon, you must be hungry. We’re going to that diner on Main.” “I’m not hungry, let’s just go home!” Devon looked sideways at his boyfriend with suspicion. Was that panic he detected in his baritone voice. Scott was usually the calm and collected one of the duo, it was unusual to see him riled up. “Well I am. Come on, it’ll be nice.” He turned into the Dixie Cow Diner’s parking lot and put the car into park. Before Scott could utter another objection Devon was out of the car and on his way into the small but busy restaurant. With a nervous sigh Scott followed. “Table for two please,” Devon declared cheerfully to a frazzled-lookking waitress. “Sure thing love.” She glanced up to see a Scott creep in gingerly. “Military eats free,” she droned before adding “thanks for your service.” She picked up two menus and brought the couple to a window seat. “How’s this hun?” “Great, thank you.” Devon took a seat and started thumbing through the menu. He glanced up to see Scott standing awkwardly, beads of sweat forming on the sides of his face. “Come on you lug, take a seat.” Scott slid himself into the booth, but didn’t speak. “Jeeze, it’s not that hot in here, you sure you’re feeling okay?” Devon asked the big man. This finally seemed to grab his attention and he looked across the table with pleading eyes. “No!” Scott declared before hushing his voice to a whisper. “No, everything is not okay.” Before Devon could ask what the hell his boyfriend meant, he told him. “I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be back in Madagascar still in Quarantine, with the rest of my unit.” Devon blinked at the big man, unsure of how to process what he just heard. He simply said “is that why you wouldn’t kiss me?” “Yes.” “Why? What is it? Is it contagious? Do you have it?!” “I don’t know.” Scott buried his face into his hands and spoke through his fingers. “I don’t think I have it. I don’t have any of the effects….” He glanced up at Devon. “That’s how I got out. I found a uniform from another unit, one that didn’t do that expedition. And I looked healthy so…. I got out.” Devon let out a breathy sigh and sat back somewhat relieved. “Well then we have nothing to worry about.” He winked and let a small smile reassure his boyfriend. But neither man was reassured. “What can I get you boys?” The waitress appeared with notepad in hand. “I’ll have the eggs benny with a coffee please,” Devon handed his menu to the waitress and sat back. “All right, all right. Good choice. And for you?” She looked at Scott. “I’ll have the same,” he mumbled. “Great! I’ll just grab that menu from you.” She reached in front of scott and lifted the menu off the sticky table sending a wave of thick perfume into the big man’s face. HIs nose twitched and his eyes bulged. Before he could stop himself or deflect it he sneezed on the waitresses outstretched hand and menu. “Excuse me,” Scott muttered to her sheepishly. “Sorry about that.” She gave him a strained smile and turned on her heel. The rest of their stay proceeded uneventfully. They chewed their food silently. Making small talk here and there. Devon didn’t want to push his boyfriend on the elephant in the room quite yet, he’d save that for home. He did begin to worry though as he noticed subtle changes in his boyfriend. He was breathing heavier than usual and sweating like he had just finished a workout. Also-and Devon almost refused to admit this to himself as it was surely impossible-he thought Scott had gotten even bigger since sitting down in the booth across from him. His muscles pushed at the camo fabric of his uniform. The whole sight made Devon chew his lip with lust as he thought of tearing that uniform off his beefy boyfriend and seeing those muscles for himself. On their way home Devon decided he couldn’t wait any longer to bring up what hed’ noticed in the restaurant. “Scott. Have you noticed anything… Different? Like with your body… Getting bigger maybe?” Scott visibly stiffened. “What do you mean?” Devon registered the panic in his boyfriend’s voice again and saw him pulling at his collar as if to loosen it. “I don’t think I’m bigger. If anything I lost weight.” Devon drove in silence. He let the subject drop but mulled over it ferociously in his head. Scott was lying! He could always tell, and this time it was more obvious than ever. “Here we are big guy.” Devon announced as he swung into their driveway. He couldn’t help but notice Scott cringe at the last two words. He turned the key and silenced the engine. “Welcome home!” He turned to face his boyfriend and his smile dropped. “Scott??” Scott was matted in sweat and panting like an animal. Thick corded veins ran up his neck which was noticeably thicker. Devon mistakenly thought it might be inflamed and began to panic. “Jesus, you don’t look too good. Fuck. Maybe you do have that thing. You get into the house and I’ll call a doctor.” “No!” Scott panted, turning groggily to his boyfriend. “No doctor.” “But!” Devon began to protest when Scott grabbed his arm firmly. “No.” They stared into each other’s eyes. Devon’s were clear and exuding concerning. Scott’s were unfocused, bloodshot, and feral looking. Devon shook his head, not believing he was giving in. “Fine, but if you get any worse I’m taking you in.” Scott accepted this and clambered out of the car. “I nap,” was all he said before heading into the house, leaving Devon to bring in his bags. “Fair enough” the small man grunted to himself as he slung heavy camo-printed bags onto his shoulders. Upstairs Scott stared at his reflection in their bedroom mirror. His thoughts came slow and muddled. He knew he was infected. Why had he sneezed on the waitresses hand? He knew it was on purpose. He felt a strange desire deep inside him to spread the infection. He tried to suppress it, which only made it stronger. A crooked smile appeared on his face. He looked down at his body. His previously athletic build was replaced with a hard, vascular, bodybuilder’s build. His muscles bulged obscenely, dusted with a thick coat of hair. Barely contained in his standard issue military briefs his mutated cock strained to break free. Fattened to monstrous proportions by the infection it begged to release the infection into Scott’s unwitting boyfriend. “No,” Scott growled under his breath. He tried to suppress the urge… The urge to make his mate like him. He sat on the bed for a second before swinging his giant muscled feet onto and then into the covers. Devon slammed the trunk hatch down and locked the car. “There. Done.” He said to himself, satisfied. He looked up at the bedroom window he shared with Scott with a furrowed brow. “Better check on the big lug,” he thought to himself before making his way back into the house. Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed and want to be notified when I post future chapters or other stories please consider supporting my work on Patreon! It would mean the world to this broke-ass bodybuilder with a penchant for writing muscle growth stories ? ---> https://www.patreon.com/MuscleNexus <---
  16. laboriens

    m/m Celebrity growth

    hello, I start a new story, you incarnate me who meets the celebrities (star, actor film, wrestler etc), he may have violence, your opinion allows me to know if the story pleases you main character me: quantin 30 years you were a fan of muscular man with fetish but too shy to approach, you managed to be hired as a celebrity helper so your role and help celebrities like to bring them to drink and ate my too to help them to get dressed (so you can see them all naked) and to perform all the tasks that he asks. you have just received the power to change the size and musculature to celebrities, but it has a side effect is that celebrities become tyrants mostly on you and become uncontrollable so that their change may change as you did not want and he has not written how long this change lasts. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________ chapter 1: the meeting of the first star this was your first day of work and you're already meeting a star that you love because it was tom welling, you'll meet him after shooting smallville he just finished a fight so he was sweaty and your first spot was to help him removed all those dirty clothes. You follow all the shows where Tom appears, because you love him so that he is the first person you have to help was great and you can even touch him and even as he looks not sniff these clothes, you arrive in a huge room then you come face to face with your idol tom said "hello, what can I do for you, I think you want an autograph" a little red you say "Hello, I'm your new celebrity help, have my request to come help you take off your outfit to bring them to the cleaning my also to help you before bringing them "tom looks at you from top to bottom then says" okay go in between, in the more you fall well my clothes feel too bad since I sweat too much and bother me "and you start to help him undress, you could feel his warmth as a man, tom turns around for you to help him get off her pants and you could see her boxers who molds a nice ass tonic my after you were existed because he asks you to remove his underpants too and you see his beautiful tonic ass naked then he turns around and you were in shock you could not remove your eyes from his beautiful body and you see a moment what wakes you up his penis that was huge then tom said "you can wait for me there I'm going to take a shower" while he was showering you could not wait and you take his underpants and starts sniffing you do the same with the other clothes and you sniff even where he had those muscles you were so ecstatic that you do not notice that you activated your power, you hear a big boom and tom shout what makes you see what happens, tom was sitting on the floor he just fell, because he was not even going back in the shower but in front of you you see huge and very big tom, then tom looks at you with a demonic look because tom see that he can not enter the shower.
  17. SeaMusc

    m/m SYNERGY: 30:APRIL:2019

    Synergy Sometimes you just know. It feels so deep and integral that is seems to come from the deepest part of you. You can feel it in your bones, radiating out to the skin. It is a truth that cannot be explained away. I felt this the first time I saw Ian. I was too young to know what it was at the time, but I knew he was special to me. I knew that he held in his equally small hands the key to happiness—or what I believed happiness to be at the time. Everyone loved Ian. He was handsome and athletic and social. He was friendly and kind. One night, when we were in fifth grade, I spend the night at Ian’s house. He hadn’t asked me to spend the night before, but we had become better friends. I remember walking downstairs to the basement and getting sleeping bags out, lying next to him, feeling his warmth just inches away. I don’t know why I did it, but I looked over to him in the dark. “Hey Ian…We should pretend that I am Sarah. You like Sarah, right?” “What do you mean, ‘pretend you are Sarah?’ That’s silly, Brad.” “I mean, I can lay on top of you and we can kiss. You can practice on me. You want to kiss her. You said so earlier.” “OK, but we can’t tell anyone about it.” That was the first time I knew that something was “wrong” about the way I felt. I crawled on top of Ian’s body, opened my mouth, and kissed him deeply, albeit clumsily. He was my first kiss. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I felt so attached to him. We never spoke of that moment the next day, or the day after, or the day after that. We continued to become closer and closer. He was everything to me, even at that age. I felt something deep and powerful inside my young mind and body. Ian did something for me that no one else had ever done…He made me feel beautiful and handsome. He made me feel popular. I was still the new kid but when Ian and I started hanging out, everyone accepted me. He made me feel wanted. He was amazing, even at that age. Weeks later, my parents sat us down for a family meeting. We moved around a lot when I was young. From what I had heard during closed-door phone calls, my dad was getting a job, hours away from Spokane where we lived at the time. I wasn’t sure at that moment, but when my parent’s called a family meeting, I knew it was time to move again. I was heartbroken. Not only because I now had some great friends, but because I couldn’t imagine leaving Ian. We played soccer together. We rode our bikes around the neighborhood together. We went swimming together. He was all I thought about and everything I wanted. I couldn’t bear to think about moving away from him. He was my first kiss. He was also my first heartbreak, although looking back, I don’t think that he knew it. He didn’t have the awareness that I did at that age. He didn’t know how I felt, not really. The day we moved, I remember grey skies and a light rain. The U-Haul truck waited in the driveway. Ian had promised me he would come and say goodbye but we were ready to leave and he hadn’t come to the house yet. I felt like my heart would break right there in the driveway. I would never see him again. Something inside of me cried out for him. I felt like I was leaving a part of myself behind—God, if I could only just say goodbye. The grass was still brown from a cold winter with plenty of snow. Spring’s warmth had not touched down yet and from the grey sky, it would remain that way for a while. I remember looking at the silent, sleeping, brown-matted grass and thinking that it looked like how I felt—sickly, on the brink of life, hungry for a better day, desiring of warmth, cognizant of a great change—afraid. I tried to postpone our departure. I said I had to use the restroom. I said I needed to spend a minute in my room. I wanted to walk around the backyard again—the backyard where Ian and I had spent so many hours talking and playing—and so many nights sleeping under the stars in our sleeping bags. I loved him and I couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t see him again. As my mom locked the front door to the split-entry house and we walked outside toward my waiting father and the truck full of our belongings, I saw a quick flash of shadow coming around the corner of the street. It was Ian. His legs were pumping on the peddles of his BMX bike and he was sweating and breathless—I could tell—and that was saying something. He was such a great athlete, even at that age. He must have been riding as fast as he could for the several blocks that separated our houses. I breathed a sigh of relief—and then sorrow crashed into me. Suddenly, I didn’t know if it was the best thing for him to have come. It would only make things harder. “Brad, here comes Ian! I know you wanted to say goodbye to him. I need to go talk to your dad but I’ll be in the car in a minute. We need to leave in a couple of minutes, so say goodbye. Do you want to ride with your father or do you want to come behind in the car with me?” I couldn’t even think about what my mom was saying. Did I want to ride in the truck or the car? I didn’t care. Only Ian mattered. When I saw him lay his bike down on the grass and walk quickly toward me, I could only think of him. My mom went to talk to my dad. Ian grabbed my hand and led me around to the back of the truck. “Sorry. I was grocery shopping with my mom and we were late. I tried to make her get home faster.” He was still out of breath. He wore the scent of his home. I could smell it. It smelled like Ian. I can still remember that smell—like summery detergent, fabric softener, and something spicy…like cloves and baked apples. His smell was warm and clean. Writing this down, I can still smell it years later. He leaned over to me quickly and gave me a kiss on the lips. I knew he was taking a risk…he had told me months ago that we were never supposed to talk about that night…so in that moment, I knew he felt something for me as well. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t respond for a moment. “I’ll miss you, Ian.” A tear edged its way out of the corner of my eye and slowly fell down my cheek. “Don’t cry. I’ll always be with you. I promise.” Somehow, I knew he was telling the truth. I felt something inside of me leap out for him, but the emotion that the empty space was replaced by was loneliness and sadness. He was right in front of me, but I still felt destroyed because I understood that we were going to be apart forever. “Goodbye, Brad. We should write to each other.” His voice cracked. We were so young and innocent. Pure. We loved each other and it was that simple. We weren’t old enough to be jaded by life. We weren’t old enough to be filled with trepidation or caution because of poor decisions. We were just friends—friends who loved each other deeply. “Brad! We need to go. Its already an hour after when we wanted to leave. Come and get in the car,” I heard my mom bellow. “See you, Ian.” “Write to me when you get to your new house.” I jumped in the car and looked out the window. It was slightly fogged from the weather. It began to rain harder. The last thing I remember about that day was Ian standing on our lawn, his BMX bicycle tipped over next to him, waving as we drove away. ================================================================================== The rest of my elementary school life was a nightmare. I was thin, short, and out of shape. I had thick glasses and was “smart” so the cool kids didn’t want to really get to know me. I thought of Ian often when no one would play with me. Eventually, the most popular kid on our sixth-grade class befriended me. He was tall and blonde. His father was a doctor and they lived in a beautiful house on the crest of a hill overlooking the town. I was glad he became my friend. Everyone seemed to like me after he started talking to me. I didn’t feel the same way about him as I did about Ian, but he was nice and I made some friends because of him. Ian and I wrote to each other a few times. Eventually, we stopped. I don’t know who sent the last letter, or who didn’t respond, but I do remember feeling some blunted and distant sorrow about that loss. But one thing I knew—that beautiful handsome boy would ALWAYS be my first kiss. And I would ALWAYS be his. That gave me some satisfaction. ================================================================================== Junior high started the next year. It was a huge transition. The elementary schools combined and so there were hundreds of new kids. Social life was turned on its head. I went to sit with my friends from elementary school at lunch. The popular kids had somehow found each other automatically. The cool kids I had become friends with in my last year of elementary school had gravitated toward a group of other good-looking kids. I approached John, the coolest guy in my class last year who had befriended me. I had never seen the girl sitting next to him, nor can I remember what she looked like or who she was. Sometimes it is easiest to block things out that are painful. “Hey John. Is this where we are sitting?” I asked when I walked up to the long cafeteria table. John didn’t look at me, not really. He just kept talking to the people around him. The little shrew-faced girl sitting next to him looked up at me standing next to them as they were seated. With a smug look she gave me a once over, looking at my unremarkable face, my thick glasses, beginnings of acne, and unremarkable body. I was short, even for that age. I wasn’t dressed like most of the cool kids. My parents didn’t have much money although we never lacked anything we really needed. We just couldn’t afford the name brands and current styles that the cool kids could. After inspecting me carefully, the girl looked me straight in the eye and proclaimed me unworthy. “This table is for the popular kids. Go somewhere else.” In that instant, something inside of me changed, and not for the better. I felt alone. I felt like I had lost something of great value – I had lost my friends from last year. From that moment on, when the lunch bell rang, I either sat in the hallway waiting for the lunch period to be over and not eating anything, or if I was especially hungry that day, I would take my brown bag lunch, walk into the boys’ restroom, close the door to a stall, sit on a lidded toilet, and eat my lunch there. It was disgusting, I know, but I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere. I knew everyone and they knew me, but I didn’t belong to any group or have any real friends. It was terrible. My parents didn’t know of my isolation. No one really knew. I faked it well. But, it was destroying my self-confidence and self worth. One morning, I woke up and felt sore from head to toe. It wasn’t the soreness that comes from a solid run or a little overexertion. It was the kind of soreness that made me feel like my body was growing into the mattress. I could barely move. I had never felt like that before. It was painful but it also felt supremely…good. It was a foreign feeling. I only wanted to lay in bed. I wracked my mind trying to think about what could have made me feel that way. I didn’t play sports and I hadn’t had gym class the day before. Every muscle in my body felt like it had been put through some sort of top-level military exercise. I couldn’t explain it, so I didn’t try. When I got to school, I moved slowly through the hall. Picking up my legs was a struggle. God, so much pain was wracking my body. The thought of sitting in a chair for first period was the only thing that kept me going. I shuffled through the hall. I heard some laughter, most likely because there was wincing on my face. I tried to blend in to the surroundings. It is how I learned to survive; however, the dull pain radiating from my muscles forced a certain scowl to be permanently etched onto my face. Fuck. I was almost to my first course of the day. I turned around the corner in the wide hallway hugging the wall and leaning a bit on it for support. Just then, John, my previous friend from elementary school ran into me, head-on. “Sorry, Brad.” He looked at me with some degree of pity. I think he knew he had been an ass hole and was feeling sorry about the social pariah that I had become. He was partially responsible for that and I know he knew it to some degree. At that moment though, all I could think about was the sharp pain that I felt as his body collided with mine. The rest of junior high was spent cowering away from people. The days of soreness came and went for years. I couldn’t really explain them, nor could I escape them. I would often feel the same way a day or two after my gym class, but that was only once a week and my bouts of full-body soreness occurred much more frequently than that. One thing that I did excel at was music. I joined the high school jazz band when I moved up to 10th grade. I was good. I played the piano and could make the most jaded person feel alive when I sat down at the keyboard. It was a gift. Our school was known for the music program and a lot of the cool kids were in band actually. The teacher was amazing, energetic, and fun. We traveled around the state putting on concerts for communities and other schools. It was the highlight of my high school career up to that point. When I was a senior, we were invited to perform at a Washington state high school leadership camp at Central Washington University in Ellensburg. It was scheduled on the day of my 18th birthday. CWU wasn’t too far away, but it was a reason to be gone from high school and my tormented existence there for a day so I was very excited. I woke up on the morning before we left, more sore and exhausted than I ever had been. I was in so much pain; I almost started crying when attempting to get out of bed. I didn’t want to eat as was typical when I felt this way. I just wanted to lay in bed, motionless, without apology. My parents had been becoming increasingly worried. Something that they thought was probably just growing pains had now been occurring for the better part of 6 years…and I hadn’t been growing much. I was around 5’4” and thin. Most of the latter part of that equation was because of my lack of desire to eat when I felt the soreness. It was becoming more and more frequent that I would have these bad days. The doctors didn’t know what was causing it and that was not for a lack of trying to figure it out. They did all sorts of tests. I was supposedly healthy outside if a bit of malnutrition. Anyway, Jazz Band was planning on going to this leadership conference the next day. I wasn’t going to miss it. It would be the best birthday present I could have--I enjoyed getting out and exploring other places. It reminded me that there was a life outside of the walls of my high school. I knew that if I could make it to graduation, things would be OK. I was thinking of going to CWU anyway, so I could check it out while I was there. I forced myself out of bed, showered, got dressed, and made it to school just on time- without eating of course. I knew I should really start eating more. The day went well for the most part. I ate in the bathroom stall again, which was becoming more and more common for me to do. I avoided talking to people and therefore, avoided being made fun of or pushed around. Fuck, I was short AND skinny. That is a troublesome combination for an 18-year-old band geek. I walked home alone. It was only a couple of blocks so there was not use in driving. I was in a good mood however. Tomorrow was another band trip and my birthday. I ate a few bites at dinner, crawled into bed, and wished for a quick sleep. The next morning, we left for Ellensburg. The air was clear and crisp as often happens in the late spring. This would be our last trip of the school year and the last trip of my high school career. We arrived at the university and started setting up in a huge ornate auditorium. Red velvet curtains crossed the stage with long braded golden ropes hanging from the corners. Huge soaring columns lined the sides of the auditorium and hundreds of soft seats curve out in dozens of rows facing the stage. It was a beautiful building. We got things prepared and just in time. The participants from other high schools around the state started filtering just as we completed our sound check. The concert began. I was brilliant as usual. But I didn’t consider myself to be anything special, regardless of the talent I obviously had. The concert ended and I was a bit sad. The one thing in my life that I cared about, the one thing I was good at, was almost over. I loved the applause of the audience. It was one good thing in my life. I made my way out of the auditorium after we were finished. I was helping the others pack up their instruments in the back alley behind the building. I felt a shock of surprise for some reason. I didn’t know why, but the air seemed to change somehow. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I got goose bumps all over my arms. “Hey. Is your name Brad?” I heard a deep powerful rumbling voice ask from a few feet behind me. It sounded like silk and thunder. I turned around and one of the most stunning men I have ever seen was staring at me with a quizzical look. He smiled and my heart exploded. He was about my age but phenomenally more muscular. He looked to be about 6’ tall, had smooth tan skin unadulterated by acne. His hair was short and with a slight curl. Damn. He was beautiful. “Ya. I’m Brad.” I didn’t know what else to say. Who the fuck was this Adonis? His tight t-shirt hugged his body and was a size too small. The fabric stretched begrudgingly over his bloated pecs, pulling tight especially across his cleavage. Two gumdrop sized nipples stuck out against a shirt that had no recourse from the power contained underneath it. The sleeves were a bit to short but that only served to accentuate the planets of delts perched above the god’s arms. Biceps dangled happily from the shoulders and were hugged on each side by a very prominent vein. His forearms looked like Popeye-come-to-life but were decorated with an intricate web of vasculature. I never thought veins to be especially attractive, but his were somehow…graceful. I couldn’t take my eyes away from his steely grey eyes. They knew something I did not. I could tell he was now smiling mischievously. I broke my gaze and looked away for a moment. I pushed the bridge of my glasses up my nose. Some of the girls were staring, slack-jawed, at the perfect specimen that was staring at me. Some of the other guys were similarly in awe. Others looked disgusted, but only out of jealousy. This was a god, and everyone knew it. “Brad! I can’t believe it is you!” The god looked like he was getting excited and was happy about something. I couldn’t think of what it could be. It made me a bit nervous—and aroused. His muscles expanded and contracted. He didn’t take his eyes off of me but had this galactic grin across his face. He took a step toward me and I just looked up, wondering who this was and what he could possibly want with me. He took another step, bent down slightly and wrapped his arms around me. “It’s Ian! From elementary school. I heard your name when they were introducing you all in there and I thought it must be you.” It was Ian. The best friend I ever had. My first kiss. His first kiss. “IAN!” I gasped. He lifted me up easily, his hands under my arms, until I was eye to eye with him. It should have felt demeaning to have someone pick me up like a small child, but it didn’t. It felt safe. “Brad, I can’t believe it man. I just can’t believe it. What are the odds of us meeting here after all this time?” I couldn’t speak. My mind was racing and my cock was beginning to respond to this beautiful man’s voice. This was my best friend. This was my best friend! Instantly, I didn’t feel alone anymore. I heard a couple of gasps from my fellow band-mates. I could tell they were stunned that I knew who this muscle stud was and that he was giving me a hug. Ian set me down on my feet again. My eyes traveled up from his pecs to his eyes. I couldn’t help but noticed, however, that his too-small shirt left an inch gap between the top of his tight jeans and the bottom hem of his t-shirt. I could make out the silky skin underneath and a very pronounced happy trail of hair running from what must be his abs down to his manhood. I was about to explode. My cock twitched in my pants. His eyes were glowing and his smile could knock satellites out of orbit if he grinned in the right direction. Fuck. He was perfect. “Ian, we have to go!” I heard a middle-aged voice call out in the distance. “We have to leave now!” “Hey Brad. We need to catch up. I should give you my number. I graduate high school next week and will have a few weeks off before I come here for football training camp this summer. I can come visit you if you want. I just can’t believe that I finally reconnected with you!” “That…That would be…great, Ian.” The god looked around for a pen or something so he could write his number down. A stunned girl (a homely overweight saxophonist) meekly handed him a pen, smiling, blushing. “Thank you,” he rumbled and smiled looking her directly in the eye. He was kind. “You are coming here next year? I am as well.” I stuttered out the information. “Ya, I am! This will be so great! Brad, you have to call me. I’ll come visit in the next few weeks. I can drive over from Spokane. It’s only a few hours. I am so happy to see you! I miss you.” There was a look of caution and care in his eyes. He almost looked sad. It looked like pity. I couldn’t speak but just nodded in agreement. He flashed a smile and winked with his left eye. “Call me, Brad… Please. We have a lot to catch up on.” Another smile flashed across his face and he turned around to walk toward his teacher. The wind had been knocked out of my sails. I could barely breath as I watched him walk away. His back would make his chest jealous. Thick pillars of muscle ran along his spine. A topographical map lay under his tight shirt. And his round tight ass… that is what my eyes focused on. Powerful, tight, hard, sexy-as-fuck. I wanted to bury my face in between those muscle cakes and feed on his undoubtedly perfect hole. I couldn’t stop staring. Just before he turned around the corner with his school group, he looked back at me, flashed that smile, and winked again. It was silent for a moment. Everyone around me was stunned. They looked at me like I was an alien, like they had just barely noticed a new life form in their midst. “You know that guy?” I heard spoken to me a dozen times in the next few minutes. I didn’t respond for a few moments. I found that collecting my thoughts in that moment was almost impossible. John, my elementary school friend who hadn’t given me the time of day for years, and the drummer of our jazz band, approached me quickly. “Who was that?” he demanded. He sounded almost—jealous. There is little I remember about what happened after that, but I stood up straighter in that moment and looked around at the faces torn between trying to catch another glimpse of Ian or watching me like some strange insect. “He is my best friend.” I said it simply. Everyone went back to work, packing up for our trip home. Every once in a while, I would see someone glance at me and just shake their head. I didn’t know if it was jealousy or incredulity…maybe it was a bit of both. Which ever it was, that moment was the best of any birthday I had ever had. The next day I woke up and was sore again. I was in pain more than I wasn’t these days. I could barely get out of bed but I had to try. Something about what happened with Ian the previous day echoed in my mind. He was the handsomest, most masculine, gorgeous man that I had ever seen…and he wanted to come visit for a few days and “catch up” on life. I pinched myself repeatedly. Holy shit. School wrapped up for the year largely without incident. I called Ian a couple of times over the course of a few weeks and we set up for him to come and visit for several days before he headed to his summer football program. I couldn’t believe that that muscle stud would be under my roof, sleeping in my room, for 3 or 4 days. I don’t know if I could control myself. Every time I thought about it, I got hard…like raging hard. My cock was becoming quite talented at producing sweet honey-like precum at even the most passing of thoughts about Ian. How would my humble cock and balls handle having that meat monster around for days on end? The day finally came. It was perfectly sunny outside and warm. Ian pulled into our driveway in a late model Jeep Wrangler. It fit his ruggedness and personality perfectly. I watched out the window as he grabbed a t-shirt from the back seat and pulled it over his bare chest. He had been shirtless and now was trying to be presentable for meeting my parents again. I wish he would have just left that god-damned shirt off and walked up to the front door in all of his magnificence. Even just looking out the window at him pulling his shirt over his head, I was ready to pump out a huge load. This could be trouble. I heard the doorbell downstairs and a shuffling from the kitchen. “Brad!!! That must be Ian!” I head my mother yell. She was going to answer the door, thankfully. I was still a bit hard from watching Ian’s bare chest pull into the drive. I wanted to suck on his nipples, chewing them, grabbing his huge hard ass, tongue his tight pink love hole. These images flashed through my mind in the course of one second. Fuck. My. Life. I heard the low rumble of Ian’s voice in the entry way and then I heard my mom start laughing. He was a charmer that is for sure. I made my way downstairs slowly…I didn’t want to cum spontaneously in my pants before I even got downstairs. “IAN! You made it.” I could hardly contain my excitement. I still couldn’t believe that this perfectly handsome muscle beast would be within arms reach of me for days on end. I was suddenly apprehensive. Would he find me watching him, lusting after him, tenting my shorts every time he looked at me. He seemed so nice, but maybe he would beat my ass if he found out. “Let’s get you settled in my room. Then we can decide what we are going to do the rest of the day, OK?” “Sure, Brad. I do need to go find a gym today so I can get a good workout in, but I saw a few coming into town. Other than that, I am completely free. I just want to be sure I stay in top shape for football camp this weekend.” I nodded in agreement. Some inner part of me wanted to be sure that Ian invited me to go workout with him, even though I hadn’t lifted a weight in my life. He grabbed his duffle bag in one arm and hoisted it onto his shoulder. “Lead the way, Brad,” he shot another smile at me with one of those devious winks. He would be trouble, I could feel it. “Straight up the stairs,” I said. He started climbing the stairs, his round hard ass-globes propelling his rippling beefy body up to my room. I was following him only a step behind. My face was only an inch away from his muscular ass globes and that tight, warm hole and I could smell his exquisite man scent reaching out to me like a mythological siren. I wanted to bury my tongue in the crevasse of his perky powerful caboose. I wanted to probe his fuck hole with my tongue until I made him scream. I couldn’t believe I was having these thoughts, but I was. It was as if he was sending me the message through his pheromones. I could smell him. I could smell his need. We reached my room, he threw his duffle bag on the ground, smiled at me, and got a dirty look on his face. Once again, he knew something I didn’t. “You mind if I change? I want to get my gym clothes on before I go find a place to workout.” “I don’t mind at all. I’ll just give you a few minutes to get ready.” I stared up at Ian, his pulsating muscles writhing under his tight clothes. “Brad, I’d prefer if you stayed.” He leveled me with another sly smile. “We can start catching up as I get ready.” He offered that last bit as insurance in case I didn’t accept the direction of his comments. How could I not. He was 6 foot and over 200 pounds of solid marble strength. I was just pushing 5’ 4” and struggled to break 110 pounds on a good day. I was pathetic comparatively. “Sure. Let’s catch up, Ian.” I sat on the edge of the bed as Ian rifled through his clothes looking for something he could wear to the gym. “Do you have any protein powder, Brad? I should probably make a shake before heading to the gym. I have some in the Jeep I can give you later in exchange.” I couldn’t stifle my laughter. “Seriously Ian. Do I look like I use protein powder? I am about as big as one of those thick thighs of yours.” Ian stopped changing and just looked at me—like he shouldn’t have asked the question. I wanted to look him in the eye, but I could only look at the beautifully tanned skin of the man before me. He had taken off all of his clothes except his briefs. I could see his bulge threatening to stretch the limits of its cage…and he wasn’t even hard. His body was so beautiful and thick. I could spend hours trying to describe it, but it would do no good. My eyes tracked down from his shoulders to his pecs. They traced his arms and switched over to his insane abs. Were abs supposed to have a netting of veins? I hadn’t ever seen that. My eyes came to rest on his waistline. His Apollo’s belt (or what I liked to call, the cum gutters) focused my eyes on the trail of hair extending from just above his navel downward where they plunged into his intensely white and tight briefs. I let out a soft moan and then… I spontaneously ejaculated. Fear coursed across my face and I felt like I was going to pass out, my body trembling from the orgasm as well as the embarrassment. My eyes started to flutter as I felt the world around me getting dark. I could tell I was going to pass out, my legs giving out underneath me. I faintly remember Ian’s beautiful muscled powerful body stepping toward me quickly with arms out. I felt them wrap around me. Then I felt myself faint. I was lying down on the bed naked. I looked over and saw Ian rifling through my dresser…shit. I had my muscle magazines in there. I mean, online pics and videos were OK, but sometimes having those pictures right in front – a magazine in one and my cock in the other – that was perfect. He grabbed a couple of items and turned around just in time to see me looking over at him. “You OK, Brad? I got you undressed and cleaned up. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want to worry your parents about you passing out since I think I know why you did.” He could see the terror in my eyes, I am sure of it. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it. It happens sometimes.” “People spontaneously dumping cum in their pants when they look at you? That happens ‘sometimes’? Fuck that man!” For some reason, it came out in an angry voice. I felt my cheeks turn red. Was I jealous that others had seen Ian, my best friend, and had instant orgasms? Fuck yes. I was a little jealous. I was jealous that others had that reaction and I was even more jealous that he was so goddamn perfect. My life had sucked beyond words since I moved away from him…I ate my lunch almost every day in the school bathroom for fuck’s sake just to survive! And here he was, a god among men, smiling and friendly, and… and fuck him! “Ya. It happens sometimes.” He looked embarrassed now and slightly ashamed, like he had done something wrong. I felt like shit. He couldn’t help how fucking gorgeous he was with his thick cords and bulges, his perfect skin that any cosmetics company would want to know the secret too, his piercing steely eyes, his perfect body hair…it wasn’t his fault and I had just blamed him and made him feel ashamed of himself. I looked away. It was my turn to feel ashamed. He walked across the room toward me with some clean shorts and a tank top in his hand. He held them out to me with a look of concern on his face. He was worried about me and he was worried that I was angry with him. “Are you OK, Brad? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have undressed you and cleaned you up. I was just trying to help.” “Please don’t apologize Ian. It’s me, not you. I guess I am just a little overwhelmed by how different our lives seem to have gotten since I moved here all those years ago.” “How so? You know you can tell me anything, Brad. Anything. You are still the best friend I have ever had.” I reached out and grabbed the clothes from his outstretched huge arm, pulled the shorts on and put on the tank top. My thinness was on display. I sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to me in a gesture to invite him to sit down next to me. He took his spot on the bed and looked at me with so much compassion and concern in his eyes. I could barely speak. I started mumbling a few times, but couldn’t get out more than a few words without stopping. I wasn’t crying, I just didn’t know where to start. No one made me feel as comfortable as Ian and I had told no one about my horrible school experiences. He put is massive ripped arm around my small narrow shoulders. “Take your time, Brad. Just take your time.” I began telling him about elementary school, about my friends there and how they abandoned me in junior high. I told him about the meanness that I encountered because of my small size. I told him about being gay. He just left his arm around my shoulders and looked at my face. I couldn’t even make eye contact with him, but I knew he was paying attention to every word I was saying. About halfway through my story, he pulled me in tighter, right into the space between his bicep and his overdeveloped chest. I felt safe, finally. Eventually, I told him about how I thought I must be sick with some weird disease. I would have almost debilitating muscle soreness and no one knew why. He just listened and didn’t say a word for over an hour, all the while holding me in the muscled pocket of his hard armpit. At the end of the story, he gave me a squeeze. “So you see, our lives couldn’t be more different. If you want to leave after hearing about all of that, you can. It would be harder if you stayed and were weird about it.” “Nothing you have said makes me feel ‘weird’, Brad. Some things in our lives are maybe more similar than you would think.” That’s all he said at the moment so I left it at that. If he wanted to share some of his secrets with me, he would do so in his own time. I respected that. It just felt so good to have my best friend back. “You want to come to the gym with me? We could start you on a program to put some size on you, if you want.” “Ummmmm…maybe. I’ll go with you and see how I feel. It’s a bit intimidating--the gym.” We walked out of the room, down the stairs, and out to the Jeep. What a mismatched pair we were. But it didn’t matter. Arriving at one of the local muscle gyms, we walked in and were greeted at the front desk by fucking John. I didn’t know he worked there. Shit. “Hey, man. Could we get two visitor’s passes for the day? My buddy and I would like to get a workout in this afternoon.” John looked me directly in the eye. I couldn’t figure out what the look on his face meant, but it wasn’t friendly. “Sure. Just sign in here. It’s $5 for a visitor’s pass, but I’ll waive it for you,” John said looking at Ian. Ian signed his name and moved out of the way so I could sign in as well. I wrote down my name on the ledger. “That’ll be $5 for a visitor’s pass.” He looked at me with a smugness I was surprised at. I took out my wallet, embarrassed that Ian was getting a free pass and I had to pay. My face flushed red and I went into my billfold to grab the cash. Ian had been looking into the weight room and hadn’t seen the interaction between John and myself. He glanced back just as I was about to hand John my money. “Hey! Why are you making him pay?” There was a certain tone in Ian’s voice that made me believe that he was more than a little annoyed. “You didn’t make me pay. Why are you making him?” “Its OK, Ian,” I said quietly. “No, it isn’t. Fuck that. Why are you making him pay?” He reached into his own wallet and handed John a $10 bill. “That’s for both of us, asshole.” He put the money on the counter, his eyes boring into John’s. I was shell-shocked. Ian had just burned the most popular guy in our high school class. All I could think was, “We aren’t in high school anymore, John. You’re in a bigger pond with much bigger fish.” I kept that comment to myself. Ian looked down at me and simply said, “Let’s go, Brad.” We walked through the weight room into the locker room. The next hour of my life was insanely intense. Ian didn’t even workout much himself. He spent the entire time helping me learn different basic lifts. He coached me on form, on beginning routines, and we talked about nutrition. His workout time had turned into my personal training session. I was terrified that the next day I wouldn’t be able to move. I voiced my concern to Ian, since I had terrible muscle pain frequently. “Maybe you will, Brad. Maybe. But maybe not. I never have been sore after I lift.” “Not once?” “Never. And it’s not for lack of trying. I have tried to workout so hard that I couldn’t feel my legs or arms when I left the gym. But the next day, nothing. Not even a little ache. So, I guess it depends on how your body will deal with the lifting.” We left the gym after downing a couple of protein shakes that Ian had brought in his gym bag. Walking past the counter, John shot me a sharp look and then went on to stare at Ian’s massive frame walking along side of me. I couldn’t blame him. The rest of the evening, we just hung out at the house catching up on life, ate dinner with my parents, and settled in for a relaxing evening. My parent’s went to bed early so Ian and I stayed in the family room watching TV. It was so nice to feel that at ease with someone. I hadn’t had that feeling since the 5th grade. Ian kept looking at me though. I could tell he wanted to say something. A certain feeling of uncomfortability began to creep into the room. I could just feel it. The TV show ended and we just sat there in the room on the couch. “Ready for bed, Ian?” “Sure. Let’s go up to your room.” He smiled at me and led the way. He knew how much I liked staring at his ass. I am sure of it. I crawled into my big bed. He started blowing up the air mattress. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He had stripped down to a pair of red tight boxer briefs that showed the separation of his beautiful ass cheeks and left little to the imagination with regard to his apparently huge cock. I felt myself getting aroused again watching him inhale deeply, shoulders rising, pecs jutting out…and then exhaling into the mouth valve on the air mattress. It was the sexiest thing I had seen—ever. So much power in that thick hard body. And it was almost naked three feet away from me. “Whoa…I think I’m going to give it a rest for a minute. I’m getting light headed.” I just smiled. He smiled back. “You know, you could just sleep in my bed. It is a king size. I don’t take up much room, obviously.” He looked at me with a certain seriousness on his face. “Not if you feel uncomfortable though,” I quickly added. I didn’t want my gigantic friend to think I was hitting on him…not yet anyway. “Um…OK. But I have to sleep in the nude. I can’t sleep if I have clothes on.” My cock shot to attention again but I don’t think Ian noticed. “That’s fine…just don’t attack me in my sleep. I know you want to!” I jested with him, trying to diffuse the sexually tense situation happening in my mind. Ian stood up straight, put his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and eased them down. I could see the elastic stretching thin as the band worked its way over his globular glutes. Fuck, they were big and round and hard. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He just stared at me. He worked his tight briefs off and down the huge quads of his and stood there in all of his 8”-soft glory. My breath caught in my throat. He just chuckled softly, reached down and grabbed the top sheet on the bed and worked his way under the covers. I could feel his heat radiating over to my much smaller, quivering body. I turned the light switch off next to the bed and the room fell into darkness. I was so tired—exhausted really. But at the same time, I didn’t want to miss out on the feeling of having this god of muscle only inches away from me…naked. NAKED. I could smell the clean scent of man rising from him. I could smell testosterone oozing from his pores. I could smell the singular scent of his clean hole calling to me. I wanted to bury my face in his ass crack and make him squeal as I rimmed him into ecstasy. I could taste him… My erection stiffened even more. I didn’t know it was possible. I let out a muffled moan and I saw his face turn toward me, only a few inches away. I reached onto the nightstand next to me and grabbed a wad of tissue paper and tried to sneak it under the covers. I was going to cum again. I felt my balls churning my seed. I thought I could cum and be quiet about it. I had the tissue paper ready to soak up my creamy emissions. Ian wasn’t asleep. I could tell by his breathing. But, I was being so careful. Maybe he didn’t know what I was doing. I could only hope. I couldn’t hold on much longer. I felt that trip switch that happens before the cum cannon begins to shoot: the point of no return. I could feel my inner parts start to pump their sticky juices in preparation for an epic explosion. I let out another stifled groan- trying to be as quiet as I could. I wrapped my hard throbbing cock in Kleenex and let myself cave into my more beastly nature. I felt my man juices rise through the canals inside of me, racing their way to freedom and into the receptiveness of my right hand. At the moment of climax, I heard a deep guttural breath come from Ian. The first volley of cum had shot out of my throbbing hot cock and I could feel the other ready for launch. Then I heard words that increased the power coursing through my body by one-hundred… “I’m gay too.” Ian had whispered the words at the moment of my orgasm. My body bucked and gyrated. I let out a growl that I was shocked could come from such a weak and thin body. Ian just chuckled and let me finish. “I just wanted you to know, and this seemed like the perfect time.” I was still reeling from the most powerful orgasm I had ever had as well as the knowledge that my fucking monster of a friend was naked, next to me, and gay himself. My head couldn’t handle it, but my body tried. My cock was drained, but it kept trying to spew more cum out. It was like dry heaves but for my cock…and it felt good. “Good night, Brad.” Ian rolled over on his side and fell into a deep sleep. His light snoring told me so. I lay there, sticky, hot, sweating…thunderstruck. I drifted off as well. I woke up early the next morning. Ian was still lying next to me, his skin touching mine lightly—our legs were touching. It felt amazing. I stretched, expecting to feel horrible pain and soreness from the intense workout the day before. I felt so energized and couldn’t even feel a slight ache. I was sure that I would be in a world of hurt. Ian stirred next to me and let out a low grumble. He sounded like a lion in pain. “Fuck, Brad. I can barely move. My whole body hurts. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” I sat up in bed and looked over at him, concerned. He looked at me as his eyes popped out of his head. “Holy shit, Brad. Look at your abs.” Go to page 5 for Part II.
  18. SeaMusc

    muscle-growth The Impossible Discovery

    The NON-Fiction part: On March 19, 2015, a group of scientists convened to urge a moratorium on the use of CRSPR technology in humans in ways that would produce heritable traits. Long-term impacts of manipulating the human genome in the way that CRSPR does has far reaching consequences. Since this moratorium was recommended the same week that I decided to write this story, I felt that it would be a very interesting (fascinating, really) way of bringing this new technology into our muscle-obsessed fictional world. If you want to read more that isn’t too technical: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/03/20/science/biologists-call-for-halt-to-gene-editing-technique-in-humans.html - especially interesting are the first and last paragraphs. http://www.nytimes.com/2014/03/04/health/a-powerful-new-way-to-edit-dna.html I have always enjoyed fantastical world of genies and strange serums that can cause growth. Those worlds have limitless ways of being expressed and have infinite avenues to pursue for those of us with fertile imaginations. This story is a little different. Before I started my own journey as a health care provider, I worked in research. Stories that have some grounding in science—and therefore are theoretically possible—make me especially interested. That is where this concept came from. The processes explained in this tale are real. CRISPR, epigenetics, and BDNF are all very real avenues of research. I am taking these processes and applying them to a potentially real-life application that we all love, and get off on…growth. If you are curious and love to geek out about science, Wikipedia is a surprisingly good source of BASIC information. Under BDNF, look for the “neurogenesis” and “cognitive function” headings especially. For Epigenetics, Wikipedia is good, and there are other sites with information. As for CRSPR, the articles linked above are fairly accurate and not too watered down. ============================================================================================= The Impossible Discovery He could feel the heat radiating from his titanic companion. He was no small man at 6 foot 7 inches, but the thing in front of him was much larger, both in height and in shear volume. Without looking up, his eyes met the other at the lower edge of the monster’s pecs if he looked straight ahead into the pulsating wall of man-beef. Its pectorals jutted straight out from the clavicles for inches before beginning to curve down. When the enormous loaves reached apogee from the thing’s body, the skin looked as if it were straining to hold the fibers together. It looked like a course cheese grater had been used under the skin to carve long fibrous strands of individual bundles that erupted explosively with every breath the massive creature took. Rivulets of sweat trickled down the steep sided canyon between the beast’s shredded meat pillows and dumped into a constant stream of warm perspiration winding over and between jutting vein riddled abdominals. His serratus muscles shot out jaggedly from where they seemed to erupt from hidden ribs that had found themselves buried under inches of thick, impenetrable meat. Drops of sweat beaded up and then fell from his nipples and the smaller one resisted latching on and sucking and gnawing on the pendulous bulbs covered with both of their juices. It took every ounce of the smaller man’s self-control to stand still. The heavenly stench of fresh sweat, salty cum, and musty testosterone filled the air around them. It didn’t matter that they were outside. The scent of sex and distilled manhood was oozing out of both of them in waves. The beast stepped back away from his smaller companion. The quads detonated into hundreds of cords that only bared slight resemblance to the anatomy of even a heavyweight bodybuilder. The shear massiveness of his legs could have produced their own gravitational field. Where the leg muscles of a well-conditioned man should have been, dozens of thick arm-sized power cylinders rippled outward as the automaton took his step backwards and away from the smaller one. Waves of striated microfibers strained against the skin and thumb sized vessels coursed just under the surface, pulsating with pure unadulterated strength and might. The monstrous mountain looked over his coffee table sized chest and into the eyes of his companion. His face was flushed and beads of sweat dotted his entire face and shaved head. Veins wandered across his temples and his tri-colored eyes were clear and bright, staring at the man in front of him. “Fuck! That was incredible.” The beast’s voice pounded against his partner. “I can’t believe you are hard again, man.” The small one looked down through his own substantial pecs. He could just see the head of his engorged cock standing straight out from his body at least 16 inches. The tip was oozing thick clear precum in a constant stream. The giant licked his lips—he knew how sweet that viscous liquid was. “I have much more to seed you with, you fucking ape. You want to GROW MORE or NOT? Now turn around and bend over!” “Yes, sir!” The giant beast’s eyes flashed with a look of complete lust and hunger for the smaller man’s cock. “I’m just getting started. By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be human anymore. I’m going to FUCK YOU HUGE!” ================================================================= Skye opened his eyes just a little bit. He felt his boyfriend’s body against his and went back to sleep. It had just been a dream, but a hot dream. He could feel his hard cock throbbing before drifting off again. Next to him, Will’s mind raced. Even lying in bed, wrapped in the warm cocoon of his boyfriend’s embrace, he could not stop thinking of the possibilities that had been shared with him earlier in the night by his brilliant man. They had been talking for hours – since about 6PM--when Skye picked him up at work. He knew that Skye had been working on something for months but with all of his powers of persuasion, could not pry the man’s tight lips free. That’s how Skye operated. He was meticulous beyond measure and more brilliant than anyone Will had ever met. Even Skye’s colleagues and superiors nodded in deference to his mega-charged mental abilities. Will had always been his one-and-only confidante and neither of them had hidden anything from each other since the night that they first met three years ago. That is, until a few months ago when Skye mentioned that he was working on a present for Will and would say nothing else until the time was right. Will had tried repeatedly to get hints out of the man, but to no avail. It had become a game between them and a fun one at that. More than once, Will cozied up to Skye on the couch, in bed, or while walking around town on the weekend and asked him,” Hey beautiful. What are you working on for me?” “You’ll see soon enough, Big Man,” was Skye’s typical response to which Will would proceed to “punish” his brilliant other half by spanking him on his muscular tight ass, or pinching his half-dollar sized nipples, or wrapping his huge meaty hand around Skye’s large responsive cock without warning. Any one of these “punishments” would no doubt start the two on some animalistic fuck session. They could barely keep their hands off each other as it was. The game just gave Will an excuse to paw at his man. It wasn’t as if Skye complained at all. He had fallen head over heels for Will the first time they talked. Like so many love stories in the gay community, theirs started one serendipitous evening at the local gym. Skye was in his last year of his MD/PhD program. Being in a program that graduated him as both a physician and a PhD prepared researcher left very little time for his extracurricular activities. He had been working on his doctoral programs for 6 years and only had one left and he couldn’t be happier. One thing that he always made time for was the gym. It was a space that he could put his headphones on and disappear. He had always wanted to be one of those huge guys that he saw throwing around weights and grunting. He wanted to be enormous, but he didn’t have the time or energy to prepare food, eat many times a day, or spend more than a short time in the gym every day. Even so, he was always secretly lusting after those men. He wanted to touch them, to sleep with them, to be part of their group; but he kept telling himself that his sacrifice would be worth it and it would give him a better future. After he was done with his program, he would be able to devote even more time and resources to his physical goals. One crisp day in the late fall, Skye parked his car at the gym, grabbed his black duffle from the back seat and opened his door. The cool sweet air hit him in the face and he breathed in deeply and smiled. Fall was his favorite time of year. The air just smelled better – sweeter somehow. He walked into the gym and said hello to the workers at the front desk. They were always so friendly to him. He knew that he was a very attractive man with a beautiful tight body so he wasn’t a stranger to turning heads. At 5 foot 8 inches, he wasn’t tall, but the 180 pounds he carried was all muscle bunched up on his arms, shoulders, pecs, and ass. He had bulges where it counted and that made him feel better about his lack of desired mass. That knowledge allowed him to walk with confidence and attract attention where he went. His hair was dark, his eyes an emerald green that often compelled people to ask if he was wearing colored contacts, but he wasn’t he would assure them. He passed the front desk and turned the sharp corner to the left to head to the locker room to change. Coming around the corner, he waived to one of the muscle-bound men next to a squat rack, Jason. The two had become friends, and Skye had fucked the man on more than one occasion. Jason had been the only one at the gym he had messed around with. Just as he put his hand down from his wave, he turned toward the locker room door and ran straight into a hard warm wall. The man before him grabbed him firmly by the upper arms to prevent him from falling, looked down and simply said, “Excuse me,” while smiling like the Cheshire Cat. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going. I…uh…saw a friend over there. Sorry again,” Skye blathered. Looking up at the taller, larger man, he was immediately overcome with lust. “Damn, man. You are cute! I think I’ve seen you around here before.” Will stuck his large meaty hand out to shake Skye’s. “I’m Will. It’s ok, by the way. I can handle someone walking into this wall of muscle.” He chuckled to himself all the while looking at Skye’s face. The smaller guy couldn’t take his eyes off of Will’s mammoth chest. He towered over Skye at 6’ 3” and weighed at least 230 pounds, maybe more. He was solid and built like a side of beef. A thin layer of fat covered his muscle gut abs, but he looked powerful, like a bull after a good year on heavy feeding. “Hey Will. Yes, I’ve seen you around. You are hard to miss.” Skye couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face. Will wasn’t the largest guy at the gym, but he was handsome and kept his head shaved making him look like a young version of Mr. Clean. He had checked the guy out many times, but he never though that Will noticed. “I’m going to go change, but I’m sure I’ll see you out here in a bit.” Will still hadn’t let go of his hand. All Skye could think about was the size of the guy’s mitts. He had huge hands—like trying to shake a Christmas ham. The skin underneath his knuckles was rough from countless hours with weight bars. He had put time in to get to his size. “Ok, I’ll see you soon, man.” Will just smiled, like he knew something that his new friend didn’t. A few minutes later, Skye walked out of the locker room to start his workout. Will was just waiting, leaning against the wall. “Hey Skye. I am actually done with my workout, but I wanted to know if you would like to meet me here tomorrow and grab some dinner afterward.” The larger man looked timidly at Skye and held his breath. Skye could tell that Will wasn’t used to being so vulnerable and nervous. “Oh…” His face flushed red. “I am so sorry. I can’t tomorrow. I’m leaving for a conference in the afternoon and I wont be back for a few days.” Will looked down at his feet like a reprimanded schoolboy. “Ummm…OK. Well, I’ll see you around I’m sure.” It was Will’s turn to blush and he felt himself wanting to just disappear. He thought for sure Skye had been interested. “I can’t tomorrow, but do you have plans later? Like…in a bit after I workout here? I would love to have dinner with you tonight.” Skye saw the defeated look on the other man’s face change to positive radiance. “I’ll be back to get you in two hours. Is that ok?” “That’s perfect, Will. I’ll be waiting.” A couple of hours later, Will pulled to the front of the gym. Skye had showered and was waiting just inside of the doors. The bigger man jumped out of his car and went to open the passenger door for Skye. “Who said chivalry is dead,” Skye quietly uttered and smiled up at Will. On the way to the restaurant, Skye kept looking over at Will’s face. His eyes were an arresting combination of blue and green with shocks of silver grey around the edge. His eyes were like nothing Skye had ever seen…and he always looked into a man’s eyes. They were one of his favorite parts. In Will’s eyes, he saw determination and strength mingled with desire and passion. He then looked down a bit and onto the fucking battlefield sized pecs that nestled below the bull neck that Will commanded. Will was barrel-chested and from the way he moved, puffing his beefy mounds out, Skye knew he was proud of his pecs. They snuggled into his shirt like a couple of lambs looking for their mother’s teats, except instead of being soft and gentle, the things looked like they could demolish cinder blocks if confronted by them. And crowning each one, Skye could see the plump bud of Will’s nipples. They were pushed out toward the outside third of Will’s meat pillows and faced slightly downward. Skye had an urge within him to reach out and give one a squeeze, but he thought better of it. Will’s shoulders arced out away from well-worked traps and his hard bulbous biceps pressed against his short sleeve shirt leaving little to the imagination. Skye noticed a thick healthy vein emerging from the shirtsleeve and descending down the swollen bicep muscle. When it hit Will’s forearm, the vein shattered into an immense network of smaller tributaries running just under the surface of Will’s thin skin and ended as they fed into his fingers. He then let his eyes lower more and saw that the tight shirt that Will had picked out emphasized the beginnings of a small muscle gut. He could slightly make out the outline of Will’s abdominals (he wasn’t completely shredded), but they were pushed out just enough to make it look like he had eaten a large meal. “FUCK!” Skye thought to himself. He loved big pecs and he loved muscle guts. His breaths became shallower and he felt himself getting hard. He slid his gaze quickly to Will’s legs. They had power in them. He could see that Will’s pants were maybe one size too small--on purpose--and he didn’t mind. He could see the large thigh muscles pressing against his well-faded and comfortable jeans and the large mounds of meat extending past the knee in large teardrop shaped nobs. The man had legs! The tightness of the jeans did nothing to hide the enormous package that Will was wielding. His crotch held a bulge that looked like he was attempting to smuggle some sort of large citrus fruit in his pants. It was impressive. “Oh my god,” Skye whispered under his breath. His mouth was slightly open, and then he saw Will’s body shake a little. “Hey there, Skye….Earth to Skye…” He lifted his eyes from Will’s cock and balls and Will was staring his directly in the eyes…chuckling softly to himself. “I think you are hot too…seriously, I have been checking you out for months. I never thought I would work up enough nerve to ask you out though, until today,” Will casually said. “Me? You were nervous to ask me out?” “Of course! You are so handsome. You have the most amazing tight body. All the guys think so. The big muscle guys at the gym are always talking about wanting to get you into bed but as far as I know, only that giant, Jason, has done it…so, I never thought you’d say yes. I was so nervous to ask you out!” “Well, I’m glad you did, Will. I’m glad you did.” Skye reached over and placed his left hand on Will’s thigh, just above his knee. He swore that he saw Will’s cock jump an inch. Later that evening and after dinner, they sat in the quiet low lit restaurant and just talked. They talked about dreams and fears, of love and heartbreak, and of how much they were enjoying themselves. “Will, tell me a little about you growing up. What makes you tick?” Skye realized that they had discussed many things, but not their pasts and he was curious. “Well, I was raised in this little town far away from the lights of a big city like this. I was obsessed from a young age with getting big. See, my parents are kind of short.” He let lose a rumbling chuckle again. “My dad is about 5 foot 6, I think. I got fucked…sorry…um, I got the short end of the stick in the genetics department…at least for what I wanted. I never thought I would get taller than my dad, but I wanted it so bad. I would lay awake at night willing myself to get taller. I would think about it all the time, even when I was small. I knew that size was power, and I wanted to have that. It consumed me…it still does, to be honest.” “So you are a size and strength man? I think I may be disappointing to you then. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not one of the huge guys, unfortunately.” Skye suddenly felt self-conscious. “Well, I think that big strong guys are amazing, but that’s not necessarily what I am looking for in someone else…for me, I want to get big. Being strong is a perk, but fuck!!!...I mean…um, sorry, I swear a lot and I’m trying to be on my best behavior. I want to impress you.” Will blushed again. He wasn’t used to letting someone have this kind of effect on him. “I am an alpha, damn it! I don’t apologize for shit!” he thought to himself. But he knew in this moment, where he was now, and with this person, he wasn’t the alpha…not tonight. He wanted to impress this handsome man sitting across from him. “Will, feel free to swear man. Fuck. Shit. Ass. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! See, its OK…just tell me about your desire to be big. When did that start?” A distinct tone of pleading came through as Skye questioned his date. The big guy just looked at his date and smiled. He laughed again. This guy was full of surprises. It sounded like he had found a muscle and size whore…and now he had been given permission to say “Fuck” and not feel badly about it. He was going to be ok, he reassured himself. “I guess it started one winter. I remember it being so cold. Everything was frozen and there was snow on the ground. It must have been January or February and I was about 8 years old. My dad worked out a few nights a week at the local YMCA and it was his “alone” time.” Will shot Skye a look, like he was about to reveal some terrible secret and when he spoke, his voice was quieter. “I went along with him one evening. I can still remember the smell of the place. Sweat, iron, wood, the musty smell of communal showers, and…the smell of men. If you’ve ever been in an old-school gym, you know what I am talking about. Sweat, testosterone, and iron…fuckin’ no smell like it in the world, man.” Will was growing a chubby just thinking about that place years ago. Skye was looking intently into his date’s eyes. He nodded. He had been in those kind of places where the men thrust weight around in an environment that seemed more like a gorilla cage than the slick hypoallergenic gyms so popular these days…his cock twitched. The thought of that smell made him instantly horny too. “So, I went that evening and saw these men. They were big everywhere. Much taller than my dad, much thicker, huge arms, huge pecs, huge legs…and with thick beards. They looked like man mountains. They groaned and moaned and yelled as they pushed around the weights. They were so powerful, and so big….Sooooo big.” Will’s voice trailed off to a whisper. Skye kept getting harder and harder. The tone of Will’s voice was full of eroticism. It was the voice of pure lust. He looked over at Will and the larger man was adjusting his crotch a bit. Skye knew that Will had an enormous raging erection. He could see it on his face and more so, he thought he could smell it on some level. He continued. “I felt something that I had never felt before. The feeling started in the pit of my stomach and worked its way down to my balls and worked its way up to my throat. I remember feeling my heart pound and my chest get tight. I remember my mouth getting dry and my throat closing up.” He paused to slow down his breathing. “ I wanted to be one of those huge guys. I wanted to carry myself that way and be positively enormous.” He paused again for several seconds, not looking at Skye. It was obvious that the story had increased the sexual tension between the two. Then, he looked Skye directly in the eyes and held his gaze for several seconds as if he didn’t know how to proceed. “I wanted to be much bigger and more powerful than they were. I wanted to dwarf them…and I still want it.” He stopped at that and waited for Skye to say something. After a long silence, Skye reached across the small table and took one of Will’s big rough hands. “You got so much bigger than you thought was possible. Will, you are well over 6 feet tall and you are built like a brick house, man. You did it against all genetic odds.” “I know. I think I just forced myself to keep growing and getting bigger. I mean, I put in countless hours in the gym and I was sure to get the best possible nutrition to improve my chances of growing, but I guess when I stopped getting taller a few years ago, I felt that I had still been short changed. I wanted so much more…I still want so much more.” There was a pleading tone to his voice as he uttered the last sentence. The heartbreak of a lost dream emerged and combined with the sexual tension between the two. It was a strange feeling. “Honestly, Will, I understand. I want to be huge too. Maybe not to the same scale as you, but I have been so devoted to my life and profession that I haven’t been able to sacrifice to get there. Someday, I want to be built like you…even more muscular…um, not that you aren’t. I just want to be ripped and huge. Like I said, I understand. “ “Well, that’s refreshing.” Will took his other hand and placed it on the hand that Skye was holding. “That’s not all, Will.” It was Skye’s turn to pause and look uncertain. He proceeded with caution, “I want to be huge and ripped, yes. But I want my man—whomever that is—to be bigger. Much bigger. I want to feel safe and protected, Will. I want to feel that my man is invincible and would level mountains if I asked him to. I want to be able to curl up on his body like a newborn on his father’s chest. I guess, if we’re fantasizing about our dream man, that would be mine.” There was silence at the table for a full minute. Both of the men couldn’t tear themselves away from each other’s gazes. Will gulped, obviously flustered, “So, tell me about you, Skye. We’ve talked about me for a while. Tell me about your life.” “Well, I grew up here. My family owns a few luxury automobile dealerships and I often spend time helping my dad run them when I have some extra time. I love sexy cars! I worked there growing up. Now I am in my last year of an MD and PhD combined program. I am specializing in endocrinology and genetics--gene therapy to be exact. And my PhD work in on something called CRSPR. It is a new way of working with genes and gene expression. It is fascinating. I would be happy to share more with you sometime. Someone I have been working with just won the Nobel Prize for our work on the project. But, now it seems like talking about heavy science would kill the moment we are having.” He laughed a bit to himself. Will just stared into his eyes. Will was in trouble. He loved smart guys. Especially smart handsome one’s with nibbleable pecs, tight waists, and high round asses. “I hope that I get to hear all about your work some day. It sounds interesting!.” Will let go of Skye’s hand, grabbed his napkin and dabbed his mouth. A server was about to walk by. “Can you point me toward the restroom?” The young woman dressed in black pointed to the far corner of the restaurant. Will looked at Skye, “Excuse me for a moment. I’ll be back shortly.” When Will stood up, Skye saw Will’s cock snaking down the side of his tight jeans. The thing looked enormous—and hard. Almost the size of two soda cans one on top of the other. And halfway down his thick massive thigh sat a huge wet spot. As he rose up to leave the table, Skye got a whiff of musk coming off of Will’s crotch in waves. He almost passed out. “Who the fuck is this guy?” he thought to himself as he gawked at Will’s powerful muscled ass walking away from the table in those tight-as-fuck jeans. “Fuck it!” He said out loud to himself as he stood up and walked quickly toward the bathroom just a few seconds behind his muscular date. He went to open the bathroom door and it was locked. Jiggling the handle, he said in a firm voice. His mind was two steps ahead and already had his hand down Will’s pants. “Will, its me. Open the door.” He said it with authority. The door opened slightly. Will stood there with his pants unzipped and had started his attempt at getting the waist of his jeans over his squat-and-lunge induced hockey butt. His beastly cock was standing out parallel to the floor from where his low hanging large balls met his groin. “I think you have something that I want,” Skye uttered in a commanding voice. He shut and locked the door, stepped forward, sank to his knees and put his large warm pouty lips around Will’s manhood and began to suck as if his life depended on it. From that moment on, the two were inseparable. That night was the first of countless nights the two spent together. Outside of necessary absences, like Skye’s conference, they had not spent a night separated from each other in three years. They could not get enough of each other’s bodies, senses of humor, goals, and desires. They shared a passion for pushing themselves to physical limits and became each other’s personal cheering section in the gym. They wanted to be as close to each other’s fantasies as possible. Not only that, they were falling deeply in love. No one ever saw them apart. ============================================================================================== Will still lay wrapped in the warm arms of Skye, wide-awake. The soft snore of his boyfriend was so soothing to him and he always could fall asleep if he heard it. Tonight had been different though. Skye had finally shared with him the surprise he had been holding out on. Will felt numb and for the first time in a long while—slightly scared. If he were to accept this gift, it would mean all of his wishes would come true as well as those of Skye. But the piper would need to be paid. Things would change drastically. Most importantly, there would be the initial separation. He didn’t know if he could survive without being able to touch Skye for hours on end every day. He didn’t know if he could go days without seeing him. He didn’t know if he could stand not being able to wake up to Skye’s beautiful green eyes, full lipped kisses, and smile. He didn’t know if he could withstand a day without the sensation of Skye sticking his fingers into his crack and playing with his tight hole. Skye loved to tease him like that. Skye had a thing for playing with his tight pucker, and he loved it too. He didn’t know if he could go for longer than two days without feeling his giant cock nestle into his lover’s body. He didn’t know if he could bear the thought of going more than those same two days without hearing the moans and cries of Skye as Will plowed his massive cock into his handsome boyfriend’s ass, hitting his prostate and driving Skye wild with lust and love. They both loved sport fucking. Would it be worth it? Skye was more important than his muscle and size obsession, but Skye had a convincing way about him. Skye knew that he could successfully give them both every desire they shared and fulfill their every fantasy—and do so safely. His beautiful man would NEVER put him in real danger and he knew that. Skye was sure, so he was also sure. There was no one smarter than his man. He lay there awake. The sun was beginning to come up and Skye pushed his back into Will’s huge barrel chest, longing for more skin contact even when completely asleep. Will placed his strong veined arm across Skye’s chest and pulled him in tight. He drifted off to sleep for a couple of hours before his other half began to stir. “Will. Will, are you awake?” Skye spoke quietly. He knew that Will liked to sleep in sometimes on Saturdays. “I am, Beautiful.” “I don’t want you to do this if it is too much or if you are unsure at all…I want you to be happy, and I want to be happy. Don’t let the excitement of my scientific accomplishment influence you. I love you regardless of our fantasies.” “Just one more question, Skye. Do you think you can live without me for the first phase? I don’t know if I can stay sane without you. I don’t know if you can stay sane without me. I know from what you said that it would just be the first phase that we can’t be together. But…Fuck, Skye. I don’t want to be separated from you—ever!” Skye pushed his back further into Will’s massive chest and eased his glutes into Will’s semi-hard cock. Then he turned his face upward and said, “I don’t want to be away from you for a single day either. But, you have a chance to fulfill your dream and my fantasy. Do you think it will be worth it?” Will looked down and saw how much Skye wanted this and he knew that he did too. “Yes, my man. It will be worth it.” They spent the next four hours alternating between making love and fucking like wild animals. It was beautiful. The choice had been made. Will lay there thinking about yesterday--the day that changed everything. ============================================================================================== Skye picked Will up at the office building where he worked. He looked giddy with excitement, like a young schoolboy who had kissed his first crush. “I am ready to unveil my gift to you, Will. Everything is in place.” Skye was electrified. “I want to go right home and tell you all about it. I ordered dinner to be delivered in a little while.” “Do you want to go workout?” “I want to share with you what I have been working on…so, maybe we can skip today?” Skye knew that this was bigger than their daily routine. And soon Will would agree. “Ok, you sexy fuck. Whatever you say!” Will was excited because Skye was obviously about to burst. They made their way back home on the busy streets of rush hour. After they had changed into more comfortable clothes, they stood in the bedroom. Skye leaned in to kiss his boyfriend. Will put his giant hands under Skye’s arms and lifted him up easily so they could kiss straight on. It was something that Will liked to do. It made him feel big and strong. Skye liked it because it made him feel safe and protected. Will was a protective man and loved Skye with a ferocity that made others notice immediately. When he picked Skye up so easily, he was communicating so much to his lover. When he lowered him down, Skye took his hand and walked him into the dining room where he pulled out a chair for Will to sit in. Skye pulled out the chair next to him and pulled it closer to his big lover. Their thighs were touching and Skye placed his hand on Will’s massive chest. “Will. I am ready to share my present with you.” He stopped and gathered himself together for the most important sentence he had ever uttered, up to that moment. “Will, I can grant us all of our wishes about your size…and mine.” Will looked at him quizzically. “I can do it Will. I can make you grow into a mammoth man, larger than those men at the YMCA when you were younger. Larger than the biggest guys at the gym. I can do it. I have figured out a way.” Will looked at Skye and knew that he was telling the truth. A lump developed in his throat and he couldn’t swallow. Was Skye telling him that their fantasies could come true? He knew that Skye would never say such things without being certain. It was one of their many shared secrets…this desire for Will to grow and for Skye to not be far behind. “How?” Will said simply and softly. “Do you want the short version or the long version?” Skye looked like he was going to combust he was so excited and turned on. “Short. I wont understand your long version…too many geeky science words.” There was no laugh in Will’s voice, but looking back, they both eventually would think that this was a funny comment. “Ok, I’ll be brief but cover the important stuff.” Skye put his hand against Will’s cheek and reached up to give him another kiss. He knew that once he said what he had to say, their lives and relationship would change—and he hoped only for the better. “First of all, Will, there must be two stages to your growth. The first stage, I have called The Priming. In this stage, we will take advantage of a relatively recent advancement to the field of neuroscience: epigenetics. This pretty much means that your environment will dictate much of what your genetics will produce. For so long, we thought genetics were fixed. Genes were expressed, and bam…there you are. But this isn’t how it works really. Epigenetics claims, and rightly so, that your environment plays a critical role in how your genes are expressed and it does so throughout your life. It involves methylation and acetylation and a lot of other things that are hard to understand, but I want to use an example…” He looked at Will intently. He wanted to know for sure that Will understood what he was saying. “Think of those huge-as-fuck men who are in prison. Their diet is shit! They don’t have much access to extra calories, especially protein, they only have an hour to work out every day, but they are thick as bears, strong as elephants, ripped and HUGE! How do you think that happens? It goes against every bodybuilding principle.” Will shrugged his shoulders and looked at Skye with a questioning expression. “It’s the environment, Will. Something about being around all of that testosterone, anger, fear, violence…their bodies respond if given the proper trigger, like weightlifting. They become huge because their mind and bodies demand it. The environment demands it too. Something happens to their gene expression and different genes are turned on to make them grow into muscle beasts. Regardless of exercise time or quality and quantity of their nutrition, they grow to be huge fucking muscle bulls. It’s quite amazing! For you though, not only will this environmental aspect need to be engaged, but I will need to give you something called BDNF. It is a neurotrophin that will cause new neuron growth in your brain in order to accelerate the changes and magnify them. That part is key.” Will just stared at him waiting for more. “So the first stage is to naturally change the genes that are being expressed in every cell in your body through a high testosterone and high stress environment and then to buttress this change with exaggerating its effects in your brain. We have to put you in a position to have this type of transformation. Your limiting factor, at this point in your life, is your height. Since your growth plates have closed, we will need to reverse the ossification process of your growth plates and activate those bone growth cells again so that you can grow to the limits of your potential…which is much more that your current 6 foot 3 frame. I have been working on such an injection for quite some time. Originally it was to be used for patients with growth deficiencies, but it should work for you as well. You have a growth deficiency in a way…you and I both want you to be so much bigger. I am going to go through the same process so I can grow as well. But we both want you to remain larger than me, so I will not be going through the Priming. That is just for you, Big Man.” Will was starting to look more convinced. “After the first stage, your body will be ready to receive directions to grow from any stimulus. Your bones will be primed to continue lengthening and your brain will be primed to permit expansion of your body in so many ways; organ growth, vasculature, and most importantly, your muscles. Your brain and every cell in your body will be ready to turn on those genes that will make you grow, grow, GROW! That’s where CRSPR comes in.” This process is quite new, but it will harness the willingness of your body to expand and combine it with a genetic transformation. With CRSPR biotechnology, I will be able to completely annihilate every mysostatin gene in every cell in your body. You would pack on hundreds of pounds of muscle without doing a thing--that is if your body hadn’t been primed, but it will have been so I can’t know the amount of muscle you will pack on, but it will be fucking unbelievable…literally. I can insert genes that will activate your growth plates, I can manipulate your organ sizes to compensate for your increased mass…anything we decide to do, I can do it by rewriting the DNA in every cell in your body. Not only will your cells be primed to change, we will be actively manipulating those cells to do whatever we fucking want them to. ” “Skye, is this real?” “Will, we are going to turn you into a god. And I am going to be right there with you, standing at your side as I have been and always will be.” “FUCK ME!” “That will have to wait until later,” Skye forced out a laugh. “What is important about the second phase, or the growth phase, is that the DNA will be rewritten in your cells by means of a massive infection that must be delivered somehow into your system. Once the virus gets in, the viral particles will inject every cell they comes into contact with genes that I can then engineer to splice into your DNA. It will work, and it will be fucking unbelievable.” “How are you going to get these virus particles into me? You know how I feel about shots.” The big man rumbled a forced laugh. “I’m going to infect myself. I want the same genetic mutations to occur in me, remember. And it will be so much more fun that way. We are going to be closer than ever, Will. I am going to infect myself with a load of viral particles that carry these CRSPRs and I am going to fuck the virus into you…It will be like getting the flu, but instead of getting sick, you are going to get fucking HUGE. I am going to literally fuck you into being a monster. GOD that is so hot!” “I agree Skye. I want you to fuck me huge. Fuck me until you dry up… and then keep going.” Will was starting to get excited now. His huge cock leaping up in his pants. He looked at Skye wild eyed with a love that he could no longer contain. “Let’s go fuck each other and talk about this more after dinner.” “I couldn’t agree more, Big Man. I am so turned on right now! They talked into the night after they satisfied each other. Lying there in bed, sweaty and naked, Will’s swollen manhood was still inside of Skye’s gorgeous ass and had been for over an hour. They cuddled, holding each other close—all salty and sticky with cum. “Tell me more about this first phase. If I can’t be with you when it is happening, I need to know what you have planned. And WHY can’t I be with you? How will my mind be rewired to accept this growth?” “This is the tricky part, Will. The most data I can find about men undergoing this strange change is when they are incarcerated. I know this is scary, but I have figured out a way to get you into that environment and then extract you when the time is right.” Will pulled away, his eyes wide. “I have it planned out Will. I need you to trust me through this process. I have been so careful in my organization and for planning every possible scenario…I have flow-charts mapped for every possibility. It will be ok. You will need to be framed for something, arrested, and jailed…but I will have mountains of evidence that will be unleashed on the courts to prove your innocence when the time is right.” “I’m not a criminal! I don’t want to be locked up, man. Is there another way?” “You big beautiful brute,” he reached over and tugged on Will’s pendulous nipple, “I wish there were a better way, but the data supports this type of situation to maximize the results. I will be sure that you are taken out of that environment as soon as possible. I’m thinking probably a couple of months will do with the change accelerants you will have on board. Will, I will be with you in every moment. I will be thinking of you the entire time, just waiting for you to be ripe for the picking.” He leaned over and gave Will a firm kiss. He looked into his big man’s eyes and realized that Will had tears in his eyes. “What’s wrong, Big Man?” “I am so excited by what you are saying, but the most important thing in my life is YOU! Can I be away from you that long? My heart is racing, man. I don’t know…” “I will be able to visit frequently. I will be there as much as I am permitted to be. I will not leave you alone in there, you mountain of fuck meat! You are MINE and I will take care of you, just like you have taken care of me. It WILL work.” Skye smiled and wrapped his arms around his man’s tight muscle gut. “I love you, Will and I will get you out of there as soon as I can. Phase two will be much easier on both of us I think since we will be together, and that’s when the real growth will happen anyway. I know you can do it and I will be waiting for you.” The next day, Skye brought home a briefcase full of syringes and sealed bottles and ampules. They were ready to start the treatments to soften their growth plates, reestablish the osteoblasts that would create more bone, and the BDNF that would allow Will’s brain to remodel itself at an accelerated rate while he was away. Will was a champ, and allowed himself to submit to Skye’s treatments, even though he HATED needles. He had complete trust in his boyfriend. After a few weeks, he hadn’t noticed any changes, but Skye assured him that there wouldn’t be any this early. Somehow, he hoped that his progress could be met without the second part of the plan…his confinement. The injection schedule proceeded for a few more weeks. Then one day, Skye looked into Will’s dazzling eyes. “It’s time, Will. You are ready to go in. The levels of the hormones we have been working on are high. The growth plates in your bones are beginning to soften and that process will continue over the course of the next few months. I need you to tell me that you are 100% sure that you want to do this. We can just stop now and continue on with our regular lives.” It was Skye’s turn to feel worried and concerned. He had been so excited for the past couple of months about bringing his project to fruition; he had rarely let himself think of how lonely he would be without his big, strong boyfriend. What would it be like to spend every day for weeks entirely alone? He loved this man more than he loved himself—far more, he had realized recently. “You sex beast! I am ready. I have complete confidence in you. I am ready if you think I am ready.” “You are.” Skye looked at Will’s big masculine body and felt like he was saying goodbye to an old and trusted friend. He knew that the next time he saw Will, he would have already started to change. Suddenly, a shock of apprehension flooded him. “Am I ready for this? What will happen to him in there? What kind of man will come home to me when this phase is done?” He knew that the BDNF would help in strengthening Will’s mind and would establish stronger connections between the brain he would develop inside the jail and the body that he would start to grow when he was out; but he also knew that he couldn’t predict how Will’s body or mind would actually respond to the testosterone fueled environment that he would be living in. The plan was set to go into effect now and he only hoped that the same happy, loving Will would emerge on the other side—albeit with a vastly superior capacity for growth. “Tomorrow, it will happen Will. So that you are completely caught off guard and are convincing, I think we should keep with the plan of you not knowing what you are going to be convicted of. The less you know about that, the better. Will, do you trust me?” Will took Skye’s chin into his large meaty hand—the hand that had touched him a million times. “You are everything to me. I trust you completely and I will be praying every moment to see you as soon as I can. Now lets spend the rest of the evening together…no talking about anything other than you and me. I want to just hold you tonight and kiss you. I want to do things to you that I will miss for the next couple of months.” With that, Will grabbed Skye’s hand and for the last time for a while, walked him into the bedroom. That night, of all others in their relationship, cemented them together as a single unit. They cried, and fucked, and laughed, and smiled. They spoke of the past and of the future. They made plans to travel and plans to go to the beach in a few months. They held each other gently and they grabbed each other tightly, not wanting to let go. It was the most intimate time that they had ever spent together in their three-plus years of dating. Before they drifted off to sleep, Will got out of bed and walked naked into the kitchen. His muscular back bulging with strong and powerful mounds of muscle. His thighs and calves looked healthy and thick in the light coming through the window. Skye was struck, for the thousandth time, by the majestic power of his boyfriend. He felt a lump rise in his throat and felt that he would die if he could not touch Will for two months. Will returned to the bedroom with something in his hands. “Skye. You look so angelic in the moonlight.” His voice cracked a bit. He was getting emotional now. He felt that whatever Skye had injected into him to cause his brain to expand in its abilities, was weaving Skye into his psyche and it was Will’s intense feelings for his boyfriend that were causing this reaction. Skye was a part of him on a level that he couldn’t explain. He knew it was the BDNF. He knew that he was cementing Skye as his mate for life and that he was now wired to love this man with a ferocious intensity until the day he died. “Hold out your left hand, Skye.” The smaller man held out his left arm toward Will. A large spool of butcher’s twine came out from behind Will’s naked body. Will pulled out several inches of twine, reached over to the bedroom desk and grabbed a pair of scissors, cutting a length from the spool. He looked down at his partner, sitting on the edge of the bed in front of him and gingerly wrapped the piece of twine around Skye’s extended ring finger. “Skye, things will be different from now on…I didn’t know I was going to do this until five minutes ago, but it is the right time so I’m sorry I didn’t make the traditional preparations…but, Skye, will you marry me? I…I uh, don’t have a ring for you now, so I am hoping this will do.” His hands were shaking as he was tying the knot on the twine ring on Skye’s finger. “Yes. With no doubts…Yes.” “I promise to cherish you forever, to protect you from ANY threat, and to make you happy. I hope that is enough for the moment. AND, I’m sure that I will promise you more later.” Will looked into Skye’s deep green eyes as the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile of complete satisfaction. He leaned in and kissed his new fiancé. Skye was shell shocked, but in the best of ways. They hugged for half an hour and fell asleep in each other’s arms. They would look back on this night as one that shaped their future together and one that they would guide decisions for years to come. Skye was ready to grow his man and Will was ready to get HUGE. =============================================================================================== The sun was just starting to come up and Will stretched out to pull Skye into him. He felt cold. His eyes snapped open. He wasn’t there! “Skye? Skye???” His voice had a hint of agony in it. He instantly knew that Skye was gone. The apartment was silent—dead quiet. His powerful frame sat up in bed and walked, naked, into the living room where he saw an envelope with his name written on it. “My Stud Fiancée, Will” William, Last night reminded me of why I love you so much, not that I need reminding. You make me feel like I own the world, and it is because you are mine. I will not take this ring off of my finger for a moment while you are away. My heart is already aching from your absence and my body is already demanding to be with you again. The hardest thing I have had to do in my life was getting out of that bed this morning but I have things to get done before the city wakes up. Know, with every piece of your body, mind, and soul that I love you. I love you far more than I love myself. It comforts me to know that you feel the same way. I can’t wait to build the rest of my life with you. It will be an adventure that is beyond our imagination. I lay awake last night thinking about your proposal and how it was the perfect time, place, and situation. God, you are romantic. I could never ask for a better companion and partner in life. As we embark on this new chapter, understand that everything I have done, am doing, and will do is for you and me. The next page has instructions that you must follow to the letter. I know you can do this, Big Man. Skye Will noticed that a couple of tears had fallen onto the letter and smudged the ink. His heart was flowing over with emotions. He read the letter once more and then moved to the second page. Will, You must follow these instructions exactly as I have laid them out for you. 1.Put on your black hoodie and your black track pants. Take your sunglasses with you when you leave. 2.At 8:00 this morning, leave the house walking and discard this letter several blocks away in a dumpster. 3.Be in front of my dad’s Ferrari/Maserati dealership on the corner of 12th and Madison by 8:20 with your sunglasses on. 4.Stay several minutes and be sure the cameras catch you outside of the windows. 5.Go to our bank on Broadway and Olive and request to open a separate savings and checking account in your name only. Do this when they open at 9:00. 6.Transfer $20,000 from our joint account to your new personal account. I made a $20k cash deposit from my trust cash reserve so the money is there. 7.Walk home directly and wait. Call me at 11AM. 8.When you are in jail, workout as much as possible. Be aggressive. Be an alpha. You are an alpha anyways, so just take that with you and trust your instincts. Be tough, Will. It will help you get through this and improve your brain remodeling. 9.Keep a journal of your feelings and experiences. I will keep one as well. Write what is happening to you, but be aware that your writings will be read by other people so don’t reference our plan at all. In fact, express your rage toward me. It will make it more convincing. 10.I will see how the case goes and try to come and visit if it seems appropriate for me to do so. If you don’t see me for a few weeks, don’t let it bother you. I am going to be pretending to be furious. Whatever my family says to you or about you—and more importantly whatever I say about you—is all an act. I know it will hurt you--some of the things I’ll say-- but it isn’t real. We need to get you into jail and that means making law enforcement and the courts believe that there is reason to hold you. I will not post bail for obvious reasons. Knowing you, it will be close to 7:00 when you get this. Get going, you big brute. Skye That was it. The rest would be in Skye’s very capable hands. Will showered and put the black hoodie and track pants on. He grabbed his shades from the table by the front door. He tucked the love letter into a stash of papers in the drawer by his bed. He wanted to keep that forever. He went into the closet and stuck his nose into the dress shirts that Skye had hanging up. It smelled like what Skye smelled like in the morning. He grabbed Skye’s workout clothes from the hamper and stuffed his nose into those. He smelled sweat and the unmistakable sweetness of precum. It smelled like Skye at the gym and in the car on the way home from their workout. He didn’t want to forget. Walking toward the front door, he paused and took a deep breath. He opened the front door. As he shut it, he turned around and looked at their little cozy apartment memorizing every detail and closed it. The checklist went off without a hitch. He discarded the letter in a random dumpster next to a restaurant between their apartment and the dealership He was at the dealership standing outside of the windows at 8:20. There were several patrol cars there. He stood there, along with a handful of other people, for a few minutes. Skye’s father was there talking with the officers and looked up and made eye contact with Will. He went to the bank, opened the account, transferred the money, and walked home. He did everything perfectly. Walking in the door, he felt so alone. It was only 10:30 so he waited on the edge of the couch until 11:00 on the dot. He dialed Skye’s work number. “Skye. I did everything on the list.” “Good Will. I love you.” With that the line went dead and a lump rose up in Will’s throat. He didn’t move from the edge of the couch for several hours. Around 3:00, a loud knock sounded at the door and he jumped from being startled. Walking to the door he knew that this was the beginning of his time alone. “William Shaeffer?” “Yes? Can I help you officers?” “We have some questions we’d like to ask you. May we come in?” “Sure.” “What were your whereabouts early this morning around 4AM?” “I was here, sleeping, alone.” After several more questions, the officers requested that Will go to the station with them. They said they had video showing Will in his black hoodie and pants early that morning outside of the dealership. They mentioned his new account and him being spotted at the scene that morning looking around outside. By the end of the day, he had been booked into jail pending a hearing for charges of grand theft. =============================================================================================== Will Journal Week 1: I know that my writings will most likely be read by the jail personnel, so fuck off ass holes. I haven’t been able to write for a few days. The first few have been busy with getting used to the place and getting things set for trial. I can’t believe that Skye hasn’t tried to contact me. I mean, I understand that he thinks I was involved in stealing five cars off of his father’s dealership lot, but fuck…I didn’t do it. They’ve stuck me in a cell with three other guys. All of them look like fucking gorillas—Ugly and Huge. They all seem to get along but are constantly giving me shit. They push me around a bit and call me pansy-boy, but they can fuck off. I feel at ease for the most part. Maybe a bit more energetic. I am only allowed one hour per day to workout and the giant muscle guys here pretty much control who gets to lift on the equipment. They think I’m too new to be worthy I guess. I keep thinking about Skye. I just wish I could talk to him about what happened. He hasn’t returned the calls I have tried to place. I have a visiting day coming up, but I know he won’t be there. The food is shit. =============================================================================================== Skye: I have never felt silence to deep as what I felt walking into our apartment tonight. The cops questioned me about Will. I guess they found that new account almost immediately. Smart fucks. I started injecting the engineered CRSPR viruses into my system today. I couldn’t do so beforehand because I couldn’t risk Will getting exposed before the Priming phase. I know that my body will start changing relatively soon since I included a mysostatin knockout in the viral mix. If the infection takes hold quickly, I should notice something in the next week or so. I miss Will. That’s all I can really process right now. The bed looks so cold and I miss his dopey laugh. I can’t think of anything I’d like to hear more than that. =============================================================================================== Will: It’s been another week. It’s hard to find time alone to write. My trial date was set today. It wont be for another 5 weeks! Fuck. I have been working out religiously since I got here. I don’t know why, but the guys have let me work in with them. Maybe its because I have been able to lift their weight. They know I can handle it. Also, my big billowy jail uniform is getting a bit tight in the arms, shoulders, and legs. That’s weird. Maybe they just gave me the wrong size when they replaced this one. I feel strong. My roommates have stopped picking on me. Maybe that’s because John (he sleeps in the bunk above me) tried to punch me in the face yesterday and I just caught his hand and gave it a good squeeze. I heard some breaking and he went to the nurse’s office. I guess he had seven fractures, probably because he punched the walls or something. I know it wasn’t me. I barely put any pressure on his hand. I miss Skye so much. He still won’t talk to me. Although, I did call his work number today and he picked up the phone, not knowing it was the jail number. I heard his voice and my heart melted. I said “hello” and he hung up. This is hard. ============================================================================================== Skye: Will called me at work today. He just said, “Hello” and my heart about exploded. I told him quickly that I loved him and that I still hand my “ring” on. He mentioned quickly that he was keeping his journal and that he was acting as if I were mad at him. He’s pulling this off very well. His voice sounded a bit deeper, but he said mine did too. The conversation was so short. I don’t want the jail records to show he was on the phone for longer than a few seconds. I’m supposed to be ignoring him. God, this is hard. I’ve gained over 5 pounds this week…and it isn’t fat. I feel like I am just sitting at my desk, growing. It is an amazing feeling. I hope that Will likes the new me. I know I’ll be a lot bigger in a few weeks. ============================================================================================== Will: It’s been two weeks since I wrote last. Someone called me a fag the other day. I lifted him up by his neck and threw him across the room. The piece of shit doesn’t know who he’s messing with. I saw my reflection in the window outside the other day. I was lifting a lot more than the other guys and I looked big. Really big. I can see huge veins running all over my body now. My gut it growing but it is solid, hard muscle. My chest is ballooning out and getting chords of muscle I can see after lifting. My fucking neck though…I can’t even get my t-shirts to go much past my ears. My neck is getting huge. I feel fucking powerful. My cellmates stay out of my way. I fuckin growled at John the other day and I though he was going to piss himself. I thought they were huge just a couple of weeks ago. Who’s huge now, you pieces of shit! They tried to gang up on me last week but after I flexed my legs and arms and my uniform busted open along the seams, they haven’t looked at me in the eye since. They see the weight I am lifting. A couple of guys in the pod have started giving me some of their food too. They want me to get big. I think they also want to worship me and maybe even suck my big cock. More of them should give me food. Maybe I’ll start making some threats. I need to eat more to get bigger. I feel like I’m putting on some serious weight now and I feel that this place is beginning to change me. My temper is getting shorter but conversely, I think I am falling more in love with Skye. I didn’t think that was possible. He still won’t talk to me. I try to call every few days. Sometimes he answers, not knowing it’s me. I’m also getting unbelievably horny. I know, I know. I shouldn’t even think it, but I need sex. I need it. I don’t think I can go much longer without stuffing my big prick into some guy’s tight hole. I wish it were Skye’s. I wish that more than anything. So, I am trying to be strong. But it’s getting harder. I just want to lift, eat, and fuck. What is wrong with me? =============================================================================================== Skye: I’ve talked to Will a few more times recently. Never longer than thirty seconds. It sounds like he is doing well and starting to change. There is a sound in his voice that I cant put my finger on. Ya, it’s deeper and rougher, but he talks to me like I am some delicate unblemished flower but then he says things that are surprising—like how he wants to fuck me all the time and how he wants to rip the arms off of this guy that got in his face in the hallway. I know his trial date is coming up and he will be released then, but I am getting worried about his aggressive tendencies. He is obviously ahead of the curve I thought he would be on. He mentioned that he is bursting out of his jail uniform and that he had to move up a size last week. It sounds like he is becoming quite attuned to his growth and is allowing his environment to work on him as I had planned. I miss him. Whenever I hear his voice, I get hard but I feel that my heart is being torn out. I think that the engineered viruses that I have been injecting are really taking hold. I was sick for a few days, but now starting to balloon out a bit. My shirts are fitting tight and my already ample ass is stretching the seat of all of my pants. My strength has increased by over 20% on all of my lifts, especially bench and squats. Maybe that’s because I know Will loves my legs and ass…and my perky chest. Fuck, I miss him and his beautiful dick. It will all be over in a couple of weeks though. I can wait, I guess. =============================================================================================== Will: The only reason I haven’t knocked all of these fuckers’ heads off is because it will keep me away from Skye longer if I get into trouble here. I can hardly stand to look at most of them. They look at me with fear, and they should. I am turning into a fucking GOD and they are all little piss ants. They know it too. A couple of the guys are cool and they are the only ones I really talk to. They don’t seem afraid of me like most of the other guys and they don’t need to be unless they fuck with me in the wrong way. One of the cool guys asked about Skye yesterday. I told him to be careful when he used Skye’s name. I think he knows to be careful about that. No one really brings up Skye anymore because they are worried that they may say something with the wrong tone of voice or something. They should be afraid. I’ll lose my shit and honestly, I don’t know what I’m capable of anymore. I feel like I could pull the bars off of this cell. Everyone else is scared shitless when they see me. I guess it happened after I destroyed any chance of them competing with me in the weight cage. There was this kinda scrawny younger guy—probably 18 years old or so who wanted to do some lifts. He was new, so the guys were giving him shit right away. I usually work out by myself or with one of the cool guys that are chill. Anyway, Jesse (that’s the kid’s name) kind of looks over at the squat rack like he wants to use it. No one was around it, surprisingly, so he walks over all timid and shit. He puts a plate on each side and starts warming up. It actually looked like it was kind of hard weight for him to lift, but he wasn’t going to show it in his face. These fucking bottom dwellers walk over to him, all tough and shit. They start berating him and calling him a pussy fag and other things I can’t even remember. I don’t know why, maybe it’s because I felt some righteous indignation because they called him a fag or something but I walked over, swole as fuck, sweating, and enormous. Veins were popping out of every part of my body and I looked jacked! I put my hand on the little guy’s shoulder, gently, and told him to keep lifting. I turned to face the other guys and they kind of ganged up on me. There were probably 6 or 7 of them and they were big dudes. I told Jesse to rack the bar and load it up with as many plates as he could get onto it. I looked at the fucking ugly ringleader of the little group and grabbed the bar with my left hand. My arms just felt so powerful, I knew I could lift it. The veins were throbbing all along my arm and I could feel them erupting on every inch of my skin. I grabbed the squat bar with all of those plates on it (I don’t even know how many there were, probably 5 or 6 on each side) and lifted it like it was a 25 pound barbell. The color drained from every one of their faces. Jesse got a huge boner, poor kid. But I did too. He asked if he could suck my cock. I sort of wanted to say yes…but I’m still holding strong for Skye. I am turning into a god and I love it. It’s about time people start showing me some FUCKING RESPECT! ============================================================================================== Skye: I only talked to Will for a short time this morning. He sounds different. His voice is so deep. It reminds me of thunder in the distance. He didn’t say much, as usual, but he did tell me that he could hardly wait for his trial. He said that he has outgrown any expectation that either of us had and he wants me to be proud of his development. I told him I was proud of him no matter what. I think he started crying as he hung up. I am up by 40 pounds myself. With the HGH I have given myself after completing the growth plate softening injections, I have also added an inch of height. Not a ton, but I should start growing more as time goes on. I looked at my body in the mirror this morning when I was getting in the shower. My skin looks as thin as onion skin with thick veins running all over the surface. I love that look. My pecs, legs and ass are where most of the weight has gone I think, but my arms are showing great development too. I am lifting so much more than I was just a few weeks ago before all of this started. I can’t wait to see my man next week. We have a wedding to plan. ============================================================================================== Will: This will probably be the last time I write in this little journal. My trial is tomorrow. Skye came to see me during visiting hours today. He said everything was taken care of, but he said a lot more with his eyes. He couldn’t stop looking at me. He looked like he wanted to eat me alive, and I wanted to jump over the table and make him fuck me stupid. I wanted him to lick and suck every part of my overgrown massive body. I wanted to flip fuck…I want to feed him my thick cock and then pump him full of my man juice. He looked like he wanted it too. I have never felt so out of sorts. Just seeing him after all of this time was mind blowing. He looks so buff. I know I am much bigger now, but he looked so fucking good I couldn’t keep my hands off of my cock. He does something fierce to my brain. I can’t explain it. With anyone else, I feel like a deity, like I NEED to be worshipped and respected. With him, I feel like a little boy seeking approval from a superior. I love that feeling. Knowing I could completely dominate him in every physical way yet giving him complete dominion over me…its such a fucking rush. I couldn’t have chosen a fiancée better suited to me. Our visit was a blur to me. I couldn’t stop looking into his eyes. He looked sooooooo good. Fuck me. I’m the luckiest guy in the world. Yesterday, I told the guys that my Skye would be coming for the first and only time and that they’d better show him the respect he deserved as my fiancée. One guy started chuckling a little when I said “fiancée” like he thought it was funny I was engaged to a guy. I walked over to the metal bars on his cell door, wrapped my big fucking fingers around them and pulled them apart. I could feel the muscles in my shoulders, arms, and back burning, but I needed to work off the anger I was feeling. I wanted to destroy him, end his miserable life, but Skye wouldn’t have liked that. He just stared at me wide-eyed after I pulled the bars apart. He let out a little yelp and I just shot him an evil smile. I think they all knew that they’d better show Skye even more respect than they show me. I think I would have lost all control if someone had even looked at him funny Tomorrow will be a big day. I don’t think I like courtrooms. =============================================================================================== Skye: I went to see Will for the first time yesterday. FUCK ME! He is massive. He completely blew away any projection that I had previously made. I am just guessing here, but I’m thinking he is at least 6 foot 8 now. A few inches in a few weeks isn’t bad for anyone! But his mass is mind-blowing. I walked into the visiting room. The inmates were all sitting at individual tables waiting for us to come in. I walked through the door and scanned the room. I didn’t even know it was him. I just saw this car-sized monstrosity sitting at one of the back tables. I locked eyes with him—he was hard to avoid—and realized it was fuckin WILL! He has put on at least 50 pounds, maybe more. I would guess that his has to be nearing 300 pounds solid. An average of 10 pounds a week! Fuck! He looked at me with such a mix of excitement and anxiety. I could tell he was thrilled to see me the moment our eyes me, but the first thing he said was, “Do I look good? Are you pleased?” Like he could ever be anything other than perfect. I told him how incredible he looked and how I missed his handsome face -- and he looked like I had just given him a winning lottery ticket. His smile almost broke his face in half. We chatted a little bit about the trial tomorrow, but mostly about us. We relived that last night together and he told me that it was one thing that he would think about constantly to make the whole situation bearable. Damn, I love that man. A lot of the time, we just looked at each other and smiled. I could see huge powerful and hard orbs and ropes of his new body under the jumpsuit. I told him I couldn’t wait to explore the fruits of his hard work when he got home. I was feeling frisky and said that I would be doing most of that exploring with my tongue. He just let out a deep guttural moan and looked at me with eyes that I can only describe as “crazy.” I know he will be thinking of that comment all night. When the guards told everyone that visiting time was up, I was the last to leave the room. The guards seemed to be OK with me staying a few extra seconds after everyone left. I’m not sure why, but they didn’t rush the two of us. All of the inmates were seated as their friends or family members left. As I looked at Will, I could see great sadness in him but I just looked at his amazing tri-colored eyes and said, “It will be all over tomorrow, and then you are mine again.” He looked at my ring finger, saw the twine ring he had placed on me, and just smiled. As I turned to walk out of the room, the other inmates stood up, stared at me, and nodded as if they were showing me some great respect or something. I didn’t really understand it, but I turned back to Will. He was standing up too, just looking at me. I waved goodbye, knowing I would see him in a day. The other inmates looked at me too. I didn’t really understand what was happening, but it sure felt like they were almost in awe. It was strange. Since tomorrow is Will’s trial, I have everything in place to assure his release. I know that my body is completely saturated with the viruses that will unleash his growth and I know that will begin happening as soon as I get him to the apartment tomorrow. They are starting to affect me in incredible ways now too. My muscle mass is growing exponentially and my height is increasing at a steady rate. Honestly, I am nervous. He is already so far ahead of where I thought he would be. I think he will be unstoppable when we go through with Phase II. I wonder how fast the growth will be. So many unanswered questions. One thing I do know—the man loves me as much as I love him and I didn’t think that was possible. But, I could tell today that it is true. Tomorrow will be a big day. First, court and then I will fuck my fiancée into godhood. ============================================================================================== To be continued…
  19. hotmuscle101

    Blue Pill Part 20

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

    Dwarfed by Dad - PART 3

    Thanks again for all the great feedback everyone! Once again this was mostly written on my phone, so please excuse the errors. Hope you enjoy the next installment. - PART 1 - PART 2 ************************* DWARFED BY DAD PART 3/4 “Oh-NO… Dad, not my NEW pants!” I barely even made it through the front door of his house, suddenly overshadowed by his colossal bodybuilding figure, hearing the all too familiar sound of his gigantic arm muscles beginning to work and move, simply flex, the tortuous ear filling commanding power, the old man's twenty-nine inch bicep, raising towards my face. His horrendous forest of silver armpit hair exploded against my nose, smothering me in his rank grandpa-aged musk, causing my dick to bloat, bone up humiliatingly. Then I felt the warm marbled layering of muscle striations build against my whimpering lips, this entire mountain of inhuman strength stack, so high, the peak reached the outstretch of his hand, erupted dangerously into his own face. It was as if someone had stuffed this enormous jack o'lantern under his skin, the biggest arm muscle the world would ever see. Within a few seconds, a few simple pumps of this gigantic daddy spectacle, I started shooting streams of jizz, pathetically, right into my own pants. “HAHA!” Dad voice thundered above me. “Measured them at THIRTY-inches this morning!” He pumped his arm once more, once again suffocating me in his arm muscles, the now thirty-inch monster of old man power. My brand new khaki pants were literally destroyed, soaked, sopping wet with the humiliating incestuous juice of my own boy-sized dick, right through the front of my zipper. I cringed embarrassingly. You think I would have been used this by now. After all, this was now at least a twice-daily occurrence, the rules and regulations of being a slave to a growing muscle-god. “Should I get my mask on, sir?” I still timidly asked “Nope!” Dad grinned looking down at me, barely visible through the outstretch of his own titanic male pecs. “I got something SPECIAL planned for you today…” Now usually the old man would make me wear this demeaning monkey-mask, an old costume from childhood, ever since that first day in the shower, a mere two weeks ago. He never wanted to participate in anything “queer”, the whole “ignorance is bliss” thing, even though he was letting another man, his own son for that matter, worship his gigantic naked physique, most of the time until he would shoot, shower me with his creamy thick gallon-sized load. But today, just as he said, he had something “special”, a new level of mockery that I was inevitably going hopelessly eat up. As he placed his hands around his waistband, as the floor and walls began quaking with every monstrous step, as he slowly turned around, bulging out of these sweaty skin tight gym-shorts, I knew, what was grossly in store for me. “W-Wait, d-dad, p-please…” “I always did enjoy the feeling of women's TONGUE up my ass.” Dad snickered. “And now you're going to CLEAN me with yours!” The old man menacingly laughed, beginning the long and lengthy process to pull off his own shorts, wiggle and squeeze down the swampy grey fabric, so much musk wafting his obscene child-gobbling asscrack, I honestly thought I was going to pass out, let alone even make it to the licking part. I held my nose together as the elasticity in his waistband began to crackle and pop, watching his tire-sized hairy muscle-glutes heave outward towards me, blimp almost dangerously large, breaking any known barrier of bubblebutt size. “I can't imagine how BAD I smell…” Dad continued his bantering. “After a SIX-hour workout, I must be RIPE!” The old man laughably struggled, barely able to pull his own shorts down even halfway his ass. There wasn't so much the problem of his swampy bubbled butthole, or his equally growing large male appendage in the front, but more so with his insanely monstrous and inhuman massive forty-two inch bloated hairy daddy-thighs, eighty-four inches in diameter combined! Even a pair of XXL shorts found complete struggle, fabric fraying and stretching to unbelievable transparency. I honestly didn't think they were going to make it... *RIIIIPPPPPPP* “Fucking UNREAL!” Dad roared proudly, as his shorts ripped and blew apart to the floor. “Won't be long before I'm squatting entire NAVY-ships!!!” He grunted jokingly, taking and rubbing one of his colossal hands along the lining of his gigantic hairy stink-hole, the seemingly endlessly muscle canyon of his asscrack. That was just a taste of how the old man had been talking lately, by the way, his insatiably unrealistic dreams of growing, leaving me always speechless, stammering in dumbfounded fear. Last week he actually tried lifting his Honda right in the driveway, right in front of all the onlooking neighbors, the jaw-dropped kids in the street. He grabbed it by the tail end and growled furiously, his muscles surging bigger than ever, as they always did, but thankfully, the car didn't budge. I know a vehicle is nowhere near being some ship on the sea, but I don't know, just the fact that he was even trying, still endlessly growing, gave me worry that these ridiculous dreams of his, would soon become my nightmare of a reality. “WELL?” Dad boomed questionably. “You going to get CLEANING or what!?” “...yes sir.” I responded with a gulp, but what choice did have? That's not to say, I wasn't completely drooling over the once in a lifetime opportunity, monkey-mask free, to get my actual face up against those two mighty and stage-crushing monster muscle glutes. It was still just so humiliating to me, especially with the way dad would treat me, about the “comical” rate he outgrew me, how he was excited to “double me”, he would often remark. I guess he was getting close, weighing in at a shocking 383-pounds of bone crushing grandpa-aged silver hairy man muscle. But you know, it was just three weeks ago I was some proud bodybuilder, and now... “FUCK-yeah!” Dad deeply groaned. “Get your tongue WAY up there…” He grabbed the back of my hair, smothering my face into all his sweat and left over shit before forcibly squeezing my head, an insignificant grape between his buttcheeks, further up into dark depths of his swampy asscrack. Who knew the old man would like this much assplay, or that I ever would ever turn out to be such a fag for muscle freaks. I'll admit though, there was something kind of comforting about digging and licking my way up his suffocating muscle hole, that familiar fatherly musk I had known since birth. The whole scene ended with the old man groaning like a pig and bent over, his foot long horse cock draped on the floor like a Python, splooging a river of cum, out of this totally tongue-sized piss hole. Then he made me lick up the whole thing up. “Now I really do feel like a KING…” Dad remarked, relishing on the whole humiliating view in the reflection of the living room mirror, as he relentlessly posed. Those words were the beginning of the end, destiny veering it's ugly head. A few days later, the old man demanded I moved in with him, needing his “slave” to be around whenever he commanded. He still fucked woman regularly, daily almost, “pussy splitting” them with his grotesquely veiny old man cock. I still didn't get how he was doing it, how he was growing all over, like some testosterone dripping teenager during a growth spurt. His height had reached a daunting six-foot-four, his feet to a shoe-popping size sixteen, clothing dimensions you wouldn't believe. “Hand me another one, SQUIRT!” Dad boomed above me. “Y-You want M-MORE?” I stammered in disbelief. It was about a week later at the grocery store, aisle seven, the frozen meat department. Dad had finally surpassed his eagerly awaited 400-pound mark, 423-pounds to be precise, so much muscle bulging into muscle, it wasn’t just freaky, it was downright terrifying. Yet he still wanted more, guzzling back four protein shakes already as we wandered up and down the aisles, a man dying of thirst, only it was his muscles, and you wouldn’t believe how much they needed to feed. His brand new XXL-sized clothes looked on the verge of bursting, especially around his grotesquely bloated muscle-gut, the nearly painted on and tortured light blue denim, splitting obscenely around the seams of his legs and groin. I reached down into the shopping cart regardless, never wanting to disobey my master, handing him another bottle of Muscle Milk, only two left now out of the original six-pack. The old man swiped it fiercely from my hands, blowing off the cap with a single thumb, raising the spout to his lips. “God-DAMN, feels like my shirt is gonna BURST!” Dad winked looking down at me, another devilish grin on his face. “OH-Well!” He was so unapologetic, so arrogant in his actions. He didn’t even stop to think about the mounding spectacle of people forming, women and men alike, staring at the over 400-pound muscle god with three full shopping carts. There was this pregnant wife with two children, some little cheerleader with all her friends, even another father with his son after baseball practice, then came the smartphones. With all that protein building up, filling him with a nearly boundless amount of fuel, I knew, it was only a matter of time before there would be another incident, another explosion of muscle growth, just like that day at the gym, captured on the endless amount of cameras surrounding us. “MMPF, SO-good!” Dad grunted under his gulping breaths. “D-Dad, y-your clothes…” I cringed, whimpering devastatingly, as his nearly transparent shirt, the already painted on and skintight ripplings of his freaky muscle striations, began ballooning even bigger. You could already hear the whispers and squeals of the crowd, the baseball boy roar in amazement, as if he had just seen the Hulk, a real life superhero. The various artificial sounds of camera shutters echoed throughout the store, just as I could hear the first small tear, somewhere underneath his armpits, then a second around the underside his two overshadowing inflated blimps of hairy mammoth pecs. *SNAP, POP* “SORRY folks!” Dad chuckled carelessly with a belch. “I was just SO hungry!” *BURRPPPP* *RIIPPPPPPPPPP* As he let out another thunderous belch, before I could even blink, nearly every thread in his shirt suddenly unraveled across the insane rumbling muscle dimensions of his chest into a million tiny pieces, blowing around his beachball-sized arms, detonating around his barn door wide lats, absoluting exploding around his gorilla-sized neck. The crowd variously gasped as every inch of his shirt helplessly fell to the floor, revealing to all them, even the now drooling store employees, the worlds most disgustingly powerful, the most musclebound hairy old man chest, the biggest daddy to walk the planet! “OOPS...” Dad smirked, hearing the various pathetic remarks, the words of disbelief and terror. He started posing anyway, with that wild grin on his face, flexing nearly every muscle he could, starting with his arms first, his burly and gigantic thirty-three inch beasts, nearly crushing his own skull as the two mountainous peaks collided with his stubbled silver face. Then he pleasurably began to bounce and quake his gigantic chest, the blimping hairy chest cleavage, the two overshadowing airships of power, feeling as if the aisle was actually beginning to shake. A few of the women's awes turned into sweet tiny moans, as they publically grabbed grabbed their sopping wet groins, finger-damming there uncontrollable gushing pussys. Even some of the men began bulging in there pants, throbbing pervertedly, continuously adjusting themselves. “JUST started working out a few MONTHS ago!” Dad arrogantly stated, the big crowd pleaser, making everyone chuckle, as if it was a joke. He looked down at me right afterwards with that smirk again, like they had no idea what was to come, as he powerfully turned his stance and showed off his absolutely door-crushing backside. You could tell that he was aching for more, more muscle, occasionally glancing down at the two remaining bottles of Muscle Milk with his piercing blue eyes. I thought he was going to do it, but then, out of nowhere, embarrassingly enough, the old man let out this gigantic grandpa fart. *RIIIPPPPPPPP* “OH-fuck!” Dad devilishly laughed, turning his neck and attempting to look down towards his ass. “Was that my PANTS!?” The crowd gasped once more, I couldn't believe it, covering my mouth and staring like everyone else. His two bulbous and obscene muscle glutes, the pornographic airbag sized butt cheeks, just from a simple fart, had rumbled and quaked to such a severity, that the light blue denim fabric had actually torn apart, right down the shockingly deep muscle valley of his asscrack. Luckily, for the all children's sake, the now dozens of families watching, his swampy grey briefs were still strongly held together. But you could still hear the sound of fabric crackling, slowly snapping apart, as if the old man wasn't done growing yet, as if this whole show was just beginning. “He’s G-GROWING!!!” This woman suddenly shrieked. “You FOLKS want to see some REAL MUSCLE!?” Dad roared, the old man was fucking eating it up. I don't know if he was growing on purpose, or if he just couldn't stop, but he did forcefully and ultimately playfully pump and flex his legs, blowing the remaining seams around his tremendous muscle thighs and groin in an instant. Still mostly held together, however, the now tattered and tortured blue jeans, he let out this deep sinister laugh as the growth took place, as the skin of silver monster muscle legs began effortlessly squeezing through the gaping holes of the fabric, torrentially swelling bigger. It was shocking to say, that his nearly basketball-sized calves were the first to completely blow through the bottom of his pants. *RIIIPPPPPPP* “I make ARNOLD look like an ANT!” The old man mocked, towering above us looking six-foot-seven, posing like the champion he was, the total reigning supreme bodybuilding god of the world. After his calves, his shoes completely blew apart, tearing around the front first from these gigantic hairy toes, then around the laces due to his widening feet, brand new Nike’s, completely destroyed. The crowd continued to gasp, most family's ran. It was just in time as his over fifty-inch muscle thighs blasted through the rest of his denim, the teeth of his pant-zipper erupted with this firehose-bulge of musky underwear fabric. The whole thing ended with those planetary muscle-glutes, those two car-crushing swampy butt cheeks, snapping what was left of the destroyed fabric clinging to his legs. “Better SHIELD your EYES!!!” That was dad’s favorite part, as he boomed the words with laughter, as he shattered the aisle with a most muscular pose. We watched the video what must have been a dozen times, one of many recordings posted online, along with hundreds of shocking photos, the old man's new ego-exploding treasure trove. He couldn't even operate the computer his hands were so big, crushing his desktop keyboard at first, making us revert to my tiny eleven-inch laptop. “They're calling me a GOD!” Dad chuckled delightfully, slowly standing up from his broken chair. “I think it's time you WORSHIP your GOD…” I'll just let you know, that he was completely naked, and he was pointing to his size-twenty feet. It felt just like that first time in the shower. I didn't even ask if I should wear my monkey-mask. My tongue started slowly with those gigantic-toes, kissing and working my way up to those cock-boning disgustingly freaky bowling-ball calves, then I made my way up his gigantic monstrous silver thighs. It was absolutely terrifying, being next to these legs nearly triple the size of my own body. But I kept on worshiping, despite his questionable movements, the occasional thump from a single tiny motion, shaking the entire house, nearly snuffing me out. It was then I looked up, terrified, just knowing what was going to happen next. “GOD-damn, just look at those pretty little LIPS!” Dad suddenly grabbed me by the cheeks, stuffing his gigantic thumb down my throat. “I think it's time you SUCK your DADDY’S cock!” I always knew I was a little gay... **************************** Comments are appreciated
  21. (I accidentally posted this in the Story Archive, so I reposted it here) It was my first day of college, and I decided I was done being pushed around because of my small size and skinny stature. I wasn’t going to be called stringbean, pussy, or tadpole anymore. This is it, I thought, I will finally change into the huge fucking hunk of my wettest dreams. And so, early in the morning before class, I had taken it upon myself to visit the campus gym. As I approached the building, I could see through the windows that there were some seriously jacked bodybuilders in there, pumping muscle with gigantic weights as if they were as light as a pencil. I walked inside and began to lift weights, heaving with all my might but getting quickly exhausted after two sets of fifteen reps. I gazed over at a dreamy shredded twink in a blue tank top, whose veiny arms and hard pecs thrusted as he did deadlifts. He had scruffy brown hair, an amazing jawline, and intense blue eyes that were complimented by the beautiful eyebrows that sat on top of them. He was wearing a pair of gray sweatshorts that cradled his big bouncing ass tightly, and as he turned around, I almost slobbered when laying eyes on the thick, long outline of his huge cock. Seeing me staring at him, he smiled devilishly, put down his weights and walked towards me, his big dick shaking with every step. “Hey,” he said as he sat on the bench next to me, “can I help you with anything?” Realizing my mouth was wide open, I said, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.” Feeling my average-sized dick hardening in my gym shorts, I crossed my legs, and tried not blush, but I failed. ”It’s okay,” he replied, “you’d be surprised how often that happens.” His sweaty musk smelled so alluring. ”I wouldn’t be that surprised,” I responded, licking my lips and looking once more at his dick, which was creeping out of his shorts. “My name’s Anthony,” he said, smoothing back his spiky hair, “what’s yours?” ”I’m Adrian,” I replied, feeling warmth spreading to every place on my body, and desire inching up my throat. I was about to reach out and run my hand gently over his biceps, when he glanced at his watch. “Oh wow! Sorry, I’m gonna be late to class!” he exclaimed, and bolted out the door, his butt swaying perfectly behind him as he left. Sighing, I returned to my pointless weightlifting, wishing hopelessly that I could suck his cock and fuck his ass. He would never agree to that, though, I thought, looking sadly at my nonexistent pecs and completely flat stomach. Later, in the afternoon, I saw Anthony exiting the locker room as I walked in. He nodded at me cockily, and I nervously smiled back, wanting to say something flirty, but before I could he had rounded the corner. I cursed myself silently and entered the boys locker room. I always hated gym class. I mean, you can’t blame me, a scrawny little white gay kid with barely a hair on my chest, for hating gym. The locker rooms were torture, watching all the ripped straight guys casually removing their boxers in front of me and walking around with their donkey cocks flopping all over the place. They were like stupid alpha wolfs, bantering about which girls they were going to fuck next, comparing their dick sizes, pulling each other’s pants down and laughing hysterically. As I furtively approached my locker, Jason Tyler, who’d gone to my high school, grabbed the waist of my briefs and tugged them towards the ground, snickering maliciously. Jason was a blond dumb jock, with a rock-hard eight-pack that he showed off like a peacock. “Hey, Adrian!” he called stupidly as his cronies gathered around. “Nice four inches of steel you got there,” he mocked, pointing at my fully visible hard-on with glee. ”It’s actually five inches,” I corrected, immediately regretting my decision to say anything. I pulled my briefs back on, which hardly did anything to hide my obvious boner. “Sure,” Jason remarked with a sneer. “Have you seen my eight inches?” he asked, whipping his dick out at me with a grin. “They’re fucking mind-blowing!” As he walked away, whooping like a buffoon, I angrily gave him the middle finger, but he didn’t notice, as he had already begun picking on some other guy. That evening, as I slowly and forlornly walked to my dorm hall across campus, I remembered my goal of the year, to not end up being pushed around, and I glumly frowned, for it seemed as though I would fail miserably. As I entered my dorm building, I discovered a small card pinned to the noticeboard in the entryway. It said “Utterly flabby? Grossly skinny? Want to become a sexier you without fake pills or exhausting exercise? Then come to The Erotic Magic Shop on the corner of Hillsbury and Cedar. We’ve got what you want.” Intrigued, I put the card in my pocket and began to exit the building when I ran smack into Anthony, who was standing in the doorway. ”Oh! Sorry!” I said with a slight tinge of pleasure from feeling his stony abs press up against me. For a brief moment, I could sense his thick meat push onto my dick, and my shorts became moist with precum. ”That was my fault,” Anthony said with a cute smile, his hunky forearms glistening with perspiration in the early evening sunlight. “Where are you going?” “I’m new to this area,” I replied, scratching the back of my neck, “so I don’t quite know. Where is Hillsbury and Cedar?” He proceeded to describe the directions, but I kept goggling at his fucking hot body and his bulging cock, my mouth watering for the warm shot of cum that it would release. After sheepishly explaining that I wasn’t listening, he laughed robustly and agreed to walk with me there. As we walked, I tried not to gawk at his gorgeously muscled torso, or his firm but deliciously bubbly ass, with curved cheeks that rose and fell with each stride, but I couldn’t resist the occasional lustful glimpse. We arrived at the Erotic Magic Shop, finding it ramshackle and decrepit, the sign almost eroded completely off. I told Anthony that he was welcome to go back, and he returned to our shared dorm building, saying that he had to finish some homework. Despite the closed sign on the door, I went in, finding it strangely unlocked. It was dark, dusty, and full of boxes piled as high as the ceiling. “Hello?” I called, to no response. As I was passing down an aisle of boxes, I heard what I thought was someone whispering my name. Adrian, it said. Adrian... I followed it to the far corner of the room, where a small flask with a clear green liquid sat on a table, labeled only with the words “Drink me.” Suddenly I thought I heard footsteps on the other side of a stack of boxes, and, snatching the flask, I dashed out the door and ran hastily back to my dorm. Entering my room, I was surprised to find that Anthony was my roommate. He was sprawled shirtless on his back, laying in camo lycra boxer-briefs on his bed with a book in his hand. The head of his cock was protruding from the protesting briefs, with a drip of precum hanging from his dickhole. His broad shoulders stretched out across the mattress, and his chiseled abs moved slowly with his breathing. ”Wow! We’re... roommates?” I asked excitedly, seating myself on my bed, which was next to his. ”Yeah,” Anthony said with a boyish grin, literally struggling to keep his dick in his briefs. “Isn’t this great?” Smiling anxiously, I ran into the bathroom and locked the door, taking off my jacket and t-shirt. My shorts soon followed, leaving me in my undershirt and briefs. Then I grabbed the flask of green liquid from the pocket of my shorts. I immediately gulped down all of the liquid and stood in front of a full-length mirror, feeling ridiculous just waiting for something to happen. Then I felt it. All throughout my nerves, I felt a tingling sensation of sexual desire. My whole body began to throb with pleasure like a dick blowing its load, and I trembled and shuddered with orgasmic joy. “Fucccckkk!” I cried with ecstasy as I noticed my feet growing larger and veinier in front of my eyes, my toes slowly jutting out. Next my calves began to grow, the swelling creeping up my legs until my thighs and quadriceps had erupted with layers of smooth muscle as well. Then my torso quivered in excitement as my flat stomach shredded into a perfect eight-pack of washboard abs visible beneath my undershirt, which I lifted up, running my hand over my chiseled abs in erotic awe. Suddenly, full round pecs sprang forward out of my chest, ripping the undershirt down the middle and rising like mountains. Hard nipples pointed from their peaks, which lactated milk that oozed like cum down my body. My arms followed, biceps bulging out with a pulsing vein down the middle of each one, my triceps popping forth into hulkish treetrunks. Turning around, I could see my shoulders and back broadening and thickening, tearing the undershirt to shreds as my lats expanded with growing muscles. I groaned with gratification as I looked at my ass, which ballooned and bubbled bulbously against my stretching briefs. I flexed my huge ass, feeling the muscles contract and expand deliciously as my hole twitched with delight. ”Unnnnhhh!” I moaned as I turned back around, feeling a throbbing sensation coming from my cock, which bulged in girth and length with every pulse, my straining briefs almost bursting at the seams as my balls grew to the size of melons. I grabbed and squeezed my thick horse cock, pulling the heavy python from my pants and letting its massive head flop down past my knees, where it swung like a pendulum between my legs, dripping a puddle of cum on the floor. I tugged at the hanging veiny monster and stroked it with both hands, covered in cum. My elephant dick began to harden, pushing up to my pecs, where I licked its hole, flowing and streaming with delicious juice. I rubbed the whole fucking huge cock against the full-length mirror, increasing my pleasure infinitely. “Fuck yeah! Fuuuuccckk!” I yelled, hearing my voice become stronger and deeper as I became ready to shoot my load. The mega-cock spewed a flood of sticky cum, which covered the entire bathroom in a gooey mess. I laid down on the floor in my own cum, feeling incredibly intense waves of indulgence roll over me with every spurt. As my dick flopped back down to just below my knees, I heard Anthony call from the bedroom. “What are you doing in there?” he yelled. “Are you alright?” I grinned with excitement and got to my feet, checking out my wet body in the mirror. I was no longer a scrawny toothpick; I was a fucking beast, with round, firm, and meaty legs that supported my godlike torso, which popped in all the right places. My arms were monstrous, and I noticed as I flexed my basketball biceps that my hands had grown as well. I reached for my briefs, to try and put them back on, and, squeezing each leg into the elastic, I got them to fit snugly around the juicy curve of my thick ass. Grasping my giant floppy cock, which was well over a foot long, I tried to shove it into my stretching underwear, causing a couple large rips to appear in the elastic. After a few seconds of struggling to keep the slippery, luscious piece of meat within the confines of my bulging briefs, I gave up and let the huge head hang blatantly out the bottom. ”Adrian?” called Anthony, “What was that noise?” ”Nothing. I’ll be out in a second!” I responded. Smiling devilishly, I licked my lips and exited the bathroom. (To Be Continued)
  22. This story came about from an idea I had a month ago, after re-reading my favourite story on this forum, which was archived from the old forum. The conversation I had with the author, where he gave me permission to use parts of his story in mine, can be found here: https://muscle-growth.org/index.php?app=members&module=messaging&section=view&do=showConversation&topicID=23174&st=0#msg108559 I separated my parts of the story from the author's parts with a line of equal signs: ================== ANDREW'S RECRUITING SUMMER CHAPTER 1: ANDREW MAKES A NEW FRIEND IN WASHINGTON, D.C. Andrew, Carrie and Mike, after spending Canada Day 2005 in Orillia with their parents, headed down to Washington, DC to spend Independence Day at the National Mall. They took Highway 11 south from Orillia to Barrie, where they took Highway 400 down to Toronto. Then they took the 427 to the QEW and headed around the western edge of Lake Ontario to Fort Erie. There, they crossed the border into Buffalo, New York and took US Highway 219 south to Dubois, Pennsylvania. They then turned east onto Interstate 80 and took it to US Hwy 15. They took that highway south to Harrisburg, the State Capitol of Pennsylvania, at the junction of Interstates 81 and 83. They spent the night at a hotel in that city. On July 3rd, Andrew and his friends took a scenic route into Washington DC, taking I-81 down to Hagerstown, Maryland, where they stopped at Borders Bookstore. Then they took I-81 southwest from Hagerstown Maryland into West Virginia, where they stopped at the State Welcome Center and had lunch at the BBQ that was going on. After lunch, they took I-81 further south into Virginia, and turned east onto US Hwy 50 just south of Winchester. They took that highway right into Fairfax, where they stopped at the Fairfax Towne Center and had supper at Five Guys Burgers and Fries. Then they proceeded to their hotel: the Comfort Inn Pentagon City in Arlington, Virginia. Once they had checked in, Andrew, Mike and Carrie jogged to the National Mall in Washington DC, to plot out their route for the morning of July 4th. Late the next morning, on Independence Day, Andrew, Carrie and Mike woke up in their hotel rooms, ready for their 90 minute walk to the National Mall. "I'm glad we scouted out the route last night while jogging," Mike said to Andrew, as they had a late breakfast after showering and getting dressed. "Yeah man," Andrew agreed. "It only took us about half an hour to jog there, but today we'll walk, since there will be so many people heading there." "Good thing we're leaving your truck at the hotel," Carrie said. "The traffic in the National Mall today (July 4th) would be at a standstill for hours. Not to mention that we would never be able to find a parking space." "That's why I picked this hotel Carrie," Andrew reminded her with a smug grin. "It's within walking distance of the National Mall." "Well that was fine for last night Andrew, but maybe we should take the train today," Carrie suggested. "Good idea Carrie," Andrew agreed. "I scouted out a few Metro Stations during our run last night and I believe the Pentagon City Station should serve our needs nicely." http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/dc/DC_Metro_Map_2013.svg/2000px-DC_Metro_Map_2013.svg.png "You're right Andrew," Mike agreed, looking at the Metro Map and the street map side by side. "We can walk northeast on Army-Navy Drive until we get to the Pentagon Row Shopping Center and the Metro Station is right there." https://www.google.ca/maps/place/Comfort+Inn+Pentagon+City/@38.8576678,-77.0593496,14z/data=!4m2!3m1!1s0x89b7b14a8fdfabd5:0x30a73c112191b664 So after breakfast the three teens began walking towards the National Mall, making sure to take a picture of the Air Force Memorial along the way. ==================================================================================================================================================== “Will we have to switch to the yellow line at the Pentagon station to get to L’Enfant Plaza?” I asked as we pulled into the parking garage of the Franconia-Springfield Metro Station. “I don’t think so,” JP answered from the driver’s seat, turning toward Chrissy who was sitting next to him. “Chrissy, didn’t they change the lines around to direct crowds better?” She didn’t answer, staring at JP’s body, totally enraptured by his newest brawn. “Chrissy?” “Huh, what?” she said, suddenly coming out of the daze. “Oh, yeah, you’re right.” He smiled warmly, causing her face to turn a crimson red. It was the Fourth of July and we were headed into DC to see the fireworks on the National Mall. Chrissy had nearly wet her pants at the sight of JP when we arrived to pick her up. At 174 pounds – probably 175 by now – of pure muscle, he was starting to look like a god. His light blue tank-top beautifully accentuated his chiseled shoulders and arms, the color brought out the bright blue in his eyes. He looked…well, perfect. We walked across the bridge into the station, bought our tickets and hopped aboard the train. Immediately, JP began attracting stares from other passengers, their eyes filled with awe. They couldn’t quite believe that a kid his age could be so phenomenally built. They marveled at how his strong, wide neck supported his flawless face, how the straps of the tank-top draped over his gracefully curved traps, how his thick shoulders and arms bulged with muscle upon muscle and were covered with writhing veins, how his lats flared out making the difference between his broad shoulders and tiny waist that much more impressive. And his butt…man, JP’s ass was beyond gorgeous, its perfect bubble shape provocatively filling the seat of his shorts. I, myself, couldn’t keep from watching my boyfriend’s muscular arms jump and flex efficiently while holding onto the pole of the Metro car, his shoulders and lats shifting silently underneath his thin skin as we hurtled smoothly through the suburbs. ===================================================================================================================================================== Within half an hour, Andrew, Carrie and Mike had arrived at the Pentagon City Metro Station. They bought their tickets and stepped aboard the train, which would take them to the L’Enfant Plaza Station just south of the National Mall. ===================================================================================================================================================== "Oh my god," JP said softly, so that only I could hear him. "What is it?" I asked him, following his startled gaze over to the open train doors. My eyes widened as the two biggest guys I had ever seen in my life stepped onto the train. "Those guys are so big they make your brother look like a midget," I whispered in fear. JP glared at me, which reminded me that he was still smaller than his brother. "Sorry JP, I didn't mean it like it sounded." "That's okay Matt," JP assured me, the anger fading from his eyes. A look of fear, which I had rarely seen before, showed up in his eyes. "I never thought I would be scared of any guy now that I'm such a good wrestler, but even I wouldn't be able to take on those muscular brutes," he whispered so that Chrissy couldn't hear. The slightly bigger guy, who had red hair and must have been six and a half feet tall, seemed to hear JP and looked towards him. The huge guy smiled and nodded at JP and after a few seconds of hesitation JP nodded back bravely. "Good job JP," I whispered. "I would've been too scared to make eye contact with such a big guy." JP smiled and I was relieved to see that the fear in his eyes had been replaced with his usual confidence. ===================================================================================================================================================== "Good job Andrew," Carrie commended him. "You scared that guy in the light blue tank top at first, but once you nodded at him, it seemed to put him at ease." "That was my intent Carrie," Andrew informed her. "I know a fellow athlete when I see one and even though he's a lot smaller than I am, I think I want to get to know him better. He looks familiar; once I remember where I've seen him before, I'll introduce myself." "I'm sure you'll get the chance once we're at the National Mall Andrew," Carrie assured him. "I think that everyone on this train is going to get off at the L’Enfant Plaza Station." ====================================================================================================================================================== The three of us heedlessly joked around the whole time and before we knew it, we were coming up the escalator to ground level. As soon as we had picked our spot smack dab in the middle of the National Mall – between the Hirshhorn Museum and the National Archives – JP opened up his backpack and pulled out his beloved Navy Frisbee. “We should get a little game in before it gets too crowded,” he suggested, beginning to pull off his tank-top. Chrissy let out an audible gasp as she saw his bare torso. My heart did a flip, like it always did when he would strip off his shirt. “God, you’re getting to be such a hunk,” she gushed, eyeing his massive chest, “you’re gonna be turning straight guys gay soon.” I burst out laughing, practically choking on my own spit. Chrissy quickly looked over at me. “What?” I couldn’t answer her, I was in such hysterics. JP smiled enchantedly and peered over at me. A chill went down my back. “You should see Matt’s body now, Chrissy,” he commented. “He’s getting bigger, too. Take off your shirt, Matt!” Chrissy looked in my direction with aroused eyes. I bit my lip and acquiesced to my boyfriend’s bidding – how could I not? I not-so-expertly wrestled my T-shirt over my head and threw it on top of JP’s backpack. “Wow!” Chrissy exclaimed. “You look amazing!” She sighed, passing her eyes between JP and me. I could tell that she was in heaven, being sandwiched between the two of us. “I can’t believe I’m hanging out with the two most gorgeous guys in the world,” she said, coming toward me and gently laying her hands on my abs. She raised her head and gazed into my eyes. “Matt,” Chrissy whispered, “I never realized until now how hot you are.” Her hands slid up to my chest, brushing against my nipples. Was she coming on to me? “I’ve been working out a bit,” I admitted, shrugging. Although I was still nothing compared to JP’s body, I had managed some modest gains myself. At 155 pounds – a full 10 pounds heavier than I was during crew season – I was in the best shape of my life. My body fat had dropped to just below 10%, so I knew that all of that new weight was muscle. My chest was developing pecs, my arms were gradually growing thicker and my six-pack – my most prized possession – was getting well-defined. “You gonna play Frisbee with us, Chrissy, or are you just gonna stare at Matt?” JP taunted, smiling brightly. Chrissy blushed and took off her own T-shirt, revealing a white tube-top underneath that clung tightly to her firm breasts. The girl was incredibly hot herself and I know that if I had been straight, I would’ve been completely boned right at that moment. She had an incredibly fit body – curves in all the right places – so you could imagine the looks we got from people, girls and guys. Of course, one look at JP and none of the other guys dared approach Chrissy, assuming that he was her boyfriend and that they would have to go through him first. Little did they know how lucky they might have been if they had tried. ====================================================================================================================================================== Once Andrew and his friends arrived in the middle of the National Mall, between the Hirshhorn Museum and the National Archives, Andrew opened up his backpack and took out his Miami Hurricanes football. "Are you ready for some football Mike?" he asked his teammate. "Yeah Andrew; I'm always ready," Mike assured him. "But do you think it would be a good idea to get a few pictures of the US Capitol Building and the White House before it gets dark in a couple of hours?" "Let's throw the football around for a while first," Andrew decided. "Then we can see those two buildings and get back to our spot on the lawn here by dusk." So for the next hour, Andrew and Mike threw the Miami football back and forth, making sure to take off their t-shirts to show off their massive muscles. As crowds of people began to fill the National Mall in preparation for the fireworks that evening, Andrew and Mike began to draw stares of awe and fear from the people around them. Andrew also noticed the brown haired guy from the train staring at him with a mixture of awe and envy. Andrew grinned at the guy, who bravely nodded back, before he had to dive to catch the Navy Frisbee his smaller friend threw him. ====================================================================================================================================================== For the next couple of hours, we tossed the Frisbee around in fun – no one bothered keeping score. Chrissy and I both admired JP’s athleticism, despite his dense musculature. No matter how far or in what direction I threw the Frisbee, he never failed to catch it, often making spectacular dives to do so. He was just so fast and agile. He was so strong and beautiful. He was a superjock. ===================================================================================================================================================== An hour after they had started throwing the football around, Andrew said to Mike, "I think we've thrown the football around long enough. It's time to go get our pictures of the Capitol Building and the White House before it gets dark. Then we'll get back to our spot here by sunset, about half an hour before the fireworks start." "How will we find our spot once this area is completely filled with people Andrew?" Carrie asked, as Mike put the football in the bag. "We'll look for the guy on our left who's been throwing the Navy Frisbee around with his friend; he's impossible to miss," Andrew informed her. "Especially since he's had his tank-top off for the past hour," Carrie reminded him with a sexy grin. "Careful Carrie; you only have one boyfriend and that's me!" Andrew shouted, flexing his massive biceps. "Whatever you say Andrew," Carrie chuckled as Mike stood up wearing Andrew's backpack. "It looks like we're ready to go." "Yes we are Carrie," Andrew said, looking over to his left and smirking. Carrie followed his gaze and saw the well-muscled guy holding the Navy Frisbee staring at Andrew. Then the guy turned away, embarrassed to be caught staring, and threw the frisbee to his friend. "Has that guy been staring at us for the past hour Andrew?" "Yeah, ever since Mike and I took our shirts off Carrie," Andrew replied, as they started walking towards the Capitol Building. "You've enjoyed shocking him with your huge muscles over the past hour, haven't you Andrew?" Carrie suddenly realized. "Yeah I have Carrie," Andrew replied. "I have been impressed, however, with how quickly he's regained his composure and bravely nodded back at me every time I've nodded at him. Hopefully, by the time we get back to our spot, I'll have remembered where I've seen his picture. Then I can introduce myself to him." "I'm going to take a picture looking back towards our spot on the lawn so that we can find our way back," Mike said. "Good idea Mike," Andrew agreed, as they crossed the street. The three friends turned around to look back towards the Washington Monument. "Make sure you get the guy from the train in the center of the picture. That way, we'll be sure to find our spot when we get back." Mike took the picture and then they continued on their way towards the Capitol Building. Andrew and his two friends continued walking closer to the Capitol Building, and then Andrew suddenly noticed a group of US Army guys up ahead in black t-shirts standing near their trucks. "I'm going to ask them if we can get a picture with them," Andrew decided, quickly putting his t-shirt back on. "I'll signal you two to join me if they say yes." Andrew bravely walked up to the Army guys, all of whom looked glad that they were on the other side of the fence from such a huge muscular guy. It's the same reaction I get from guys at the Reserves, Andrew said to himself with a silent sigh. I really wish people would stop being afraid of how big and strong I am, but I guess that's impossible! The Army guys were glad to have their picture taken with Andrew and his friends, especially after Andrew showed them his Military ID. They even pointed Andrew and his two friends in the direction of the Capitol Reflecting Pool, where other Army guys would be preparing mini-artillery guns for firing later in the evening. Andrew and his friends continued walking and soon saw a good view of the Capitol Building above the treetops: the "CNN view" as some called it. "Good job Mike; you're getting lots of good pictures of our first trip to Washington DC," Andrew commended his big friend. "Thanks Andrew, I get the feeling that we'll always remember this day," Mike said. "Yes we will Mike: because I just remembered where I've seen that guy with the Navy Frisbee before," Andrew said. "Well don't keep it to yourself Andrew!" Carrie admonished him, once she realized he wasn't going to say anything more. "All in good time Carrie; we're approaching those mini-Artillery guns the Army guys told us about," Andrew informed her. Just like the Army guys at the trucks, the guys manning the guns gladly posed for pictures with Andrew and his friends. After the pictures were taken, Andrew made sure to thank the soldiers for their service. The soldiers promptly thanked Andrew for his support, making Andrew feel very humbled and proud that he served his country like they did theirs. Then Andrew and his friends moved on, making their way around the northern edge of the Capitol Building until they reached the large plaza on the east side. "I have an idea for your next profile picture on MySpace Andrew," Mike said suddenly. "What is it Mike?" Andrew asked, as Carrie continued taking pictures. "Stand under the dome and raise your arms as if you're holding it up," Mike suggested. "We'll call it 'Capitol Muscle' or something." "I think 'Capitol Dome Military Press' has a better ring to it," Andrew said, positioning himself properly for the picture. He grinned as Mike took the picture and then asked, "There now Mike: are you happy now?" "Yes I am Andrew; let's head to the White House now," Mike suggested. "Before we go, take a picture towards the Washington Monument in the distance," Carrie suggested. "It's starting to get dark and it will make a great picture." Mike took the picture and then they made their way down Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House. Once they got there, they found lots of people taking pictures and after a couple of blurry attempts, they decided to cross the street so that they could get a better close-up view. "Good job Carrie; I think you're a better photographer than Mike," Andrew said proudly. "That's because I'm the Yearbook Photographer Andrew," Carrie reminded him with a smug grin as Mike frowned. "Are we finished taking pictures now?" Mike asked impatiently. "Can we get back to the lawn before the crowds leave us no place to sit to watch the fireworks?" "Good point Mike; it's almost sunset," Andrew realized. "And it looks like it's going to rain," he added, as the first drops began to fall. "You'd better use the umbrella in the backpack Carrie," Andrew suggested. "You don't want to get all wet." "What about you and Mike Andrew?" Carrie asked, as she took the fold-up umbrella out of the backpack. "Mike and I will drink in the water of life and it will cleanse us from our exertions over the last two hours," Andrew replied cryptically. "You mean the rain will wash off the sweat you worked up from playing football in the hot sun," Carrie laughed, amused at Andrew's attempt to sound wise and mysterious. "Those were pretty good metaphors you just used Andrew." "Thanks Carrie; sometimes I try to sound wise so that people don't forget that I have brains and not just brawn," Andrew informed her. "I don't think anyone who has seen you today with your shirt off will forget that you have brawn," Carrie assured him, making the understatement of the year. Andrew grinned at her in agreement as they made their way back to their spot near the Hirshhorn Museum, by way of the Washington Monument. ====================================================================================================================================================== Soon after JP and I finished throwing his Navy Frisbee around, the skies began to cloud up and it started to pour. We didn’t bother running for cover, instead letting the warm rain soak our skin, though Chrissy quickly realized she would have a problem. “Shit,” she cried, “I’m wearing a white shirt.” JP and I laughed as I loaned her my dark blue shirt so she could cover up her tits. She gave me a peck on the cheek and said, “Thanks, Matty.” I blushed, nervously looking over at my boyfriend who was sniggering. The sudden downpour didn’t last too long, however, and the sun quickly came out again just before it dipped behind the Washington skyline. JP and I decided to run to a nearby concession stand and get something to eat. As we stood in line, my boyfriend leaned over and whispered in my ear. “I think Chrissy’s starting to have a crush on you now,” he said. I looked at him like he was crazy. “Seriously,” he continued. “She knows I’m not interested in her anymore, so she’s moving on.” JP was always quick at picking these things up – or at least quicker than I. “But, I’m already taken,” I rebutted, looking fondly into his angelic eyes. “What am I going to do?” He grinned. “Welcome to my world,” he said, patting me firmly on the back. ======================================================================================================================================================= Andrew, Carrie and Mike got back to their spot on the lawn and marvelled at the view of the National Mall at dusk. "We should make this an annual event Carrie," Andrew informed his girlfriend. He looked towards the Washington Monument with the dusky sky behind it and added, "It's very relaxing here in DC, even on July 4th." "I agree Andrew," Carrie said, snuggling up against the massive chest of her boyfriend. "Plenty of eye candy too." "What do you mean?" Andrew asked her. "Did you see the guy to our left making spectacular dives to catch the Navy Frisbee his friend threw him a couple of hours ago?" "Yeah I did, before we got our pictures of the Capitol Building and the White House, " Andrew replied, smiling at the memory. "He's really athletic and muscular, and he's the same guy we saw on the train. I'm trying to figure out how to introduce myself to him, but I can't think of a good way to do it." He looked over to their left and realized something. "I don't see him now, or his brother, just his girlfriend lone on the blanket to our left." Then his eyes narrowed as he saw something that demanded his immediate attention. He stood up with his fists clenched and glared over to his left. "What is it Andrew?" Carrie asked him, standing up beside him. "Trouble," Andrew replied through gritted teeth. "Stay here Carrie; we'll be right back. Come on Mike." Carrie knew better than to argue with that tone of voice and she stayed behind as Andrew and Mike headed over to stop the troubling scene about to unfold. But as they soon found out, their intervention would prove unnecessary. ====================================================================================================================================================== It was almost dark by the time we headed back to our spot on the lawn. As we approached, JP grabbed my elbow, stopping me in my tracks. I looked at him puzzled, but he was staring grimly in Chrissy’s direction. She was lying on the blanket as two brawny college-aged jocks stalked toward her unseen, eyeing her schemingly. They were about to hit on her…and it was obvious that these guys were the type that would not take no for an answer. The bigger one must have outweighed me by at least 60 or 70 pounds – though a lot of it probably was fat – and the smaller one wasn’t much smaller. Their broad chests filled their wife-beaters to a near-ripping state, their arms thick with bulk. Cautiously, we snuck closer to within earshot. “Hey, baby,” the larger of the two nagged, startling Chrissy. “You alone tonight?” She craned her head up indignantly. “No,” she snapped firmly but calmly, “I’m with two guys who could knock you both out without a fight.” I gulped. Please tell me she’s bluffing, I thought. This only seemed to amuse them. “Really?” the other one retorted. “Well, I don’t see them around right now. You need someone to cuddle with?” “Don’t you even think about it!” I heard a deep voice bellow from behind me. It was JP, an intense fire bolting from his eyes, his muscles twitching with fury. The remaining twilight reflected off his body and buzzed head so magnificently, he was downright intimidating. The smaller guy’s mouth dropped open slightly when he sighted the kid, but the other guy remained unfazed. “This pretty boy is your boyfriend,” he smirked, peering at him assertively. “No,” JP returned without missing a beat, “but I am your worst nightmare.” It was the way he said those words that sent a chill down my spine. The older jock scoffed. “You wanna fight me? Us two against you two?” My heart was pounding and my knees were wobbling. What was JP doing? He couldn’t possibly be enticing the guys to fight us. Though I knew my boyfriend could take this guy, I was certain I’d be dead against the other. I froze. Arrogantly, the bigger dude sauntered up to JP who stood his ground, not moving a muscle. The two jocks were standing eyeball to eyeball, their beefy chests almost touching each other. The jerk slowly raised his fist, an egotistical sneer spreading across his face. That’s when JP struck. In the blink of an eye, JP pounced and expertly twisted his opponent’s arm behind his back, making him yelp in pain. Before he even had a chance to respond, the jerk’s head was forced back over his shoulder by JP’s other arm so that he looked him straight through the eyes. The guy had no choice but to look back as JP shot him his debilitating look of death. “You sure you wanna mess with me?” my boyfriend hissed. His challenger merely gagged in reply, JP’s powerful forearm practically crushing his windpipe. He realized he didn’t have a prayer with the champion wrestler who could, with one quick snap of his neck, take away his life. JP gave him one more squeeze and, as quickly as he had put his opponent in the position, he threw him out of it, leaving him coughing and sputtering on the ground. I stood there stunned. Other than during a wrestling match, never before had I seen him attack someone. It simply wasn’t a contest. The other guy may have weighed more, but he couldn’t match JP’s amazing strength and quickness. His friend helped him off the ground and the two hurried away, afraid to even look at the younger kid again. Immediately, Chrissy ran up and threw her arms around JP. “Oh my God, JP,” she exclaimed, her fingers barely able to fully grasp his huge shoulders, “that was so brave of you! Thanks!” Then, she gave him a big kiss on the cheek. JP merely shrugged and blushed a deep red. “Wait ‘till my brother hears about this.” JP looked back at her, smiling, happy to change the subject. “Nick’s coming to the wrestling camp this summer, right?” Chrissy nodded. “Are you kidding?” she answered. Her little brother Nick was 12 years old and was going to be in seventh grade the next school year. And like many boys in our area, he idolized JP. According to Chrissy, her brother had clipped out every newspaper article about his hero during wrestling season and had been bugging her to take him to a match. As soon as he heard that JP, along with the help of his coaches, was organizing a one-week summer wrestling camp for middle school kids, he instantly jumped at the chance and persuaded his parents to sign him up. Now, he was counting down the days until it started. “He wants to be just like you when he grows up,” Chrissy gushed. “Well, the great JP Maloney makes one helluva role model,” I added, patting my boyfriend on his wide back. "He certainly does," a very deep voice agreed from their right. JP and I looked over to where the voice came from and our jaws dropped. ======================================================================================================================================================= Andrew smirked slightly at the look of shock on both guys' faces. Then the bigger guy in the light blue tank top narrowed his eyes at Andrew, and asked him, "You want to try to mess with me too?" "No man," Andrew assured him, slightly intimidated by the guy's intensity, even though he outweighed him by about 100 pounds. "I just wanted to congratulate you on how well you took care of those two jerks. If someone tried anything like that with my girlfriend, I would have reacted the same way. I was about to intervene to help your girlfriend out but you got there first." "He's right JP," the girl said. "He was coming over to help me before you showed up; that's why I felt brave enough to tell those two jerks to go away." "Thanks man," JP said gratefully, calming down now that he knew the huge red-haired guy wasn't going to cause any trouble. "It's good to know that there are still some good guys left, instead of just jerks." He walked over to Andrew and held out his hand. "I'm JP Maloney of Central High School." "I thought you looked familiar," Andrew said, shaking JP's hand. "I've seen your picture in the Washington papers. I'm Andrew Pearson from Orillia District High School." "Andrew Pearson: the YouTube Football Star?" JP asked him with raised eyebrows. "You've heard of me?" Andrew asked him in surprise. "Yeah man; you're famous, at least online," JP informed him. "You must be really smart, using a new video-sharing website to get the attention of the NCAA Recruiters that way." "Yeah man," Andrew agreed, unconsciously mimicking his new friend's speech patterns. "But to prove it, I'd better remember to introduce my friends to you. The big guy with brown hair beside me is Mike and the girl beside him is my girlfriend Carrie." "Pleased to meet you Carrie," JP said, shaking her hand gently. He turned to Mike and shook his hand firmly. "What's up man?" "My height and weight relative to yours," Mike replied, realizing that he outweighed JP by more than 100 pounds of solid muscle. "You're right about that man," JP agreed. "But I'll get big like you one day." "I'm sure you will JP," his friend agreed. He stepped forward with his hand outstretched. "I'm Matt Anderson: JP's best friend." And more than that, JP thought, as Mike and Andrew shook Matt's hand. Then Carrie and Chrissy shook hands and introduced themselves. "Since all introductions have been made, would you and your friends like to watch the fireworks with us?" JP asked Andrew. "It's the least I can do since you were ready to help Chrissy before I got there." "Thanks man; we'd love to," Andrew replied, after Mike and Carrie nodded in agreement. "Mike: go bring our blanket and bag over here." "Yes sir!" Mike shouted jokingly, saluting Andrew as he ran to their spot on the lawn to the right of JP's group. "Mike did that salute pretty well; is he in the military?" JP asked Andrew. "No, but his older brother is and so am I," Andrew replied quietly. "Thank you for your service Andrew," JP said gratefully, clapping Andrew on the shoulder. "Thank you for your support JP," Andrew said gratefully. "You're welcome man," JP said. "Now, since you're military, I bet you can guess what my initials stand for." "I can guess John Paul, but that's it," Andrew informed him. "Were you named after someone famous?" "Yes: John Paul Jones: the U.S. Naval Hero," JP replied proudly. "And you are a hero as well man," Andrew assured him proudly. "What you did to that guy who was bugging Chrissy proved that conclusively." "Thanks man," JP said gratefully. His face turned angry as he added, "But it wasn't just heroics that made me do that." "What do you mean man?" Andrew asked him quietly, leading JP away from their friends. "Or would you prefer I don't ask?" "No, it's okay Andrew; even though we just met, I know I can trust you to keep this quiet," JP assured him. He waited for Andrew's nod of agreement before he continued. "I saw my older brother's face in my mind as I had my arm around the throat of that guy." "I see; you have some transference issues with a former mentor who turned against you," Andrew said with a sudden look of understanding. "How did you figure that out?" JP asked in astonishment; amazed that Andrew could read his mind so exactly. "My former best friend Steve used to be my mentor as I started working out," Andrew revealed. "But when I exceeded him in size and strength, his jealously revealed itself as he started bashing my proteges: like Mike there." "I can't imagine why anyone would bash someone as big as Mike," JP said with a faint look of fear on his face. "He's as big as you and you must be at least 6 foot 6 and 300 pounds of solid muscle!" "6 foot 7 and 305 pounds actually," Andrew said. "Mike and I are the exact same height and weight; pretty amazing considering he was just 5 feet tall and 80 pounds when I started training him in the fall of 1998." He noticed JP's look of astonishment and decided to switch topics. "But enough about me: let's throw my Miami football around for a few minutes and you can tell me all about your older brother." "Good idea man," JP agreed, as Andrew signalled Mike to throw him the football. He smiled as Mike threw the ball with a perfect spiral and Andrew caught it effortlessly with one hand. "You and Mike make a good team Andrew." "I should hope so; we got our team to the Provincial Championship last season," Andrew remembered. "Unfortunately our team lost, but this year we'll win!" "I'm sure you will Andrew," JP agreed, smiling at his new friend with pride in his eyes. "Have you found that your success has cost you personally like mine has?" "Yeah man," Andrew replied sadly, as he turned away to look towards the Washington Monument. "My best friend of five years turned against me after I beat up the class bully, and we've barely spoken since. It sucked man, and it still hurts almost seven years later." "I know exactly how you feel man," JP said, stepping forward to lay a hand on Andrew's massive shoulder. He was amazed that he and Andrew had encountered such similar problems as they had achieved great athletic success. "My older brother Ryan turned against me once I got close to his size and strength, which is very ironic since he was the one who taught me how to work out in the first place." "That's too bad man," Andrew said, turning around and patting JP's shoulder gently. He looked back at their group and noticed Matt smiling proudly. "But it looks like you've found a new older brother in your best friend Matt." "Yeah, Matt's been great to me over the last couple of years," JP agreed. "He's really filled the void in my life that Ryan created when he walked away." He left out the part about Matt being his boyfriend; not sure that Andrew would understand. "Anyway, enough talk Andrew; time for some football." "Good idea man," Andrew agreed, lifting up his football. "Go long man; let's see how much you've learned." More than you know man, JP thought smugly, remembering fondly how Ryan had played football with him when he was younger. He jogged further down the lawn; closer to the Capitol Building. He stopped in a part of the lawn clear of people but then noticed everyone around him staring at his ripped muscles in awe. JP smirked and thought, Just wait until you see the size of the guy who throws me the football! JP held up his hands to let Andrew know that he was ready to catch the football, but then he had to dive back to catch it because Andrew threw it too far. Man, he's scary strong; I wouldn't want to get on his bad side! JP thought in astonishment and a little fear. I'm just glad that he wasn't the one bugging Chrissy; I wouldn't have been able to scare him away! "Wow, you're really strong Andrew!" JP shouted to his new friend. "What are your stats anyway?" "Six foot seven, 305 lbs, 25 inch biceps and a one-rep max bench of 880 pounds," Andrew replied smugly, crossing his huge arms over his massive chest. Everyone around him, friends and strangers alike, turned to stare at him in awe. Andrew grinned and waved at his new fans; then he flexed his massive biceps and laughed. "Yeah, it's all true everyone, as you can see on MySpace. Just look up Andrew the Tank and you'll find all my pictures!" JP's jaw had dropped along with all the onlookers, but he managed to close his mouth as Andrew turned back to look at him with a cocky smirk. "Are you going to hold that football until it gets completely dark JP?" Andrew teased him. JP shook his head with a sheepish grin and tossed the football back to Andrew in a perfect spiral. "Those stats are really impressive man," he congratulated his big friend, grinning as Andrew caught his catch with just one hand. "You must be a god on the football field." "Yeah I am man," Andrew agreed with a smug grin. "Want to see me catch my own thrown football?" "Yeah man and I'll catch it all on video to show my friends later," JP said, getting out his digital camera. He looked at the screen, after turning it on, and added, "Just stay in the light of the street lamps Andrew and I'll be able to catch everything." "Hey, who do you think you are, giving me orders Little Man?" Andrew sneered with an arrogant grin. He chuckled at JP's sudden look of fear and added, "I was just kidding man; don't get scared." "I wasn't scared Andrew," JP bluffed, hoping that no one besides Andrew had seen the look of fear on his face. "I just thought you were serious, that's all." "I understand," Andrew assured him, meaning that he knew how important maintaining the image of a fearless jock was when one was big and strong. "Are you ready JP?" "I'm ready Andrew," JP replied, turning the knob to video and pressing the record button. "Show me what you've got Big Brother," he blurted out without thinking, wishing Andrew was Ryan. "Okay Little Brother; get ready to be amazed!" Andrew shouted, realizing that he regarded JP as a protege just like he did Mike. Andrew coked his arm back and threw his football high above the treetops. He then ran down the mall towards the Capitol Building and turned to see his football curving down over the treetops. Andrew adjusted his course laterally to intercept it and caught it neatly in his arms. "Yeah!" Andrew shouted in excitement, spiking the ball and flexing his massive biceps. "Now that's how it's done!" Everyone around Andrew who had witnessed his amazing feat clapped and cheered for him, causing Andrew's face to turn red with embarrassment. JP grinned as he approached the crowd gathering around his new 'big brother', pleased that Andrew was acting humble instead of cocky. Wait until I show this video to my friends, JP thought to himself. If Andrew agrees, I may even post it on that new video-sharing site called YouTube! Then his great football skills could reach even more college recruiters! As JP reached the edges of the crowd, his admiration for Andrew grew as he saw his big friend patiently signing autographs, posing for pictures and giving some smaller guys workout tips. If only Ryan was like that instead of being a cocky jerk! JP thought angrily. Then he would be worthy of the Big Brother title like Andrew is! Andrew looked up from signing autographs and noticed JP suddenly looking very sad. He whistled to catch JP's attention and when JP looked up, he said, "Join me in the center of the crowd man." Everyone turned to see who Andrew was motioning at, and their jaws dropped as they saw JP's incredible musculature. JP suddenly became very embarrassed as everyone started asking him for pictures, autographs and workout tips. "Did you tell everyone about my success last year in wrestling?" JP asked Andrew once the crowd of fans had finally dispersed. "I didn't have to man; once I mentioned your name, everyone knew who you were already," Andrew replied. He looked down at JP with a brotherly grin as he added, "You're famous man." "Well, perhaps in this town anyway," JP muttered, suddenly embarrassed. "But you're famous all over this continent man; thanks to your YouTube videos! With your permission, I'd like to post that video of you catching your own thrown football for the US college football coaches to see. Then you'll be recruited even more than you have been! As a Canadian, you're going to need that kind of cutting-edge digital exposure to be noticed enough by the NCAA to be offered a full football scholarship!" "Ok JP, you've made your point, with lots of big words no less," Andrew teased him. As they began walking back to their friends in the center of the National Mall, he asked, "How high is your IQ man?" "Just shy of genius level, so about 150," JP admitted. "Mine's the same as yours man," Andrew realized. "Maybe that's why we're able to carry on an intelligent conversation instead of just carrying a football." "But right now, you're carrying a football Andrew, so what does that say about your intelligence?" JP teased him. "It says that I'm a smart jock, not a dumb one, because I'm actually able to speak entire sentences JP," Andrew reminded him with a smirk. "But if you really want me to act like a dumb jock, I'm sure I could learn." "That's not necessary Andrew; there's already one dumb jock in my life; I don't need another," JP said bitterly, clenching his fists as he thought about what a big jerk Ryan had turned into over the past couple of years. "I'm not going to turn out like my brother; I'm aiming higher in life than just college sports." "Well you have good aim so far JP," Andrew commended him as they made their way down the path shaded by the tall trees. As they skirted their way around the Washington Monument fence, he added, "You'd be great at football man, but from what I saw earlier, wrestling is your first love." Matt is my first love, JP thought, smiling at the thought of the wonderful summer he was going to have with his boyfriend. "Wrestling was my first love Andrew, but once I found Matt, I found someone I could really love," JP said without thinking. "Yeah, I understand what it's like to love someone like a brother," Andrew said, completely missing JP's slip. "I can see that you look at Matt as a substitute for your brother Ryan." "As I do with you now Andrew, " JP blurted out, feeling like he'd known Andrew for years. Andrew's jaw dropped in astonishment and JP hurriedly explained: "It's been really hard not having a mentor for the past couple of years man; I guess I just admire you a lot for not acting like a cocky jerk just because you're great at football." "No problem JP," Andrew assured him, once he realized what JP was trying to say. "I don't mind being your 'Honorary Big Brother' as you prepare for your college career. I'm only a phone call or email away and my hometown of Orillia is only a day's drive from here." "Thanks for being my 'Honorary Big Brother' Andrew," JP said gratefully. "I'm hoping to get a wrestling scholarship to Ohio State so that I can stay with Matt. Of course, since he's one year older than me, like you are, this is the last year we'll have together." "I know what that's like man; my friend Mark Stevenson gets a full football scholarship to Miami this fall," Andrew said. "I'll really miss him man, just as I'm sure you'll miss Matt when he goes to college in a year." He noticed what looked like a hint of tears in JP's eyes and suddenly realized that Matt and JP were more than just brothers to each other. But instead of sharing his sudden insight with his new friend, Andrew asked, "Has Ohio State recruited you yet JP?" "No man, but since I'm just going into my Junior Year, it won't be long until they do," JP predicted with a cocky smirk. "Have you visited the campus yet?" Andrew asked. "No man; why do you ask?" JP asked curiously. "I'm going to Ohio State in a few days for a recruiting visit," Andrew replied. "I know we just met, and we should ask your parents first, but would you and Matt like to come with me?" JP's jaw dropped in astonishment, amazed that Andrew (a stranger one hour ago) was proposing a road trip. But then he saw Andrew's serious look and realized that he had found a new mentor to replace his big brother Ryan. Andrew is the big brother I wish Ryan still was, JP realized. I see now that guys don't have to be related to be brothers. "That would be great Andrew," JP said, once he could speak again. He stepped closer to his new friend and motioned him to bend down. Andrew did so and JP whispered in his ear, "You're really filling the void that Ryan left when he walked away from me Andrew. I never told Matt this, but it sucked having to work out by myself without a mentor around. And even though he has been emotionally absent for the past year, this fall Ryan will be physically absent as well, since he's going off to Virginia Tech. So I have no one left to look up to. But now I can look up to you as a big brother, just like I once did with Ryan." "I'm only an email or phone call away JP," Andrew reminded him, pulling out his flip phone so that he could give JP his cell number. "And since I'm physically present, not absent, you can look up to me right now." JP chuckled as Andrew straightened up to his full height and crossed his huge arms over his massive chest. Andrew grinned at him smugly and added, "I love mentoring the little guys like-" "Little?!" JP interrupted, his cockiness suddenly returning. He flexed his 16 inch bicep and sneered, "Does this look little to you Andrew?" "Yes it does, compared to mine JP," Andrew informed him sternly, flexing his massive 25 inch bicep. JP's cocky smirk vanished quickly and Andrew nodded in satisfaction. "Remember JP, you may be the big man at your school, but then there's college and the real world to consider." JP nodded in sudden understanding, realizing that his new friend Andrew was only one of many men out there who were bigger and stronger than he was. "I'm going to tell you how my dad's cockiness prematurely ended his NFL career JP; then you'll understand why you should be more modest and humble in public." JP nodded soberly and Andrew began telling him the story about how his dad had given in to all the hype and started drinking and driving fast during his NFL career. That carefree attitude led to the car accident that shattered Chad's kneecap, tore his ACL and ended his NFL days forever. Then Chad had to crawl back to Orillia and start from the bottom of his boss's company as a Management Intern. JP's eyes widened in understanding as Andrew told him the story and he realized that his big brother could be headed for a rude awakening as well. But I'll be the one that causes it, JP thought to himself. His fists clenched as he remembered his first reason for working out: to beat up his brother one day. JP had no idea how prophetic that goal would become and how it would change both his and Ryan's lives forever. It was just about completely dark by the time Andrew and JP got back to their friends sitting on the lawn, where they had an unobstructed view of the Washington Monument. It's about time you got back here Andrew; Mike had to fill in for you," Carrie teased him. "I hope not Carrie; you only have one boyfriend and that's me," Andrew growled, glaring at Mike. JP felt as nervous as Mike looked and Carrie had to assure Andrew that she and Mike were just friends. Matt and Chrissy looked really nervous too, and JP suddenly realized that they had looked just like that as he had held that guy in a wrestling hold barely half an hour earlier. JP scratched the back of his shaved head, embarrassed that he had allowed his bad feelings about Ryan to make him lash out like that. I've got to let Matt know later why I did that, JP realized. I hope he understands like Andrew did. He breathed a sigh of relief along with everyone else when Andrew's angry look faded into a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that guys," Andrew apologized. "I guess I was just afraid that some guys would try to cause trouble with you like they did with Chrissy earlier." "What JP did to those guys is nothing compared to what you could do Andrew," Carrie reminded him. "You could have snapped their necks like twigs!" "You'd better tell everyone your idea Andrew, before the fireworks start," JP said suddenly, anxious to change the subject. "Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me man," Andrew said gratefully, slapping his new friend on the shoulder. JP concealed a wince as Andrew quickly told Carrie and Mike his idea about Matt and JP coming along on their Ohio State Recruiting Visit. "What do you think Carrie?" "It sounds great, especially since Mike and I got a chance to know Matt and Chrissy while you and JP were playing football," Carrie replied. "Good, then it's all settled except for the timing," Andrew realized. He turned to JP and said, "We're staying in the Washington area for another day before leaving on the 6th. Is that good for you and Matt?" "Yes Andrew; that should give you guys enough time to meet my parents and Matt's mom to get their permission," JP replied. Andrew looked embarrassed that he hadn't thought of that. "Don't feel bad that you forgot about that step Andrew; I think my dad will approve of you. He's really upset that Ryan took off this summer on a road trip instead of being around to mentor me; he'll be glad I've found a new mentor." "Anything I can do to help man," Andrew said quietly, feeling sobered by the fact that JP held him in such high esteem. But then he realized that JP would never have told him so much while they were alone if he didn't trust him implicitly. "I'll be there for you as much as I can JP, even when I'm away at college. As I've told you twice before now, I'm only a phone call or email away." JP grinned at his big friend, but he also felt sad that it wasn't Ryan saying those things. Where did I go wrong with Ryan? JP asked himself. Have I lost my brother forever? He should be here, sharing one last Independence Day at home with me instead of Andrew having to fill his role as my big brother! JP was distracted from his sad thoughts by the first fireworks going off and he let his cares drift away as he enjoyed the view with his friends and new 'Big Brother.' "The second one looked just like a side profile of Abraham Lincoln!" Carrie shouted in astonishment. "Do you think it was deliberately launched that way?" "I don't know Carrie, but if Mike's been taking pictures, we can find out later," Andrew replied, looking over at his big friend. Mike held up the digital camera to let Andrew know that he wasn't missing anything. "For now Carrie, let's be quiet and enjoy the show." Carrie nodded in agreement and leaned back into Andrew's massive chest. She smiled as Andrew's muscular arms folded around her gently and she realized that there was nowhere she's rather be than in the arms of her boyfriend. ===================================================================================================================================================== The rest of that night was amazing. I couldn’t stop myself from looking over at JP as the fireworks illuminated his flawless face, the different colors reflecting in his dazzling eyes. Every now and then, he would glance over at me and smile. A tear rolled down my cheek. I was so overwhelmed by his beauty and his love for me. How the hell did I get so lucky? Chrissy’s head was leaning on my lap, but I found myself wishing it were JP’s instead. I wanted him near me every minute of the day. ====================================================================================================================================================== Once the fireworks were over around 10 pm, the crowds began clearing out of the National Mall. "I'm not ready to go home yet; what about you guys?" JP asked his new friends. "I'd like to see the Lincoln Memorial," Andrew replied. When his friends nodded in agreement, he asked JP, "Would you and your friends like to join us?" "We'd be glad to Andrew," JP replied, as Matt and Chrissy nodded in agreement. "If you look beyond the Washington Monument, you can see the Lincoln Memorial from here." Andrew and his friends looked to the west and saw that JP was right. Mike took a picture as everyone admired the view. "There, now that we've seen the Lincoln Memorial, we can go home," Matt said impatiently, eager to be alone with JP. "I think Andrew meant to see it up close, as well as inside Matt," JP reminded his boyfriend with a frown. Andrew nodded in agreement and JP smirked at his boyfriend. "See, I told you Matt!" "Okay JP, I give up: we'll see Lincoln up close," Matt sighed. "Then can we go home?" "Yeah we can Matt," JP agreed, realizing that Matt was eager to be alone with him. He led his friends across the street to the path that led to the western end of the National Mall. Everyone admired the view as they walked down the path on the north side of the Tidal Basin. Andrew made sure to take a picture of the Korean War Memorial, since his deceased grandfather had fought in that war as well as World War II. The six friends finally reached the Lincoln Memorial and saw lots of people climbing the stairs, even though it was after 10:30 pm. "Quite a crowd JP," Andrew commented. "I never expected to see so many people at this monument at this time of night." "Abraham Lincoln was arguably the most famous president in our nation's history Andrew," JP reminded his big friend. "And this memorial has been the sight of many famous events since it was constructed. That's why it draws such big crowds at all times: about six million people per year." "I understand JP," Andrew said soberly, realizing the great pride JP felt for his country. "Can we go inside now?" "Sure Andrew," JP agreed, feeling sheepish that he had soured the good mood they had been enjoying most of the evening. "Follow me man; I'll get us through the crowds." Andrew and his friends followed JP up the stairs into the Lincoln Memorial and made their way through the crowds until they could get a good shot of Abraham Lincoln sitting on his chair. "That was a very good picture Mike; especially since you caught the words about Lincoln's memory being enshrined forever," Andrew commended his friend. "Thanks Andrew; I thought you'd appreciate that, considering the events of seven months ago," Mike replied. Andrew glared at Mike at first, remembering that his grandfather had died a year before a few weeks before Christmas, but then he realized that Mike had been trying in his own way to honour Bert Pearson's memory. "Thanks man; I do appreciate it," Andrew assured him, his glare fading into a sad smile as he put a gentle hand on Mike's shoulder. JP asked him what was wrong as they headed back towards the Washington Monument and Andrew told him about his war veteran grandfather: who had served in World War II and Korea during his 20 years of service in the Canadian Forces. After Andrew finished the story, JP realized that he shared a deeper kinship with his new friend than he had first thought: considering that both their grandfathers had served in the military. The group of six friends had reached the Washington Monument by then, and they got a good close-up shot. "Well, it's been great getting to know you JP, but we should get back to our hotel now," Andrew said, checking his watch. "It's almost 11:30." "If you came with us on the Metro, we can drop you off at the Pentagon City Station and then you'll have a much shorter walk back to your hotel," JP offered. "I have an idea of what we can do tomorrow." Andrew looked over at Carrie and Mike, who nodded in agreement. He looked back at JP and said, "Good idea man; thanks for thinking of that." "I'm a little surprised that you didn't Andrew," JP teased him, as they began walking to the L'Enfant Plaza Metro Station. "It's not because I'm not smart like you JP; it's because I'm from out of town," Andrew reminded him with a mock glare. When he saw JP trying not to look scared, Andrew laughed and assured him, "I'm just kidding man; we never would have had such a great Fourth of July if we hadn't met you and your friends!" Mike and Carrie grinned and nodded in agreement and JP breathed a sigh of relief. When he thought back to the one bad incident of the evening, he realized that if those two college jocks hadn't harassed Chrissy, he would never have met Andrew: his new mentor and substitute Big Brother. I wouldn't have traded this evening for anything, JP thought to himself, very pleased that he had once again found someone he could look up to. He hoped that with Andrew's help, he could one day repair his relationship with his older brother, though he suspected it would get worse before it would get better. About half an hour later, Andrew and his friends said goodbye to JP and his friends, agreeing to meet them the next afternoon at Burke Lake Park: a large park near JP's house. "Thanks for a wonderful day at the National Mall JP," Andrew said, as he stepped off the train at Pentagon City Station. "See you at Burke Lake Park tomorrow. Call me when you're ready to meet." "No problem man," JP said, holding the doors open as Mike and Carrie stepped off to stand beside Andrew on the platform. "Thanks for the wonderful opportunity to see Ohio State in a few days with you and your friends. Have a good night Andrew." "You're welcome man," Andrew said, as the doors began to close. "See you tomorrow 'Little Brother'." The doors closed before JP could reply and he quickly raised his hand to wave goodbye to Andrew. As the train pulled away from the platform, JP wished more than anything that he was waving to his true big brother Ryan. Please let me know what you think and if I did justice to the JP Character and his innermost thoughts, a point of view that I can't remember being shown before in either the JP or Nick stories. Note: I will gradually transfer the illustrated version of the story onto my website: http://seanspictures.webs.com. All the pictures will come from my trip to Washington DC on July 3rd, 2011.
  23. Hello gents, I hope you enjoy the last chapter of this story. I have included links to the first two parts for your convenience. Some suggested that this was easier than posting all parts in one long piece. See. I listen. Once more, I would love our comments. Enjoy the ride. SeaMusc ==================================================================================== Part I: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5028-the-impossible-discovery/ Part II: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5099-the-impossible-discovery-part-ii/ ==================================================================================== Part III The car pulled away from the parking lot. They were both grateful for the Jeep Wrangler they had purchased last year. It at least allowed for the top to be taken off providing Will’s mass to fit uncomfortably inside. Even with the passenger seat pushed all the way back, with Will’s new height and added mass his knees were bunched up almost touching the bottoms of the huge bags that were his pecs. His shoulder jutted out of the side window although he wasn’t leaning. The fantastical lats that had developed seemed to just naturally jut out of his torso at the right height and flowed out of the window where they smashed into the rippling globe of his tri-headed delt. A kiss of veins, as detailed as fine Maltese lace spread webs of intricate patterns over the surface of Will’s body. Skye thought it amazing that someone so unfathomably strong and powerful had such beautiful detail. Looking at him from at distance, you would only see an impossibly muscular and tall behemoth, but if you looked from arms length, the true artistry of Will’s body could be seen in its refinement. Skye looked at Will’s arm pressing up against Skye’s body from the lack of room in the Jeep—his shoulder and triceps were pushing directly into Skye and it felt warm. He was also shocked at the hardness of what he was feeling. It was not human flesh, or at least not the flesh that he knew as human. It was something more. Something forged of a different substance. More like warm movable ironwood. He looked down at Will’s giant hand resting on his own muscular thigh and couldn’t believe the feelings coursing through his body. He wanted Will without any consideration or hesitation, like two attracting sides of magnets. It was sexual. It was sensual. It was beyond those things though. It was a marriage of companionship and partnership. Will had forced himself into the seat of the Jeep and realized that it wouldn’t allow for much more growth, but that was not a concern. When he got too big, he would find other ways to travel--like in a personal bus or something bigger. For now, he loved how the confined space smashed him up against his demi-god fiancé. Although he had the size and strength, Skye had the beauty of something otherworldly. That along with his incomparable mind, Skye matched Will’s strength in different ways. There had never been a more devastating example of brains and brawn and Will knew it. Together they were unstoppable. They didn’t look at each other at all after getting in the vehicle. Will’s hand on Skye’s knee and Skye’s head nudging against Will’s shoulder was enough. Nothing was said. They just felt each other’s space, breathed in each other’s air, completely content. Walking up the stairs to their apartment home, Will followed Skye up. His face firmly planted in Skye’s backside, smelling the scent of his manhood. Smelling his musk and the singular scent of a well cleaned hole, earthy and delicious. He wanted to take up residence there; to have his face fighting for real estate on Skye’s beautiful ass. He followed that scent up the three flights of stairs lead only by his nose. It was too powerful to open his eyes. He would lose control. They both knew that once inside, they would both take off the brakes and be thrust upon a sea of overwhelming passion that would not be contained easily. Skye unlocked the solid wooden door and walked in, carrying the small bag of Will’s belongings. Will, for his part, had to turn slightly sideways to walk through the door frame. He was too wide and thick to make it through straight on. He shut the door behind him and just stood there, watching Skye. Neither of them knew what to do. The first move was up in the air, and as much as they loved each other, there was a certain awkwardness about the next step. They were both so different now. Skye was more independent, more in control, more beautiful, and more ripped. Will was more outwardly alpha, more subservient to Skye, and a fucking massive giant. Underneath it all, they were the same men, and they knew it. But there would need to be a moment of adjustment, as if they were also meeting for the first time. The sentiment of their affection was there, more powerful than ever, but the situation had changed. It took a few seconds of sizing each other up before Skye walked a few steps toward the tower of masculinity that was Will. He walked right up to the beast and his face was only an inch away from the deep ravine of Will’s bloated pecs. He stared up those few inches and whispered, “I missed you.” He spread out his own broad arms and embraced Will gently. His arms barely were wide enough to start to feel Will’s lats because of the massiveness of his chest. For his part, Will just nodded and as Skye hugged him, he simply raised his arm and wrapped it around the shoulder of his best friend and lover. The felt each other’s warmth for a few moments and then Skye took Will’s hand and lead him to the bedroom. They sat down for a brief moment on their bed. Will took Skye’s hand, extended one of his inhumanly sized fingers, and placed it on Skye’s twine ring. “Remember when you proposed, Will? Remember that night? I thought I could never be more in love with you. I thought that it couldn’t get better. But somehow, some way, I feel you as a part of me even more than that night. I didn’t think it was possible to feel someone more. Will, something happened to us while we were apart. Something glorious and incredible. I can’t hear your heartbeat, but I can “feel” it. I can’t read your mind, but I know what you are thinking. I feel that somehow, you are a part of me…a part of my body and mind. I don’t know how to explain it. I have tried to explain it to myself. It’s like trying to explain to someone why they feel that they need to breath: it just is.” He paused a moment. “I am so proud of you, Will. You kept your composure and you owned that place from the beginning. You became something more than you were previously. You became the master of your domain. You have no masters now.” “Except for you.” Will looked up with huge eyes at Skye’s face. “You are more than a master. You are a creator. Now I know how those religious zealots feel. Enraptured with their god to the point of insanity. That is how I feel about you.” Sitting on the edge of the bed together holding hands and Will’s arm around Skye, the titan simply bent his head to the side and rested it on his partner’s shoulder and silence settled into the room. Inside, fireworks were exploding, his skin felt waves of orgasmic energy, his enormous bull balls churned and buzzed with activity. His mind was on fire. His heart rate was increasing. His breaths were becoming steadily deeper and steadily faster. He was giving himself to Skye mentally and physically. Because of his brain’s remodeling, there was little difference between the two for him. His body was reacting because his brain was reacting. Touching Skye was enough to cause tsunami’s of lust and longing to be released into Will’s mind, which in turn forced a physical response. He could feel veins wriggling to the surface and muscles gorging themselves on nutrients and oxygen to fuel their immense need for energy. Will had learned to control the outward expression of these sensations, but he knew that Skye’s words and touch were moments away from unleashing a more improved, more massive Will. His cock snaked across the top of his jock, spitting sweet precum as a lubricant for its ever-lengthening march across his skin. Skye understood implicitly how Will’s body was about to undergo another spurt of growth. He was willing it, sending out powerful emotive waves to Will through his soft caresses and naughty thoughts. “Will, you are holding back. You don’t have to hide here. You know that. Let yourself go. You will never be too big for me. Remove that thought from your mind. Let your body do what it needs to and don’t fight it anymore. You are MINE, kind sir. Always. Forever.” Will pulled his head up from Skye’s well-muscled shoulder and looked directly into his eyes from only a couple of inches away. Their hot breath was all over each other: warm, wet, full of hunger. “I am ready, Skye. I want to grow for you.” “Then let go, Big Man. There are no judgments here. And when you are done with this spurt, I am ready to give you more than you though possible.” Will laid his head back down on Skye’s shoulder and his breath rate picked up. He was almost panting within the span of just a couple of minutes. Skye reached his arm up and placed his hand on the back of Will’s head, giving him comfort. He was beginning to moan, long, deep, and steady. A low rumble full of power and masculinity was streaming out of his thick throat. “Will, does it hurt?” “No. It feels incredible. Just hold me. I can feel it coming.” He struggled for breath and Skye noticed large beads of sweat beginning for form on his brow. The smaller man continued to hold his hand on Will’s head, stroking him gently as a mother would do to a newborn to calm him down. A moan emerged from the giant. He picked his head up and looked Skye straight in the eyes, only inches away from each other. “Put your hands on me. I want you to feel this. Wait…hold on.” Will stood up quickly and tore his tight white t-shirt off in one easy rip. Skye’s mouth fell to the floor. He hadn’t seen Will without a shirt since he had been taken. He was in complete awe of the creature in front of him, trembling, moaning. To say that he looked like a buff anime character come to life would not be exaggerating. Lumps of flesh extended themselves away from Will’s body with violent knobs and ravines of hardness jostling for limited space. It looked as if the mass of meat underneath his skin was attempting to escape; yet somehow, he knew that this was Will’s new relaxed state. He had become so muscular; Skye was having trouble distinguishing typical anatomical landmarks. Joints and bone that are usually exposed, even in the most massive bodybuilders were buried under layers and layers of animated musculature. Fuck, he was ripped and huge beyond description. And he was ready to grow again. The beast extended his meaty paw to his jeans and tore them off in one easy stroke. If Will’s upper body had been jaw-dropping, his legs and ass would cause a full on seizure to any admirer of muscle. Enormous muscular feet supported calves that appeared to be related to two large Easter hams, but much more angular and sharp. Even the muscle running in front of his shin bone appeared to have been injected with some terribly successful muscle fertilizer. His quads had long thick muscles extending from the waist to the knee, all of them as thick and heavy as a normal man’s arm. The thick beef on his legs pulsed and danced at Will’s slightest movement. The veins that typically are seen on very ripped, lean, dedicated competition-class men would seem childish compared to the vasculature on Will’s lower half. Garden hose sized vessels rode atop the living stone they fed. Skye could see the rhythmic beat of blood coursing through those veins as they quivered ever second, at the behest of Will’s heart. Will, happy with his state of undress turned to sit back on the bed. Skye shot him a devious look. “No, Will. Take it all off.” Will returned the evil smile and popped the waistband to his jock off without even slight resistance. His semi-erect manhood throbbed, partially dangling, but beginning to fight gravity—and there was a lot of gravity to fight with a fuck-stick that massive. Skye licked his lips. “Now, get over here.” Skye motioned Will back to the bed. He sat down on the edge again next to Skye. “Put your hands on me. I want you to feel this. I am holding it back…” “You can control it? Damn, Will. I didn’t expect that.” “It’s hard and it takes concentration, but my mind is strong. I can hold back the growth when I wish to. I had to learn that in jail.” Skye was salivating and raging hard. His own large cock fought desperately against the fabric of his shorts. He moved his left arm across his body and placed it on Will’s bicep. He lifted his right arm and extended it out across Will’s mountainous back. He could only reach about half way. The heavy back-steaks comprising the monster’s lats and traps were deep and powerful and imposing, even without exerting effort. He could see the dual ridges of the spinal erectors running along either side of Will’s spine, coursing from his neck all the way down where they dove below the surface and erupted into the huge hard meat cakes of Will’s preposterous butt. He was so difficult to contemplate the size and strength of that fine ass. He would be living in that glorious ass in a few minutes. Fuck. Skye places his right hand on Will’s enormous forearm and the other on his shoulder. They both wanted, no…they both NEEDED skin on skin contact. Will started to groan again and tremble. Skye could feel micro-quakes under Will’s skin. If the muscles could become harder, they did. The lace-like web of veins danced on his skin. And then Will looked in Skye’s eyes. Skye could feel an explosion of volume press out across his hands. He could feel Will’s temperature rise. Will emitted a bellowing groan from the deepest pit of his being. He sounded like an animal. It was the sound of gods fucking, angels masturbating, thousands of warriors jacking each other off. Those things combined sounded like Will’s growth moan. It was SEX and STRENGTH. It was POWER translated into a sound. He never took his eyes off of Skye. Baring his teeth, he growled again and pushed his lips into his lover’s. They kissed, eyes open, as Will’s body expanded and shifted. Skye’s hands never left his fiancée’s He wanted Will to know he was there, with him, comforting him, and mandating him to grow bigger. Before this moment, he thought he would want to watch Will from a safe distance, able to see his entire body change and grow…but being this close, he could smell the hormones pouring out of Will’s skin, on his breath, and in his kiss. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He drank Will in. Kissing him, tasting him, feeling his strength and power expand. And then it stopped. They had been locking eyes since Will had sat back down on the bed. Now their faces were still just inches away from each other looking into each other’s pupils, not wavering, not blinking. Will stood up. “You did this Skye. I feel like a fucking GOD. And this is just the beginning.” The immensity of Will could not be overstated. His musculature was no longer within the confines of human scale. They were both entering a state of complete sensory overload. Gobs of precum leaked from their engorged cocks. Constantly leaking. Constantly. A steady stream of sweet nectar oozed out without ceasing. Will kissed Skye on the mouth again. “Fuck me Skye. FUCK ME and make me grow more. I am ready. I want it and YOU want it more. Together, we are unstoppable. Make me bigger for YOU. Make me stronger for YOU. Make me invincible for YOU!” “Bend over, you giant beast. Take my cock in your ass. Take my seed. It is ready. You are ready!” They were both in a complete state of bliss. Speaking, shouting, moaning without care of consequence. Will, much bigger than only minutes before, was about to be seeded with Skye’s engineered cum. Millions of viruses created specifically for Will and Skye would be released from Skye’s enormous balls and sent into a new environment where they would be able to replicate without hindrance. Every cell in Will’s body would have the myostatin gene cut out. Skye had made certain that other genetic codes would be inserted form increased skeletal growth and testosterone would pour out of both of their testicles in enormous quantities. Will crawled on top of the bed. Being so much larger than Skye, he wanted his fiancée to have easy access to his quivering hole. He wanted this part to be enjoyable for them both. He jutted his ass outward toward Skye who was now standing a few feet from the bed. Will lowered his shoulders, thrusting his muscle cakes outward and upward. “Your ass is so incredibly massive Will! It is the most beautiful thing I have seen, other than your handsome face.” Skye focused in on Will’s tight hole which was now staring at him. One immovable, unblinking eye…an entrance to the body of a god. The doorway to even more SIZE, STRENGTH, and POWER. Skye’s face moved toward the giant mounds of hard flesh that comprised Will’s exposed ass. He moved in closer. Closer. He spit onto Will’s impossibly tight hole and raised his hand to rub the spit into the area with his forefinger. He wanted to lube Will up. He was going to fuck him hard, without mercy, tearing him, liberating his seed into Will’s quivering hole. “Will, I love you. Before this happens, I want you to know that. There is nothing on the face of this planet that means more to me than your happiness.” “FUCK ME SKYE!” the enormous man rumbled. “We are ONE now.” Skye knew that this was true. Maybe it was Will’s newly expanded mind, maybe it was the natural part of becoming so close with a partner…maybe it was just their love for each other. They were ONE. This act forged them together like two bricks of iron in the hand of a skilled welder. Two pieces became one more massive and stronger piece. Skye places his hands around Will’s rippling waist, grabbing onto the immovable mass that presented itself willingly to him. His own cock was throbbing, pulsing, weeping drops of precum unceasingly. Skye’s cock was on a mission. His big monster dick knew what it needed to do and so it pumped massive amounts of lube to the surface. Skye rubbed the tip of his engorged huge cock against Will’s sealed hole. He rubbed pre-ejaculate all around the area. The precum kept pouring out, wanting to do its job in this most-important action. Skye’s cock head was infinitely sensitive to touching Will. When it came into contact with the hard surface, it vomited more precum, and more, and more. Finally, Skye put more pressure on his hands that surrounded Will’s tight hard waist and drove his now-huge cock through the sphincter of the muscle monster, laying ass-end-up on their bed. A low grumble escaped Will’s throat. “Fuck me, Skye. Fuck me, beautiful man. FUCK ME! HARD! HARDER!” Skye was pumping hard and fast. He could feel with his cock the mound of dense tissue that comprised Will’s prostate. He could feel his expanded cock raking across it with every push and pull. Will panted like a bitch in heat each time the head of Skye’s massive penis rubbed against the orange-sized prostate buried in his ass. It felt so good. It felt like every Fourth of July and New Year’s Eve firework show he had ever seen. Skye picked up the pace, thrusting, heaving harder and harder. He could smell the sweet musty masculine smell of sex, of precum, and of Will’s manly hard ass. That smell was driving him wild. He pushed harder. Harder into Will. His own abs, glutes, obliques, and arms were combining forces to drive further and further into Will with more and more force. Will’s hole was being wrecked and both of them wanted it. He was being destroyed from the assault of Skye’s force. He wanted it. He craved it. Harder. Harder. More and more. Skye could feel the pressure increasing in his balls. He could feel the buzz, the churning that signaled orgasm. He knew that he would be sending massive amounts of viral particles into Will’s primed body in a matter of a few seconds. Once that happened, he couldn’t take it back. And he didn’t want to. Will emitted another growl. Skye felt the internal sex pump begin to reach into his balls, pull the seed out by a powerful siphon force, and send the sweet juices out to his hulking partner. He felt powerful waves of cum course through his body, passing through the tight passageways of his manliness and eventually thrusting through his own massive cock and lodging in Will. Waves of cum. Pints of thick sticky-sweet, bitterness. Thick milk. Blasting out. Blasting into Will. Pushing its way into the beast. Making the BEAST more than he had been. Skye kept bucking--rutting Will’s ass. They were two bodies of exceptional power and hardness. Will’s ass did not want to let go of Skye’s massive cock. Skye did not want to leave the cavern that felt like a velvet covered fist wrapped around his tumescent prick. It was comfortable. They both had craved that feeling for so long. Will pulled out. His cock still leaked cum in a slow steady stream. He rubbed the head against Will’s ass again. He didn’t want to forget this moment and neither did Will. Raising his chest up, Will was still on bended knee on the bed. He rotated his gigantic upper body so that his legs and hips were facing forward and his arms could reach out to Skye, who was still behind him. He grabbed his lover under the arms and raised him easily, moving him around to Will’s front side. “Skye, that was amazing. That was the best it has ever been. I fucking LOVE you.” “Me too, Big Man. Me too.” They collapsed on the bed, warm, sweaty, and sticky. A few hours later, they were still pressed together on the bed. It was afternoon now. The cum had dried on their skin and where Will had become the big spoon, his chest and abs pressed up against Skye’s bulging back, the cum had dried into a sort of glue. It felt good. It felt right. “Skye. Are you awake?” “I have been for a while. I have just been lying here, feeling you. Feeling your hardness and feeling you breathing. I have never been happier Will. I have never ever been happier.” “Me neither.” Will reached over to the nightstand and looked for the papers in which he had placed the love letter that Skye had written him on their last night before he was incarcerated. Skye hadn’t moved Will’s papers, so it was easy to find. He pulled it out. And read it outloud… “Last night reminded me of why I love you so much, not that I need reminding. You make me feel like I own the world, and it is because you are mine. I will not take this ring off of my finger for a moment while you are away. My heart is already aching from your absence and my body is already demanding to be with you again. The hardest thing I have had to do in my life was getting out of that bed this morning but I have things to get done before the city wakes up. Know, with every piece of your body, mind, and soul that I love you. I love you far more than I love myself. It comforts me to know that you feel the same way. I can’t wait to build the rest of my life with you. It will be an adventure that is beyond our imagination. I lay awake last night thinking about your proposal and how it was the perfect time, place, and situation. God, you are romantic. I could never ask for a better companion and partner in life. As we embark on this new chapter, understand that everything I have done, am doing, and will do is for you and me.” His voice cracked. A big tear fell out of his beautiful eye and rolled down his cheek. Skye simply looked up at his amazingly massive man, extended his tongue and licked the tear off of his face. It tasted salty, but it tasted like pure affection. Will pulled Skye’s left hand up to his face and looked at the twine “ring” still there. It was ratty by now and starting to show signs of definite age—twine is not supposed to last forever. He kissed his beloved’s ring finger and smiled. “Skye, when will I start growing again? I want to be so big for you. I want to protect you. I want to be monstrous for you!” “I don’t know when your growth will occur, Will. You have the viruses in you now. I have made them powerful. Look what they have done to me! I didn’t know that I could be so ripped and big, but you have so much more potential.” Skye looked up to his future husband and planted a big kiss on his lips. “It will take some time, Will. Genetics take time to work. This isn’t quick. It will be a process. You know that.” They stayed stuck together by their cum glue for another couple of hours. Neither of them wanted to move. Eventually, the sun started setting and Will wanted to watch the sunset from the rooftop balcony. “Let’s get dressed and go upstairs. I would LOVE to watch the sunset with you.” Little did he know that his heartbeat and that of Skye’s were now throbbing together, at the same time and rhythm. They were indeed becoming biologically integrated. Even knowing this, neither Will, nor Skye, would have cared. In fact, they would welcome it. That night they stood on the rooftop. Will was naked, too large for his old clothing now. Skye stood facing west with only his boxers on—and they protested against his skin and growing cock. It was a photogenic sunset and the sky lit up with yellow, gold, red, orange, and violet. It was perfect. Will wrapped his mountainous arms around Skye and as soon as Skye leaned his head back into Will’s hard beefy chest, he heard that their heartbeats were in perfect synch. “Will, our hearts are beating with the same rhythm.” The corners of Skye’s mouth curled up in a warm smile. “I know.” He said simply and quietly. Will was grinning ear to ear. He couldn’t be happier. He was willing his heart to be in synch with Skye’s. They watched the sun set slowly on the horizon wrapped in each other’s warm embrace. ========================================================================================== The morning greeted Skye and Will with its warm orange glow. Their bed beside the window granted them visual access to the warming of the sky and the beginning of a new day. Once again, Will was spooning Skye. Their bodies cocooned against each other. Will heard it first. High pitched sirens coming toward them. He could tell because the sound achieved a higher pitch as the seconds wore on. The pitch became higher and higher. Skye could hear it now. “Ugh. That was an unpleasant wake up.” Skye stretched his muscular long limbs against the beef mountain pressing against him. “Skye…Something is wrong. The sirens are here.” “Well, they must be after someone on this block. Don’t worry, my beautiful boy. You are safe.” Will wasn’t so sure. He felt a knot rising in his throat. Something wasn’t right. He could sense it. A moment later they heard pounding at the door. “Police! Open the door!” The two lovers looked at each other in complete surprise. “OPEN UP!” came the voice again. Skye leapt up and ran toward the door and opened it. “Skye Collins?” “Um, yes.” “You are under arrest for falsification of evidence.” The officer grabbed Skye’s wrist and locked a cuff on it, grabbed the other wrist and put the other cuff on that side. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…” The officer kept reading Skye his rights. Skye looked at Will, who was just beginning to rise from the bed. Everything had happened so fast. “Will. NO! Stay there. I will handle this.” Will’s body could feel Skye’s heartbeat increase. He was afraid, and Will knew it. Will walked toward the front door and toward his Love. He would not see his man treated this way. He could destroy these men easily and he knew it. A hot rage began to well up inside of him. “No Will. It will be OK. Stay there. Will! Stay there!” There was not question in Skye’s voice. Will stopped and stared helplessly as his beloved Skye was taken away. The only thing preventing the giant muscle beast from knocking he heads off of those men in one blow was the tone of Skye’s voice. It wasn’t a plea, it was command to stay back, to let Skye handle it. “I will call you, soon. Keep my phone on you. And call your attorney. Have him meet me at the police station.” Skye paused. “Officer, can I have you take this twine off of my finger. It is very important to me and I know that they will remove it, possibly trashing it, at the station.” The officer agreed. The policeman held out the twine ring to Will, depositing it in his massive paw. If there was one thing that Will knew, he understood that Skye had a plan and he would follow it. He could still feel Skye’s heartbeat forcing his own heartbeat to follow. He knew at that moment that he would be able to sense Skye’s condition. He would know if he was in danger. Something was beginning to swell inside of Will. He and Skye had started to become a single being over the course of the past 24 hours. He was experiencing a mix of emotions. Anger: for someone taking his heart away. Power: the feeling had been growing in him for weeks and was now becoming exponentially stronger. Love: He had no limit to the depth of responsibility that he felt for Skye. Worry: Neither of them had any idea how Skye had been found out. Who would have made the connections and how would they have done it? The demand that Skye made, to stay and remain at home, had been made for his own safety and the safety of those around him. He knew that, but his concern for his lover created a powerful and convincing reason to go against Skye’s order. He decided he would wait at least for a few hours. He could do that. The need to protect his fiancée, his heart, his purpose for being soon began to overwhelm him. He felt the surges of growth again beginning to course through him. Waves of orgasmic energy began to mount inside of his chest and radiate outward. He knew that once again, he would grow. He was only sad that Skye wouldn’t be able to see it. He already missed the touch of his angelic creator and protector. His powerful mind was telling him to grow to be able to protect his man. The concern and worry was being replaced by the beginning touches of rage and he was quickly discovering that intense emotions created a triggering environment. He could feel it coming in waves. But this time, somehow, it was different. It was as if he could manipulate the sensation. His mind could control the growth, yes, just as before. But now, he felt like he could sense the viral particles latching on to his cells. His immune system, as robust as the man himself, could approach and destroy the viruses at his command. This would give him exceptional control over how much he grew, where, and when. He was manipulating his growth potential. Somehow, he knew that Skye knew that this would happen. How could he not know? He was brilliant beyond measure. He sat on the bed with his head in his hands, breathing deeply, slowly, forcing his emotions to subside. He wanted nothing more than to embrace the power he could feel pulsing through his body. He wanted to open the gates and lose control, to grow, to become a fucking monster! But he would wait. If those men touched one hair on Skye’s head in a disrespectful way, they would be destroyed. He could feel Skye. The feeling was faint, but Will knew that he was ok. That was all he could tell and it was enough for the moment. However, he was on edge. “FUCK! He started pounding his fist into his open hand. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He decided to walk into the living room and lay on the couch. He often did that if he needed to think. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep his anger in check. Thick ropes of panic were rising again in his chest and his supercharged mind was struggling to keep his concern and worry from triggering an explosion of outrage. A few miles away, Skye was being taken out of the squad car and ushered into the police station. Paperwork was being filed and after a few short minutes, he was being ushered into another car and being taken to the jail…the same jail that Will had been in that very morning. The handcuffs were starting to wear into his wrists. He could feel Will’s angst. The man had barricaded his emotional outburst in order to prevent a tirade of anger and retribution. For the moment, Skye staying calm was all that prevented the beast from exploding in size, power, and strength. He knew innately that Will wanted more than anything to defend his fiancée and would react in extreme fashion if he sensed Skye was at risk. They both struggled to remain calm. Arriving at the jail, Skye knew that he would be immediately allowed a phone call. Since Will had hopefully alerted their attorney, he would of course call home. He needed to calm Will down, to attempt to diffuse any unforeseen problems and he knew for certain that Will was worried sick. After the intake process, Skye was escorted to a phone on the side of the wall in the hallway and given a code to call outside of the jail. He dialed the outside extension number, then his own mobile number. It began ringing. Will jumped up from the couch, the wood frame cracking underneath his enormous round ass. The couch was not built to handle several hundred pounds in the space of a couple of square feet. He moved quickly into the bedroom and picked up Skye’s phone. “Hello? Skye?” His voice was desperate and pressured. “I’m OK, Big Man. I’m OK. They brought me to the jail. I thought I had seen enough of this place, but I guess it will be at least an overnight stay. We can post my bail tomorrow morning. How are you?” “I’m fucking mad as hell, Skye. I can barely control it. I feel like a 2 liter soda bottle that has been shaken for 5 minutes. I am ready to blow. I want to GROW. I need to GROW, Skye. I can’t contain it much longer. It’s taking every ounce of concentration I have to keep myself under control. I’m going to fucking LOSE IT!” “You’re doing a great job, Big Man.” “They took you away. They took you away and fucked up our plans. Have they hurt you? They all better be on their best fucking behavior. If I even sense that you are upset, I will rip that fucking place DOWN in five minutes.” “No one has hurt me, Will.” “You tell them that you are with me. Everyone knows who I am in there and they will leave you alone. They KNOW what I will do to them if a single scratch is on your body tomorrow. They fucking KNOW!” Skye felt himself becoming strangely aroused. His well-endowed cock began hardening in his pants. There was a certain corrupting power that he felt, knowing that he could, with one sentence, send Will into a state of complete insanity and unleash a truly terrifying beast onto the world. Part of him wanted that. He wanted to see the full measure of Will’s transformation being unleashed. Knowing that Will would do whatever he asked was a huge fucking turn-on. He knew all he had to do was tell Will to embrace his mega-alpha status, embrace his rage, embrace his need to dominate. It would only take that much effort and Will would transform into a muscle god of domination, inciting fear and submission from every person he encountered. Skye was getting completely hard at the though. But he wanted to be a part of that transformation. He wanted to orchestrate it. “Will, my Big Man, I am not small anymore. I am a big muscleman myself at this point, remember. I will be alright.” “Well, you tell them anyway Skye, just so there is no question. Will you please tell them? OH…and watch out for a kid named Jesse—he is a squirrely looking young guy. He was obsessed with me and I embarrassed him. He’s dangerous. Just stay away from him.” “I’ve got to go, Will. I have some sleep medication in the cabinet in the bathroom. After dinner, take two pills. It will help you sleep and get some good rest. I will call in the morning and let you know what time to bring the Jeep.” Skye paused and started chuckling. “I don’t know how you are going to fit in it though after that last little spurt in the apartment. You are so fucking hot. I can’t wait to fuck you again. And next time, I want you to fuck me too.” “Damn right. We're gonna stay in bed for days.” There was silence on the line for a few seconds. They both knew that this was just a little snag in the plan and that tomorrow they would be back together after bail had been set and posted. “I love you, Skye.” Will breathed it quietly. “Same here, you big sexy gorilla.” He had a smile in his voice and knew that they could get past this and move on with their lives soon. The phone went dead and Skye was escorted down the hallway and into the main area of the jail. Most of the inmates were staring at him. They were not used to seeing such an attractive well-built man. Skye was tall and thick with powerful muscles. His eyes were bright as gemstones and his blonde hair and clear skin made him look more like an ancient statue of manliness than someone being put into jail. He walked with an air about him. Confident. Secure. One of the guards, the one that had walked him to his meeting with Will in the visitation room a couple of weeks prior, recognized him. “Sir? What are you doing here?” “I was arrested for falsifying evidence in Will’s arrest. It won’t stick. I’ll be out tomorrow. Good to see you.” “Good to see you too, sir. If there is anything you need, just let me know. I’ll be here for a few more hours today.” “Thank you. I won’t forget your offer to help.” Skye kept walking and ended up in a cell at the back corner of the pod. The door was open and no one was inside, although it was obvious that at least one other person was in that 4 bed cell. “Get your bearings and I will escort you outside to the yard. Most of the guys are out there playing ball or lifting…or just getting some sun,” the guard motioned at him with his head. “So you are Will’s fiancée? That guys is one big scary fucker. I’ve never seen anything like him. I know that the other guard mentioned that if you need anything, you could go to him. Same thing here. If you need something, let me know. I want to stay on your boyfriend’s good side.” “Thanks. I think I can take care of myself though. I’d prefer if the guys didn’t know I was Will’s boyfriend. It may cause too much attention. I’d like to just spend the night here and leave in the morning with no incident.” “Yes, sir. I understand.” They walked out to the yard. “There you go. Free time started just a few minutes ago, so you’ll have about an hour to get some exercise.” Skye walked over to the weight cage. Massive men, bigger than himself, thrust the weights around on heavy bars. Dumbbells were strewn about and were being used to pump up the muscular men. Skye knew that every single one of them must know Will. He had mentioned the weight cage and how nothing in there seemed heavy. Skye walked over to an open bench and began to load on 45s. He pulled off his shirt and his beautiful hard tanned muscles met the daylight. He was gorgeous and he knew it. “Hey Goldilocks. You new here?” A large man approached Skye with an angry look on his face. “You don’t lift unless we say you can lift. Doesn’t matter how big and pretty you are. Got it?” “I understand what you are saying, but I think I’m going to go ahead and have a good workout. Thanks for your concern.” Skye lay down on the bench, raised his calloused hands up to the bar. Another couple of the big men had walked over when they saw the newbie defy their brother. “Who the fuck do you think you are, pretty boy?” The first man was apoplectic. “Get off the fucking bench man. You’re gonna get your ass beat.” One of the others that had gathered around smirked. “I wouldn’t mind fucking up that face of yours before I fuck you in the ass. If I punch enough of your teeth out, you wont bite when you suck my cock.” Skye lifted the bar off of the rack. He wasn’t going to be intimidated. He pushed out one rep easily and smoothly as a warm up. He started lowering the bar back to his chest when one of the men wrapped his meaty hand around the bar and pushed it down toward Skye’s chest. “Are you fucking stupid? You’re gonna get yourself killed in here, you little bitch.” The man snarled. A few more men were gathering around the group. The tension in the yard was quickly escalating. Skye remained calm. Although he knew Will would rip the limbs off of every single one of these men for trying to intimidate him, he could handle himself. He was made of stronger stuff than he appeared. “I just want to get my lifting in, man. I don’t want any trouble.” “Well, trouble wants you, you fucking prick. Why don’t you stand up and say something smart to my face!” The man was angry--fists clenched and wild-eyed. The group of men was starting to whoop and holler. They could see an ass-kicking coming any moment and they were getting excited. Although Skye was at least as big as the hardened man, he was also much younger, and much less menacing. Skye’s body had been made in a gym. He was strong, but not street savvy and didn’t have the hard mean look of the other men who had gathered around. Skye knew he was about to get the shit knocked out of him, but he didn’t care. He wanted to feel that feeling. He wanted to know what it felt like to get pummeled. It was sick and sadistic, but he had never been in a fight and the way he was growing now—and with a titan of a boyfriend to keep others at bay—he didn’t know if he would ever get the chance again. It was almost like a rite of manhood…to be in a fight. This was as good of a place as any. Sitting up on the bench, he swung his leg around and stood up. Adrenalin was pumping through his veins. He was not going to back down. He appeared to remain calm. First, so that the man and his cronies would know that he wasn’t afraid. And second, so that Will wouldn’t feel his emotions changing too much. He wanted to do this on his own. “I would like to get a good workout in and I don’t think that is too much to ask. Do you?” The larger man put his face an inch away from Skye’s. Skye could feel his warm breath hitting him. He stared into Skye’s eyes and didn’t blink. Neither did Skye. A quizzical look passed over the brute’s countenance, like he didn’t understand why Skye was so calm. Then without warning, stepped back, drew back his arm and shoulder, clenched his fist, and connected with Skye’s face. A loud smack of two pieces of meat slamming into each other was heard by everyone within 20 feet. Blood started pouring from Skye’s nose and a smile crossed his face. God, it felt good to feel that pain. It was something new—a new experience. One of the guards, the guard from the hallway, walked over and yelled at the inmates to disperse. Fighting through the crowd, he saw who the big ruffian had punched. “Oh, shit.” He said under his breath. The huge inmate was breathing heavy and looked like he was about to send a gut punch into Skye’s well developed abs. “Hey, Matt. Matt!” The inmate looked at the guard with intensity. The guard stepped over to the man and whispered something in his ear, quickly. Matt looked as though the wind had been completely taken out of his sails. Blood drained from his face. Skye had his eyes closed, waiting for the next punch. He wanted to feel that exquisite pain again. He didn’t know how long it would be until a single man couldn’t physically hurt him. Muscle was growing thicker every day on his body. Already, the pain was blunted and he knew that. So he stood there, waiting, blood pouring from his nose and a distinct mark on his cheek. “Oh my god. I’m a dead man.” The massive brute whispered under his breath. He had fear in his eyes—the fear that comes from accepting a horrible fate. Will would kill him and he knew it. All the guard had whispered was, “The man you just hit is Will’s boyfriend. This is fucking SKYE, man!” Big Matt just stood there, deflated. “Hit me again, you fucking ape. Hit ME!” Matt just shook his head. Skye opened his eyes. The men who had gathered around began to whisper amongst themselves, staring at Skye like he was a zoo animal. “You’re Skye? Will is your man?” Big Matt asked carefully. Skye knew that the game was up. No one would touch him now. He was a little disappointed. “Yes.” “Let the man work out, boys. Clear out!” Matt bellowed at the other men. The others left the weight cage. Only Skye and Big Matt were left. Skye still had blood draining from his nose. The front of his jail jumpsuit was stained with large blotches of crimson. He still had a smile on his face. “I’m sorry for punching you, sir. I didn’t know who you were.” It was obvious that the man was afraid now. “I’m sorry.” Skye was impressed by the hold Will had developed over these men. He had instilled a fear into them that was unquestionable. “I’ll leave you to your workout.” “Hey, Matt. I wont tell Will it was you.” The man just shot a smile at Skye and walked away leaving him alone in the weight area. Skye began loading another couple of plates on the bar. Without warning, a thin blonde guy walked in with a demonic smile painted on his face. “Hey. You’re Skye?” “Yes. I am.” He had begun to lower the bar toward his chest. He looked back at the younger man. Shit. This must be Jesse. “Damn man. I can see why Will can’t get enough of you. You are fuckin hot. I didn’t get it before, but I do now. Look at that ass…and the rest of you ain’t bad either.” “Uhhhh…thanks.” Across town, Will had just eaten a huge dinner. Skye had stocked the fridge in preparation of Will’s homecoming. He was still feeling on edge, but knowing that Skye would be home tomorrow made it bearable. He just wanted to sleep and put an end to the day. It was early, only about 7PM, but if he fell asleep soon, he would wake up and it would be time to go get his man. That time couldn’t come quick enough. He walked to the medicine cupboard and found Skye’s sleeping meds…Skye had always struggled with insomnia. Will took two pills out and popped them in his mouth, swallowed, and jumped in the shower. He knew he would be knocked out in a half hour. Crawling into bed, he felt out to Skye and nothing had really changed. He was there, nervous, but OK. Minutes later, he fell soundly asleep. Skye had just ended his workout before dinnertime. He went into his cell to put on a new set of clothing. “Hey. I’m Skye.” The beautiful one extended his hand to his cellmate for the night. “I’m John. I know who you are.” John was a big fuckin piece of meat. Ugly as sin and built like a tank. “Will was my cellmate until this morning when they moved me down here.” “Well, nice to meet you John.” “You too man. You too. You going to get some dinner now?” Skye nodded and took his t-shirt off. It had become sweaty as he worked out and some of the blood had seeped into it from his earlier altercation. His nose had long stopped bleeding but his face needed to be cleaned up a bit. Dried blood caked his nostrils and there were dark smears where he had tried to rub the sticky red fluid from his face. “Let me get you a wet towel, Skye. Let’s clean that face up.” John turned toward the sink and grabbed a small hand towel, soaked it under the faucet, and returned to Skye. “Will was a crazy fuck. I though he was going to kill me a few times. But I learned to respect his boundaries.” He paused for a moment. “Do you know that he wouldn’t allow anyone to talk about you? He completely idolizes you. People knew your name. They knew that Will would fuck ‘em up real good if they said anything about you. I’ve never seen anyone like Will. He just kept growing and getting taller and more massive. Harder. Stronger.” John’s voice had a thread of lust in it. “Did you like his huge muscles, John?” Skye knew that this was a dangerous line of questioning, but was curious about John. He seemed like an alright guy—helping him get cleaned up and all. “I guess so. Will was just so unapologetically manly. No one would dare go against him. He just had this presence. Kind of like you do…but you are more refined. I can tell.” John held out the damp cloth. “I can clean this for you.” He was offering his services to Skye, but Skye didn’t know if it was because he was trying to stay on Will’s good side or if he was flirting. “You gay, John?” Neither said a word for what seemed like five minutes. It was likely only thirty seconds. John looked at the floor. Skye kept his eyes on him. “I don’t think so. I kinda like both. Women are beautiful and I love playing with their tits. But a big muscular guy like you…or Will…is just so hot. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” “It’s OK man. Thanks for being honest.” He took the towel from John’s outstretched hand and began to clean his face. “Let’s go get some dinner.” “Sounds good. Hey, Skye—don’t tell anyone.” “It’s cool man. No worries.” “And, be careful of this guy named Jesse. He’s young, but his dad has some connections in town. I know he wants to fuck with Will since he had a crush on him and Will completely annihilated him in front of everyone in here a couple of days ago. He’s been planning something man. I don’t like it. You seem like a good guy, so I’m just sayin’ watch out.” All of a sudden, things made sense. Jesse was the reason he was in here. Jesse wanted him in jail with him, even for a few hours. His pulse started to race. What was this little fucking asshole up to? John and Skye walked down the hallway into the mess hall. The scent was clinical—like bleach and men. A strange combination. They took a place in line and Skye kept looking around. If Jesse wanted him in jail, he had to have known that it wouldn’t be for very long. Whatever he was going to do, he would do quickly. The question now was “when?” As soon as Skye got in line, the other inmates ushered him forward. John stood back where they had come in at the back, but when someone in front of Skye saw him (they all knew who he was now), they asked him if he would like to go ahead. “No. It’s alright. I can wait my turn.” But they were insistent. What kind of power did Will have over these men? Fuck. They were parting like the waters of the Red Sea. He saw Jesse sitting at a table about halfway across the room at a table by himself. He was just staring at Skye with dead eyes. Almost like he was looking past him--through him. Something in his mind made him think of a snake that was about to strike. He was calculating, thinking, manipulating. Skye went to an open table on the far side of the room. It was empty. Within minutes, other inmates who had been sitting at other tables started getting up with their food trays and walking over to Skye’s table. They placed some portion of their food next to Skye. Apples, little milk cartons, extra bread…a pile of food was being stacked around him. Some of the men, especially the huge tattooed behemoths sat at the table surrounding Skye. None of them spoke. They were just there, Skye thought to show their respect for Will. John finally joined his cellmate and sat in the seat directly across from Skye. “What is with the guys bringing me food, John?” “It is something that they did for Will. The tried to keep him calm, keep on his good side, by bringing him food. There isn’t much we can do in here to show our loyalties. Food is one of those things. They are trying to tell you that they are loyal to you.” “Fuck man. What did Will do in here to cause this kind of devotion?” “He did a lot of things…just naturally. He’s the biggest alpha I’ve ever seen. You see that doorway over there? Well, a huge solid steel door hung there only a few days ago. Jesse made some comment about you one day and Will went over there and ripped the thing off of its guide rail. He crumpled it up like it was tissue paper. When he first got here, he lifted an entire universal bar loaded with plates with one arm. He was not fucking around man. He never asked for respect or tribute, but these guys fell in line. Even the guards. They are showing you the same respect.” Skye looked at Jesse again. He was only a couple of tables away. Jesse was red in the face. He looked frustrated, angry, betrayed. Skye finished the food on his tray. He then started eating the items that the other inmates had given to him, not wanting to be rude. It was a gesture and he knew it. There was no way he could eat nearly as much as Will. After he was done, he stood up and walked toward his room. Every eye was on him. Entering his cell he lay down on the bed, hoping to relax and have his thoughts to himself for a while. He now knew that Jesse had somehow set him up. That was the most likely scenario. Fuck Jesse. John joined him after a few minutes. He climbed up to his top bunk and remained quiet. “Hey John, I think I am going to fall asleep a bit early tonight. Is that OK with you?” “You don’t have to ask permission of me for anything. You do what you want and I will adjust.” “Thanks.” A few minutes later, Skye had fallen asleep. It was still early evening. A strong hand shook his shoulder. “Excuse me, sir. But the sheriff would like to see you downstairs.” It was the guard from the hallway and from the yard. “OK.” He was groggy, not thinking clearly. Entering the sheriff’s office in the jail, the man shook his hand politely. “Skye, you have only been here a couple of hours, but it looks like you were mistakenly taken into custody. The evidence against you has been deemed prejudicial. You are free to go if you’d like or since it is late now, you can stay for the evening and go home in the morning.” “I’d like to call Will to come and pick me up, sir.” “Sounds good.” The sheriff pushed the desk phone toward Skye and he dialed the number. It rang and rang. Will was sound asleep in a drug-induced dreamland. The phone would not be waking him up. It rang and rang. “I guess he is asleep or busy. I don’t mind sleeping here until the morning, sir. I’ll call back then. Thank you for telling me though. I appreciate it.” Skye returned to his cell. John wasn’t there. “He must be out in the common area,” Skye thought. The men would not be told to go back into their cells for another hour or so. He crawled back onto the bed and fell asleep, knowing that he was a free man and would be reunited with his fiancée in just a few hours. A few cells down, Jesse was busy seducing John. He knew the guy was a fag too. “I wanna suck your cock, John. I’ll make you feel so fucking good man. I’ll make you shoot a gallon of your spunk…and I will swallow every last drop. Fuck my face man. Fuck it!” John was weak. He hadn’t had his cock sucked in weeks and the young thing, Jesse, was begging for his cock. He didn’t like Jesse much, but a warm mouth is better than a cold hand. When Jesse was done sucking him off, he pushed John onto the bed and wrapped his arms around him, soothing him, making him fall asleep—that wonderful post-orgasm sleep. As soon as he heard the snoring start, he carefully untangled himself and made his way to Skye’s cell. He didn’t have much time. The guards would soon be making their rounds telling the inmates to return to their cells for the evening. He had maybe twenty minutes…but you can do a lot of damage in twenty minutes. Just a moment later, he entered Skye’s cell. He was on the bed, sound asleep with a smile on his face. “Fuck this asshole and fuck Will,” he breathed quietly. “FUCK!” Skye felt a sharp pain searing into his shoulder. He tried to sit up in bed but something was tying him down around his neck. He couldn’t shout or cry for help. It felt as if he were being strangled. “You ruined my life, you fucking queer. Will wanted me, but you got in the way.” He could feel Jesse’s mouth talking angrily into his left ear. He couldn’t breath unless he lay still. The pain in his shoulder was beginning to burn and feel warm. He struggled to groan or make any noise at all. “You need to get out of my way. After you are gone, Will is mine! I hope this hurts, you fucking prick. You’ll never see your precious Will again. Sayonara, fucker.” Skye felt another shot of pain. This time in his right arm. He was being stabbed. He was being stabbed! Something was tied around his neck—a piece of cloth maybe. It prevented him from raising his head or yelling out. He was completely restrained, and he knew he was bleeding extensively. He felt the warmth of blood coating his skin. He reached out to Will. Forcing himself against that sensory perception that they shared now. He encountered a wall. Will must be asleep. He couldn’t feel anything from him. He was bleeding and couldn’t breathe. He would not die here at the hands of some entitled well-connected weasel. The thoughts started to come apart, less coherent, less focused. He was losing consciousness. “FUCK YOU, Skye. The last thing I want you to know is that I…I will be fucking your precious boyfriend all too soon. He will need some comfort after you are gone and I am getting out of here soon. I’m going to take your man and make him mine. So fuck you!” At that moment, John walked into the cell. “OH FUCK, Jesse. What did you do? Guards…GUARDS!!!” ============================================================================================ Will woke up with the sun. He had slept so well and felt that morning fog that settles in after taking sleeping pills. He extended his legs and arms. It took him a moment to realize that he was home, in their big bed. He reached over to grab the warmth of Skye and his eyes shot open. He remembered. Skye was in jail. He extended his mind to Skye. “No, no, no, no!” A feeling of panic settled into him. Skye was in great pain. He felt it. He reached out to the pain, stroking it, trying to calm it and take it away. He felt its sharpness and fear. Skye was afraid. He was in immense pain. The fog of the medication wearing off clouded him though. It blunted his reaction. Was he still dreaming? He took a moment and gathered his emotions. “Is this a dream?” Again, he extended his mind to touch Skye’s. Once again…pain, fear. He picked up Skye’s phone next to the bed. His heart was beginning to pound. He could feel something happening inside of him. Something dark and brooding, like a massive thunderstorm just on the horizon. He say that a couple of calls had come in. “Hey Will. I know you are probably asleep. I did tell you to take a couple of my sleeping meds. They are letting me out now, officially, but since I can’t ahold of you, I am going to stay here tonight. Call the jail when you get this and we can set something up. I love you and miss you. I hope you are feeling ok and haven’t hulked out on my already! See you tomorrow morning. Love you.” Next message. “This message is for Will. This is Bellingham General Hospital. We have your partner, Skye, in our emergency department. Please call us immediately.” Next message. “This message is for Will. This is Bellingham General Hospital. Please call us as soon as you are able.” Floods of adrenalin flooded Will’s system. He was on the brink of losing control of his mind and consequently, his body. His hands were trembling as he tried to return the call to the hospital. His fingers were too big and he was shaking to much to hit the right buttons on the screen. “FUCK!” he bellowed. He tried again. He couldn’t hit the button on the phone. He was shaking, trembling. Once more… “This is Bellingham General Hospital. How can I help you?” “I received messages this morning about my partner, Skye Collins. I need to speak with someone about him. NOW!” “Sir, I will connect you as soon as I can.” The voice on the other side of the line was annoyed. Probably some punk-ass new high school grad that had no idea what she was speaking with on the other end of the line. “This is nurses’ station, fifth floor.” “I am Skye Collins’ partner. I received two calls about him asking me to call. Is he OK?” There was complete heartbreak in Will’s voice. “Who is it that I am speaking with?” “My name is Will. I am Skye’s partner. PLEASE, I am begging you. Tell me how he is!” “Let me connect you with his nurse.” Will tried to interrupt and get at least basic information. “Hi, this is Julie.” “TELL ME HOW SKYE IS! WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM?” Will had enough. He was yelling into the phone. The voice on the other end of the line could sense that whomever she was speaking to was terrified and very upset. “Skye is doing well. We had to give him blood. He lost a lot of it last night, but he will be ok. He should be waking up soon. You should come. Are you Will?” “Yes.” Will was feeling the pains of growth shooting through his body. He didn’t have the willpower or internal controls to suppress them any more. He felt like a volcano ready to spew destruction on everything around him. He was the pressure cooker. He would bring down fire and brimstone. “He kept mumbling your name all through the night. It is obvious that you need to be here when he wakes up if you can.” “I’m coming. Thank you.” Will put on some clothes that Skye had bought in anticipation of his return. They were obscenely tight around every aspect of his body. He didn’t have a choice. He rushed to the jeep and tried to get in. The seat wouldn’t go back enough. “Shit! This just keeps getting better.” He wrapped his hands around the seat and ripped it out of the Jeep, tossing it on the sidewalk. He crawled in. His mass filled 80% of the space. Hard quivering muscles bloated by concern and fear pulsed with anger and worry. A few minutes later, he arrived at the hospital. Pulling into the Emergency Room bay, he jumped out, leaving the Jeep running. “Hey man, you can’t park here!” a hospital worker yelled. He picked up the front end of the Jeep and threw it 30 yards into the parking area. “That good enough for you, dumb fuck?” and ran into the open doors of the hospital. A few minutes later, he found Skye’s room. His presence running down the hallway startled anyone who saw him. Walking into the elevator, he looked at the weight limit posted above the floor buttons. He was close to maximum weight the elevator would lift, but still under by a bit. Enormous and massive, his muscular bulk made its way to the fifth floor. “Julie. I need to find Julie!” He found the nurses’ station. “I need JULIE!” Will’s voice was raised and anxious. He was towering over the small human at the desk. “I’m Julie.” The woman’s voice trembled. “I’m Will. Where the FUCK is Skye and what happened?” Julie, the poor thing, held her hands up, in an effort to calm Will down. “He is just waking up, Will. I can take you too him.” The little woman scampered down another hallway, paused and opened a door. The room was dark. “He’s in here, Will. Please be careful. We have him hooked up to some monitors so he has wires that need to stay in place.” Julie backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. “Skye, can you hear me, sweet man?” Skye’s eyes fluttered open. Will could see the break in his nose from Matt’s assault, he saw purple marks on his throat from the bedsheet that was strangling him. He saw gauze bandages on his shoulders. “I can.” Skye whispered softly, barely audible over the beeps and clicks of the monitors. “Skye, I am here.” The monster, a hulking mass of rippling power and size leaned his enormous bulk over the bed. Hundreds of pounds of upper body muscle balanced above Skye. Will was concentrating on Skye’s heartbeat again. “Skye, our hearts are beating together again. You are going to be OK. Who did this to you? What happened?” “Jesse. It was Jesse.” A white-hot bolt of anger flashed once again in Will. He felt a release of energy so powerful, he knew that he could not contain it and he didn’t want to try. “Jesse did this to you? JESSE?” He was breathing heavy. Skye sensed the change in him. He knew that Will was about to enter a grey area that exists between sanity and the insane. Will’s heart started beating more quickly and with more purpose. He felt Will’s body and mind begin to let go of the trivialities of modern conveniences of size and comfort. That concept was quickly losing value. “Who the fuck cares if I can’t fit into clothes anymore? If I am that fucking huge, no one will fuck with me anyways.” His fists started to flex again. Will could feel his body tensing and stretching, preparing to enter the next phase of his evolution. “Will. I can feel you ramping up. Before you leave and crush everything in your way… John, your old cell mate, he was kind to me. Matt, the giant muscle man of the weight yard—after he got to know me, he was kind to me. Most of the men gave me extra food at dinner last night out of respect for you. Will, know who your enemy is. The rest would follow you into the jaws of hell.” “Believe me, Skye…they would follow you too. I have to take care of this, sweet man. I have to do this.” “I know. I just wish that I could be there to see it. Will, you are indestructible, but don’t forget that deep down inside of this mega-alpha muscle beast, you are a sweet, kind man who I gave my heart to after a wonderful dinner the night you first talked to me at the university gym. You are still that person. Remember that.” Will smiled at his fiancée, the love of his life, the man he would move heaven and earth to please. He grabbed Skye’s hand into his, bent over and kissed him on the cheek. “I will be back soon.” Skye just looked up and smiled. He knew that Will would never be the same man after this. He knew that as soon as he left the hospital, he would embrace the titan he was destined to become. As he left Skye’s room, he saw Julie. “How stable is he? How much longer will he need to be here?” “He is actually very stable. We would like to watch him today, but he doesn’t really have too much damage other than blood loss. He’ll be good to go home later.” Will turned toward the exit and began to jog. He had some business to settle and he would be taking care of that, NOW! He jumped in the Jeep that he had crudely thrown into the parking area. He was holding on to that feeling of growth, pausing it, delaying it. He wanted to unveil himself at the right moment. Only a few minutes later, he found himself on the outside of the Whatcom county jail. He stared at the building and thought of Skye. Their heartbeats were still in synch. He felt it--knew it--wanted it. The dam finally broke. Skye had given his permission and Will reached out to him again, wanting to know if it was all right to tear down his barricades. He felt a reassuring “yes.” Instantly, he closed his eyes and concentrated, turning the growth switches on in his body. He opened up the floodgates of hormones and genes. He opened up emotional channels of anger and outrage. Jesse would pay now. He would pay dearly for doing what he did. Will walked toward the jail, clenched fists, sweating, moaning loudly like a moose in heat. Pulses of sharp lightning pounded through Will’s veins. His body became electrified. Waves of thick dark energy flowed out from his mind into every recess of his body. He opened himself up to receive the blessing of Skye’s brilliant plan. Uncontrollable twitches and jerks of began assaulting his muscles. He was steps away from the main entrance to the jail and he could barely control himself. He didn’t want to have to suppress it anymore, but he knew he wanted the men inside to see his change, especially Jesse. He wanted that little fuck to piss himself. Back at the hospital, Skye felt his heart begin to race. He began to sweat. The same syrupy darkness was beginning to flow through his veins. He could feel his body healing, repairing itself. The connection between the two men was complete, their bodies were in fact, integrated. Skye didn’t realize how much until that moment. He could feel Will’s rage and anger. Skye was angry too and reflected more of that feeling into Will. The feeling of being strangled, the fear of losing his life, the pain of being stabbed in the shoulders—he sent those feelings to Will. Will could feel Skye’s pain and anger building up as well. His pupils dilated and he growled. The sound was so deep and pregnant with masculinity; it sent vibrations into the ground. His guttural growl was more felt than heard. Skye sat up in bed, his eyes becoming wild. He could feel himself gearing up to grow. He didn’t know how, but Will’s eminent growth was affecting him in the same way. He had to get out of the hospital. He had to get to Will. He tore the IV lines and monitoring leads off of his arms and chest. His breaths were shallow and rapid. He had to get to the jail too. He wanted all of them to see him HUGE. He wanted Will to see him grow, and he wanted to face fuck Jesse until his eyes bugged out of his skull. Payback would be sweet. Will could feel Skye beginning to start the growth process and it slowed him down for a moment. He could feel the orgasmic feeling of Skye’s metamorphosis beginning. His cock started to swell, pulse, dance to their two tandem heartbeats. He knew Skye was coming to be with him and to take his pound of flesh from Jesse. This realization made his cock rip out of his already-too-small pants. The tower of manhood could not be contained. It wanted to fuck something and show its power to all of the peons inside…and most of all, his cock wanted to bury itself in Skye’s huge muscular ass. The thought made precum erupt from his gaping slit. Ounces of sweet slick man nectar gurgled up from somewhere in Will’s groin. Long strings of it were threading to the ground. Will’s eyes rolled back in complete ecstasy. The idea that his sweet, brilliant, angelic muscle-stud was about to become a destroyer pushed his enormous cantaloupe sized balls into overdrive. Through his lustful thoughts, he could feel massive quantities of cum swirling inside of his bull balls. Hundreds of whirlpools of thick sticky white juice churning, massaging the insides of his nuts. They were dropping lower, becoming heavier, as he thought of Skye tearing through the walls to do damage on the inside, right next to him. They had always been two sides of the same coin. Will had been lusty, dark, powerful, and an alpha. Skye, the intellectual, measured, sweetheart. In this moment, as Skye rushed toward the hospital, they both knew that together they would be completely unstoppable. It turned both of them on. They were united in one goal and they both demanded more size, power, and strength. They were pinging each other, the signal for growth increasing in its frequency and amplitude as Skye neared the jail. He was wearing XXXL hospital scrubs and looked like a massive surgeon racing down the sidewalk. It was almost comical, except for the determination on his face. Skye could feel his muscles tightening. They were aching for him to release them from their cage. They wanted to expand and bloom outward, assuring an even more massively beautiful and powerful man. He knew what Will had been feeling now. It was hard to contain his body’s desire to expand, to become more than a man. It was like the feeling of being edged…it felt so fucking good. He was edging his growth. Edging his power and strength. Groans of pleasure began oozing out of his mouth as he ran toward Will. He could see the jail up ahead on the edge of the forest. Almost there. Will had turned away from the building and was running at full speed toward Skye. His arms were beginning to lengthen and he looked much like a devastatingly handsome King Kong, long muscular arms reaching down his muscular thickly corded legs. His legs started lengthening as well as he saw Skye running across the field in front of the jail. Fuck, his cock was pumping precum in massive waves. He couldn’t think straight once he saw his man running toward him. He could feel the tsunami of sexual energy erupting from Skye when their eyes locked and he felt an unquenchable craving for his soon-to-be husband. He wanted to pound Skye’s ass, he wanted Skye to pound his. He wanted to suck the seed right out of Skye’s growing low-hanging balls feeding from the fountain of his POWER. Skye’s man juice tasted like salted honey, and he wanted to drink it until his muscle gut was ready to burst. He would suck Skye’s cock until he dried up and then start sucking harder. Fuck! Everything else seemed insignificant. When they reached each other, Will took Skye into his arms, picking him up off the ground. Both of them began groaning, moaning, deeply from the pit of their beings. Hard raging cocks oozed and both started humping the other’s body. “Holy shit, Will. I can hardly control myself.” “It’s my turn to tell you to let go. LET GO, SKYE! Become what you are destined to become!” Will lowered Skye down to the ground. Their cocks kept pumping, standing alert, and demanding to have release. Skye looked into Will’s crazed eyes and Will stared back. In that instant, Skye’s body started to swell. He didn’t gain much in height, but the tight scrubs he had been wearing popped like a balloon. The sound of every stitch of fabric splitting open at the same time was like a thunderclap in Will’s ears. He was salivating at what he saw happening right in front of him. Skye’s torso and legs lengthened and his shoulders grew outward. Immediately, every cut shredded muscle on his body exploded. In a matter of ten seconds, Skye was twice as massive. His head was surrounded by thick mountains of shredded beef. His pecs blew out in thousands of strands, bunching and rippling as he moved his arms. His abs subdivided; each of them becoming so ripped that they showed the same vertical striation pattern that his pecs did horizontally. Will had never seen anything like it. His forearms blew out until they looked as if they were on the verge of popping through the skin, dozens of sinewy bunches ballooned out as they approached his elbows. The guy was inhuman and Will loved it. Skye was emitting deep moans from his throat. Pure pleasure, pure bliss, pure sex, pure power. Deep, throbbing, heaves of sound reached Will’s ears. His own lust took over. He reached out to Skye’s massive cock, grabbed it with his enormous meaty hand, bent his hulking body over and started sucking. He took Skye’s thick tool down his throat in one gulp and Hoovered him, pulling the thick man-seed out of his balls directly. Skye’s growth was slowing down but his moans became louder, “Yes, Will! Suck my big fucking COCK!” He could feel his balls pull up closer to his body in preparation to launch his honey cream into Will’s waiting throat. Another wave of bliss washed over their bodies. They were completely in synch now, each feeling the god-like pure energy of the other. The intensity was earth shaking. Skye threw back his head and Will gave one more deep suck. The giant god-cock that had been gulped down began to pulse and Will prepared to receive yet more blessings from his creator. He was worshiping at the feet of his deity. Eruptions of cum coursed through Skye’s body. His prostate was pumping hard and furiously causing crashing tides of delirious euphoria to slam into both of their bodies. His cum dump went on for over a minute, a tide of manhood and fuck-seed. Will accepted every drop into his expanding gut. He felt warmth spreading out from his distended belly. Skye opened his eyes and looked down at the man at his knees. He felt heavier. He felt HUGE and he realized that he was about the same size as Will now. Fuck, he felt ALIVE. He felt like the mega-alpha that Will had recently become. It was intoxicating. Will was still greedily sucking on his massive cock, draining every last drop out of his balls. They had already started churning again so they could feed Will even more, next time in the hole between his double-mooned ass. He placed his catcher’s mitt sized hand on the back of Will’s head and stroked his hair. He didn’t know what love was until now. Neither of them did. This was something transcendent. At that moment, Skye looked down. Will was shaking—vibrating. He kept his hand on the back of Will’s head. He could feel something happening inside of Will, something planetary in magnitude and animalistic in sentiment. Will pulled his gaping mouth away from Skye’s still-hard dick and looked up at Skye, his pupils dilating even wider. Another groan burst from his throat in a constant stream becoming louder and more intense. The volume built until it sounded like a constant thunder. His eyes were still locked on Skye’s. Suddenly, the hand that Skye had placed on the top of Will’s head shot up. Will was stretching upward. On his knees he was now at eye level with Skye. The never took their eyes off of each other. Fuck, he was growing to huge proportions. Will’s body was blowing outward in great powerful tides. Dozens of pounds of hard meat packed onto his expanded frame by the second. His pecs became so huge, they were pushing him away from Skye by a couple of feet. His traps were creeping up the side of his thick, veiny neck, growing above his ears. The great slope of them descending until assaulting the beachball sized boulders that capped Will’s shoulders. Skye remembered this moment from a dream he had long before this moment. He remembered the two of them in the field and remembered Will growing to incomprehensible proportions. That dream had come true. It was just as he remembered it. Will stood up. He was now a true titan. Even at Skye’s considerable height of almost seven feet, his eyes only reached to Will’s nipples. But the mass was unbelievable. Will had become nearly as wide as he was tall. His lats spread out like a hang-glider’s wings. He was devastating. Skye reached up and placed his big meaty hand on Will’s pec—over his heart. “It’s about fucking time, Big Man!” Their hearts were still beating together. They didn’t even need to speak anymore. They both just knew what the other was thinking, feeling, wanting, without saying a word. “Let’s go take care of Jesse.” Will spoke and it sounded like thunder or a landslide. It was pure unadulterated masculinity. “Yes, let’s.” The two gigantic beasts moved toward the jail. They moved like a wolf pack of two, scanning the horizon, moving with skill and fluidity. Skye could feel the protective possessive nature of Will moving next to him and he realized that Will did indeed want to kill Jesse. “We can’t kill him Will. If we do, then we are murders and we will never be left alone. As big and powerful as we are, we will get chased and hounded forever.” “I want to rip his heart right out of his little weak body. I want to show it to him as he fades away from this earth! He fucked with the wrong guy when he attacked you.” “Let ME take care of Jesse. I want his punishment to come from me.” Will paused a moment. They were near the front of the building. Skye wanted to take care of Jesse, so he would of course stand back and let Skye handle his revenge. “That doesn’t mean that you can’t destroy everything in that building for your own sport. Just leave the little scrawny piece of shit to me,” Skye said. They walked ahead toward the front entrance, naked, erect, and with a frightening determination in their eyes. They walked right through the plate glass doors, not pausing to open them. Will’s width took the heavy metal frames with him as he walked forward. The sound of bricks and concrete being torn from the walls made a loud deep rumbling sound. The officer at the desk looked on the advancing monsters, his eyes popping open. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Fuck me!” he whispered to himself. Skye shot him a look that made him cower. “Maybe later,” he said with a smirk. “Hey, stop! STOP!” The officer unholstered his weapon and fired two shots, both hitting Will in the shoulder. He wheeled around. It felt like a mosquito bite to him. He looked down and saw the bullets on the floor. They had hit his skin and just fell away. The two moved down the main hallway, Skye in front of Will. Although Skye was massive, Will’s height and width were causing lights to be knocked off of the ceiling and moldings around doors to explode when coming into contact with his shoulders. They passed a door: SECURITY it read on the placard. Skye pushed the thick steel door open and walked inside. Panels of screens and recording devices lines the walls. “Will, you want to play in here for a few minutes? All this shit needs to be smashed.” Will looked at his man like he had just been awarded a prize. “Hell yes!” The brute tore the doorframe off walking in. He started crushing everything in the room easily. Skye just stood in the doorway, with a huge erection, smiling. “It should be free time about now. Let’s go out to the yard, shall we?” Skye looked back at Will. This was going to be fun. They walked through the common area. A few inmates were playing chess on one of the tables in the corner. They looked at the massive mountains walking through the area and both pissed themselves. The guards who Will and Skye both knew turned the corner and the muscled beasts locked eyes with them. “FUCK man. That is Will and Skye. What the fuck happened to them?” “Hey, Hey! What the fuck man?” The guards were yelling at the two titans. “We have a score to settle. Please don’t try to stop us,” Skye said flatly. Will saw the opening to the yard and lowered his shoulder, walking steadily ahead. This time he walked ahead of Skye. Pressing his mass into the wall. The entire concrete structure started to crumble as the ground shook. The men on the yard looked toward the sounds as Will pushed through the thick wall. He kept walking, never changing his pace. The inmates stared at the giants, one looking like a blond haired god, shredded and ripped beyond comprehension, and the other crazed with the mass of a long-haul truck. Several of them pissed themselves immediately and others unzipped their jumpers and took their cocks out to beat themselves off. The two giants looked like a perfect mix of sex and destruction. It was fucking HOT. Skye sauntered up to Big Matt, the man who had punched him in the nose. As he got closer, he looked down at the man cowering beneath him. “Where is Jesse, Matt?” Skye’s voice rumbled. Matt knew he was staring at a god, and he hoped god was feeling magnanimous. “There, in the weight cage.” His mouth dropped as he looked over and saw Will using his insane strength to rip the concrete pylons of the fences out of the ground. Skye knew that Will was feeling destructive—for destruction’s sake—and was still angry about his time in that jail. People were backing away from the two who were now on different sides of the yard. Will was walking around, destroying everything he saw. “Hey Will, I found our friend John over here. John wants to suck your big cock, Will.” Will came bounding over to Skye. John had a look of lust on his face. He was one of those who had pulled his mediocre cock out and started wanking at the site of the two inhuman creatures in their midst. He was salivating. “Now John, do you want to suck my dear Will’s cock? He makes gallons of cum. It’s so sweet. I told you I wouldn’t forget your kindness. I haven’t wanted anyone to suck Will’s cock since we have been together, but I feel like sharing today.” He looked to the fucking god next to him. “You want your cock sucked, honey?” The 9 foot tall mountain nodded his head like a little boy and a dangerous smile spread across his handsome face. John was quaking, but couldn’t believe that he was invited by these monstrosities to play with them. Will fell on his insanely muscular knees and offered his cock to John who then opened his mouth and started to work Will’s gaping cum slit with his tongue. “Now don’t get used to this, John. That is MY man and no one drinks from him twice, except for me.” Will moaned. Being Skye’s muscle whore was turning him on like he wouldn’t have believed. He’s do anything Skye asked, of course, and that he was pimping him out to a guy here was fucking unbelievably amazing. He wanted to be Skye’s monster slut, if only this once. John opened his mouth wide to take in Will’s enormous throbbing head. He put both hands around the thick long shaft. Will’s manhood was over two feet long, so he had a lot of room to play with. Thick viscous clear precum flooded John’s hands and he started lapping it off of Will’s tumescence. Skye just patted John on the head, like a little puppy who was pleasing its owner. “Be sure to make my man happy, John.” He smiled down at him and walked toward Jesse. Jesse had been watching the events playing out in the yard and knew that he couldn’t hide. “What the fuck are those things?” He was turned on and he was terrified. As they got closer, he realized that the larger creature was Will. It was WILL! And the most beautiful one was Skye. “OH, FUCK!” He started perspiring. He was dead now. He knew it with certainty. Will was being sucked off by that big gorilla, John. Pangs of jealousy sprouted up in his mind. That should be HIM sucking off Will. “Fuck that John guy. Fuck Skye.” “Jesse!” Skye roared as he got closer. “You tried to kill me last night you mother fucker. I am here to get payback! YOUR ASS IS MINE.” Skye was angry. He was rarely angry, but the ant in front of him had tried to kill him in bed the night before. He walked up to Jesse and bent down and grabbed him by the collar of his jumpsuit. “You wanna say anything before I get started?” “What are you going to do to me?” Jesse was trembling. He saw his life flash before him. “I’m going to make you mine! I am going to fuck you, Jesse. And then I am going to leave you. You want me to fuck you?” The thin man nodded, yes. He did want to be fucked by Skye. He was gorgeous. “You better open that hole up wide. I am going to wreck you for every other man in your life. You will always think of me… and what you did to me. Letting you live, your hole aching for my big fuck-tool will be more punishment than I can imagine. You will never see Will or myself again, but we will haunt your mind. You wont forget this moment, and it will make you crazy with lust for the rest of your life. You will suffer knowing that you had a god cock living inside of you for a moment and it will tear you apart knowing it will never happen again. You may think you are getting off easily here, but let me tell you Jesse, you will be tormented by this forever because you will NEVER have it again.” Jesse was staring wide-eyed at Skye’s cock. It was dripping lube onto the ground in long thick strings. He wanted to taste it and approached to touch Skye’s hard throbbing meat. “NO! You turn around and bend over you piece of shit. You still want this cock to destroy your insides, Jesse? Maybe having the CHANCE to get fucked by this and not taking it would be a better punishment. What do you say?” Jesse could hardly think straight. He was so overcome with lust, his mouth was salivating, and his hole was loosening in preparation to get fucked by the largest cock he had ever seen. “I want you to fuck me! FUCK ME!” He turned around and bent over the table. Skye took his leaking cockhead and rubbed it against Jesse’s tight hole and pushed in. No waiting, no loosening. Jesse yelled out in pain. Will’s eyes snapped open and looked over to see what was happening…he could only feel anger coming from Skye. He realized that Skye was going to fuck Jesse and he thought “Brilliant move Skye. Fuck that piece of dirt so hard, he never forgets what he did to you.” Jesse’s ass was being drilled. Skye was merciless. He knew he could probably kill the guy if he used more than a small part of his strength. He fucked Jesse harder. Muffled moans erupted every few seconds from Jesse’s mouth. It hurt. It felt amazing. He would never be satisfied like this again. His hole would always need more than any man could ever give him. It would be torture for the rest of his life and he now knew it. Skye felt Will about to cum. “Will, let me drink your cum!” Bellowed Skye from across the yard. John detached his mouth and hands from Will’s enormous appendage and Will ran toward his lover. Skye kept pounding little Jesse’s wrecked ass and bend slightly over so he could suck Will off to completion at the same time. He wanted to taste Will, and he had to be sure that John didn’t swallow any of the engineered virus. He clamped his thick soft lips around Will’s swollen cock and took him into his warm mouth cave. Will lasted all of five seconds. Volleys of cum rushed out of Will’s melon-sized balls and into Skye’s hungry mouth. The giant tossed back his head and yelled. It felt so fucking good. So FUCKING GOOD! Skye pumped a couple of more times into Jesse and felt that he was about to cum as well. Will’s orgasm had flipped Skye’s own switch, the waves of pleasure ripping through Will’s mind spread out to his partner. He pulled out of Jesse, leaving a gaping open hole, quivering, begging for more. The cool air of outside licked the insides of Jesse as it rushed in after Skye removed himself. Jesse had never felt so empty. “If I can’t feel that again, maybe I wish I were dead,” he thought to himself. Will cleaned off Skye’s fuck-stick with spit and his hand. He polished Skye’s knob and Skye shuttered. Kneeling again on his knees, Will took Skye once again into his mouth. He wanted that sweet caramel-y nectar to flood his stomach. “You ready to grow again Will? You ready to get bigger, my Big Man?” The orgasm once again exploded vast quantities of jism out of Skye and into Will’s waiting stomach. “Fuck, ya. Take it all in Will. You’re gonna keep growing until we tell your body to stop. Drink up.” Skye had planned that Will would continue to grow until they both were injected with an immunoglobulin that Skye had engineered to halt the viral infection that was causing their growth. With the viruses incapacitated, they could chose how big, strong, and powerful they would each become. That time would come, but it wouldn’t be now. There was still a lot of growing to do. They looked around the jail yard. It looked like dozens of men had been involved in a massive circle-jerk. Cum was everywhere. Men were still jerking off at the site of Will and Skye’s conquest of two inmates and the incredibly hot visual of Will sucking off Skye. The entire place smelled of fresh air, cum, and manhood. It was perfect. The two beasts walked toward the large opening that Will had made to get to the yard. They walked, hand in hand, down the corridor to get back outside, Skye walking ahead when the hallway narrowed. They reached the front entrance where the entire entryway had been destroyed. They could hear sirens in the distance, no doubt making their way to the jail. The guard that had offered to help Skye the day before rushed up behind them. “Hey Will, Skye. We lost our CCT feed so nothing you’ve done here was recorded. I don’t know how that happened." Skye smiled. “I wanted to give this to you. It’s my cousin's phone number. He and his boyfriend are, ummmm...different…like you two. Something happened to him not very long ago—kind of the same thing I guess. They are both fucking huge. Almost as big as you. He lives a few hours away on his family farm with his boyfriend. I think that they could help you or at least give you a place to stay while you figure things out.” The guard extended a sheet of paper out to them. Skye took it and looked down. Written in blue ink it simply said: Cliff and Shane: (509) 555-1212 =================================================================================================== * for those of you who have not read the my first story, the reference to Cliff and Shane will be missed, but believe me, it is an important reference for the future :-) I put a link here to that story below. https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4889-shane-complete-pts-1-3/
  24. Wyatt: ‘Uhh….why….no….stop’ *tosses and turns in his bunk* ‘I don’t want it….take it away….’ Roberto: ‘WAKE UP PRISONER!’ Wyatt: *jumps to his feet and nearly falls over* ‘Wha? Shit it happened again. Ahh crap I have already forgotten it.’ Roberto: ‘Time for you to shower.’ *throws a towel at Wyatt* Wyatt: ‘Are you going with me?’ Roberto: ‘Of course, I have to it is my job.’ Wyatt: ‘I assume you are going to watch me take a shower?’ Roberto: ‘Just get out of your cell and follow me.’ *directs Wyatt to the showers* Wyatt: ‘You are so cranky all the time.’ *silence* Wyatt: ‘FINE! I don’t need to talk to you anyway.’ *takes his stripes off and showers* *Roberto takes a glimpse and smiles behind him* *Wyatt turns and Roberto wipes the smile off his face* Wyatt: ‘You are watching me. Do you like what you see?’ *silence* Wyatt: ‘Come on, admit you like my ass. Even though I am small, I know my ass is nice.’ *turns to look at Roberto to get a reaction as his cock stands up* *Roberto doesn’t make a move at all* Roberto: ‘Do you mind putting your towel on please man?’ Wyatt: ‘Do I make you nervous? Come over and touch it, I want you to.’ *waits for Roberto to walk over, but he doesn’t budge* *Roberto points to the towel close to Wyatt and makes a motion to put it around his waist* Wyatt: ‘Damn, you are tough.’ *puts towel on still with hard-on* ‘I need to relieve this somehow.’ *starts stroking, but Roberto waves his finger no* Roberto: ‘NO! You won’t do that here, maybe in your cell, but not here. King would kill me if I let you do that here.’ Wyatt: ‘Wow, he has a lot of power here doesn’t he? Would something happen to you if you had sex with me, not that I would ask you to?’ *silence* Wyatt: ‘You aren’t even going to answer? DAMN!’ Roberto: ‘Yeah I’ll answer that question and the answer is NO! King gave me instructions to make sure that you behave yourself until he gets back again and that means the sexual innuendo or anything okay?’ Wyatt: ‘Alright I get it, but this hard-on has to be relieved.’ Roberto: ‘Back to your cell then man. You can do it there, but you will clean up the mess, understand?’ Wyatt: ‘Yeah I understand.’ *they walk back to the jail area and Wyatt goes back into the cell* *Roberto closes the door and moves back to his original position with his arms crossed* *Wyatt pulls his towel off and remembers that he left his stripes in the shower area* Wyatt: ‘Shit I forget my clothes, can you get me some clean ones Roberto?’ Roberto: ‘Fine, I will be back shortly with some new ones then. Remember clean up the mess you make.’ *Roberto leaves as Wyatt starts stroking his cock* *he moans as it feels so good* *after a few strokes he feels a bit strange and doesn’t notice that his body shakes a little* *he stops stroking to get up and wipe some sweat from his brow* *he goes to lean on the cell door to catch his breath as he gets a slight pain in his back* Wyatt: ‘OH GAWD, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG…..* *he feels his back stretching a bit as his spine grows and he adds height* *his chest begins to heave as it begins to grow larger and fuller* *his grip on the cell bars begins to make them creak a little as his hands and forearms swell* *he sees the veins in both arms thickening and looking like ropes as they get denser* *he feels his legs moving further away from each other as his cock lengthens and points towards the floor* Wyatt: ‘OHH YEAH *deeper voice* WHOA, IS THIS MY VOICE?’ *grabs throat* *rubs his chest and notices huge mounds of flesh and a thick stomach before flexing his massive guns covered in huge veins* *he laughs a bit as he finds his huge ass and rubs it* *his horniness is quite apparent as his cock pools precum on the ground* *he strokes it rapidly and roars with pleasure as he feels a big load building already* Wyatt: ‘MMMMM FEELS SO AMAZING….* *he shoots an enormous rope out of his cell as it hits the window in front of it* *he coats it with thick spunk and feels himself getting slightly weaker* Wyatt: ‘AHH DAMN *voice diminishes* fuck no!’ *shrinks with each rope as he regresses back to his normal size after completely cumming* *he wonders how this happened in the first place* Wyatt: ‘Is this what those dreams were about? Hmmm….now I’m curious.’ *sits and ponders as he sits naked and waits for Roberto to return with his new stripes* At the Precinct: King: ‘Jamie how did it go with Monroe?’ *sits at a table with Jamison in the lunch room* Jamison: ‘He obviously took the bait boss. The judge approved the contract without a second thought. It almost seemed too good to be true.’ *smiles from both men* King: ‘Excellent job Jamie, I will talk to you later when I get to the bar.’ *gives Jamison a firm handshake and leaves the lunch room* *cell phone rings, King answers* King: ‘King here. What are you talking about? *pauses* I did exactly what I intended to do. *seems flustered* I don’t think you need to talk to me like that. *gets more angry* Well why don’t you come down here and run the department then, jeezus crimony.’ *hangs up* *stomps into his office and sits down to vent to himself* *wonders if things down in the jail are going well and contacts Roberto on his cell* King: ‘Roberto? Where are you?’ Roberto: ‘Sir, I needed to go get the prisoner a new set of stripes, he showered and forgot to get a fresh set afterwards.’ King: ‘Oh alright, but don’t leave him unattended very long, it is hard to tell what he may do next.’ Roberto: ‘I know sir, I am on my way back now.’ King: ‘Good, we need him to trust us here because otherwise I may get myself into some trouble.’ *hangs up on Roberto and gets up to shed his dress shirt* *closes the blinds to his office and locks his door* *he stares into a mirror in the corner of his office and bounces his huge pecs* King: ‘Mmmmm damn Marquez, you are looking fine my man. If I stand here too long I just might get off on myself.’ *starts to rub his thick chest and growls a little* King: ‘Phew, I just can’t help myself.’ *undoes his belt and unzips his dress pants and pulls them off* *flexes his huge quads and marvels at their thickness and power* *growls again as he pulls his underwear off and does a full body flex* King: ‘Ahh yeah I am looking so hot.’ *pinches his nipples and growls a little louder* *watches his huge cock get erect and bounce up and down before dripping a little precum* King: ‘COME ON MARQUEZ I KNOW YOU CAN SHOOT THAT LOAD.’ *wills his cock to cum without touching it as it squirts more precum this time on to the mirror* King: ‘YEAH RAWR, COME ON BIG MAN I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT. COME ON!’ *his cock begins to swell a little bigger as if it is about to grow* *he roars as he feels it building and drawing closer to the edge* King: ‘FUCK YEAH, OH YEAH, SHOOT THAT HUGE LOAD MARQUEZ. AWWW FUCK!’ *solid white ropes coat the entire mirror as he laughs at the sheer force it commands* *he moves the mirror into the nearby bathroom as he hears a knock on the door* *he races to put his outfit back on before he opens the door* King: ‘Just a minute, I need to get something done before I can help you.’ Ashe: ‘YOU BETTER OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I AM CALLING THE MAYOR!’ *realizes it is Ashe, the current city council chairman and former lover and gets up to open the door before he buttons up his dress shirt* King: ‘Eddie, what a pleasant surprise I…..’ *Ashe interrupts* Ashe: ‘Jerking off again Marc? Yep, I see the fucking puddle over here, when will you grow up? I feel sorry for your coworkers here. What a sty this is.’ King: ‘Well hello to you too. What brings you here today?’ *sits down in his chair while Ashe stands by the door* *Ashe looks irritated* Ashe: ‘Really? You do know I keep tabs on everything you do here. We do fund this department after all.’ King: ‘So…..is there a problem?’ *Ashe stares at him with that same irritated look* *King smiles and bounces his pecs* Ashe: ‘The money Marc. Where is the money going that we are giving you?’ *King bounces his pecs faster* *Ashe gets pissed* ‘STOP DOING THAT!’ King: ‘You used to always like it when I did that.’ *Ashe goes over to an empty chair and hesitates* *Decides to remain standing* Ashe: ‘I want answers right now damnit! What are you doing with….’ *King interrupts* King: ‘Research. We are using it on research……for the department.’ *Ashe looks puzzled* Ashe: ‘What? Are you kidding me? I want more specifics. What is this research that you are going on about?’ King: ‘Guys are getting hurt out in the field quite a bit so we started up a new program to look into a way to boost their performance and help prevent injuries.’ Ashe: *seems confused* ‘I don’t know what to think about that. You don’t normally lie to me so I guess I could buy that. Send me a copy of this ‘research program’ and I will talk to the council about sending you more funds.’ *stares at King’s chest and smirks* Ashe: ‘I admit, you do look amazing Marc. Are you on this program?’ King: *smiles and even laughs a little* ‘Maybe. Do you think it is working?’ *flexes his bicep and watches as it stretches his sleeve to its limits* ‘Keep watching…..’ *he squeezes his bicep until the sleeve splits* Ashe: *rolls eyes* ‘You haven’t changed at all dumbass. I will talk to you later.’ *leaves the office and closes the door* King: *talks to himself* ‘Hmmmm…..I didn’t think I would have feelings for Wyatt already. He is such a prime candidate for this program. I just wonder when he will start to show any type of transformation.’ *sits back in his chair and sighs* *he wonders if he will have to make a choice in the future of whether or not to let go of Wyatt or become his partner* At an Unknown Lab Institution: Chemist: *looks under microscope* ‘Hmmm….doesn’t seem right….Wincott where did this sample come from?’ Wincott: ‘Doctor I think it was sent here from the SVU department. Do you need me to call them and find out who it belongs to?’ Chemist: ‘Hold on a minute, I think I am getting some reaction here.’ *reaches for dropper filled with fortified sperm* *squeezes a little onto the slide* Chemist: ‘WHOA, Wincott get over here.’ Wincott: ‘Okay, what do you have there doctor?’ Chemist: ‘A delayed reaction is what we have here, take a look.’ *moves to allow his assistant to take a peek* Wincott: ‘Wow, this prisoner’s cells reacted violently when the sperm came in contact with them. Whose sperm is this anyway?’ Chemist: ‘Hmmm looks like Marquez King. How long has he been in the program?’ *checks logbook for verification* Wincott: ‘Quite a long time I imagine doctor.’ Chemist: *confirms date of entry* ‘Indeed Wincott. Sixteen years precedes the program by a mile. Wait? Sixteen years?’ *eyes get huge* ‘How is this possible?’ Wincott: ‘He would have had to of been a test subject to be from 1997, quite young in fact.’ Chemist: ‘We really need to talk to him because this is unreal.’ Wincott: ‘Wait doctor.’ *looks concerned* ‘It may not be wise to interfere in ‘his’ matters.’ Chemist: *seems confused* ‘Exactly who are you talking about Wincott?’ Wincott: *looks worried* ‘The headmaster doctor. He is the one responsible for starting this whole program. He has a small clan of men recruiting petty criminals so they can be experimented on. Obviously Marquez King is one of those men.’ Chemist: ‘Well, we have his sperm here Wincott and it is extraordinarily powerful. I still think we should talk to him. Get me an appointment to see him tomorrow.’ Wincott: *grabs cell phone* ‘Fine, but I won’t be involved in this. You are going to get yourself into a mountain of trouble doctor.’ *dials SVU* ‘I would like to speak to Officer King please.’ *transfer into King’s office* *King answers* King: *picks up office phone* ‘Who is this?’ Wincott: ‘Officer King, I am Devin Wincott from Sierra Labs. The head scientist of my research department would like to speak to you about your ‘sample’ you had sent to us for study. He wants to see you in person though.’ King: *smiles and makes a funny noise* ‘I almost forgot I sent that, sure I will speak to him. When does he want to come here?’ Wincott: ‘Tomorrow sir. Is this possible?’ King: ‘Sure, but I will have to go to a few meetings first. He can contact me in the late afternoon, I can’t give you a specific time because these meetings can sometimes last longer than they should.’ Wincott: ‘I will let him know officer, have a great day then.’ *clicks cell off as King hangs up* Chemist: ‘I heard what you said. Thank you Wincott for your assistance, your shift is over now I will talk to you tomorrow.’ *Wincott leaves the lab area and goes into the scrubs section* *someone follows him inside* *he turns and sees them staring at him* *he looks surprised, but not frightened* Wincott: ‘How did you get in here? I thought they took your credentials away from you?’ *the person sits down on a bench located across from the scrubs rack* *they start to speak* Person: ‘Don’t worry about me getting in here, I just need to know what Dr. Chizik is working on right now.’ Wincott: ‘He is using a sample from the SVU department and it contains some really powerful sperm too.’ Person: ‘Whose is it? Come on, you can tell me Devin we have a history you know.’ Wincott: ‘His name is Marquez King. He runs SVU and has some strong connections.’ Person: *keeps a straight face* ‘Thank you Devin I appreciate your cooperation.’ *hugs Wincott as he stands and even kisses him on the lips* ‘You know I really miss the good old days of us together in medical school.’ Wincott: ‘I miss them too Corbin. Is that all you needed was to know what Dr. Chizik was working on?’ Corbin: ‘Yes and I may be paying him a visit soon too.’ *turns to leave* *Wincott changes out of his scrubs and into civilian clothes* *Corbin walks out of lab facility and into his tinted car* *he dials a number on his cell and Bluetooth picks up call* Corbin: *speaks into Bluetooth* ‘Get me the headmaster. I need to speak to him.’ Computer: *HEADMASTER WALLACE FOUND* Corbin: ‘Sir are you there? This is Corbin Abrams.’ Headmaster: ‘It is about time you called me Abrams, what do you have for me?’ Corbin: ‘I got into Sierra Labs again. My ex, Devin Wincott is working with a chemist that has obtained a sample of an officer by the name of Marquez King, do you know him?’ Headmaster: ‘Hmmm Marquez King, I think I do Abrams. I want you to find out exactly what that chemist is doing with that sample and find out why that officer sent it to him in the first place.’ Corbin: ‘I will do that for you sir. Oh, I want to know when I will be privileged enough to enter the program.’ Headmaster: *pauses and laughs* ‘Don’t worry Abrams, your time will come. Just get to the bottom of this for me and we will go from there.’ Corbin: ‘Alright, it is an honor to serve you headmaster.’ Headmaster: ‘I am fortunate to have someone loyal like you too Abrams. I need you to hang up before someone tracks this call unless you are in the ‘car’.’ Corbin: ‘I am sir, but I will hang up anyway.’ Headmaster: ‘Good, get going then.’ Computer: *PHONE CALL ENDED* *Corbin drives off* *Headmaster Wallace stands in his study in his lakeside mansion* Wallace: *hears a knock on his door* ‘Come in and it better be good.’ Wife: ‘Edward, do you even care that our son is incarcerated for hitting that man?’ Wallace: ‘He has always fumbled through life Colette. It is time for him to figure out how to deal with something of this magnitude. Besides I’m not that worried about him.’ *Colette slams the door* *Wallace goes to look out onto his huge balcony and stares out into the lake* *he talks to himself* Wallace: ‘That boy doesn’t realize how special he is. I just hope that King doesn’t fuck this up or I will have to get rid of him permanently.’ *rolls his right hand over his face and silver beard* Wallace: ‘I sometimes wonder if all of this was really worth it. I mean I haven’t used the stuff for years.’ *realizes he is just talking to himself and smiles* ‘What am I doing? If that woman hears me saying this shit, she will fuck it up for good.’ *turns to go back inside the study and shuts the doors and closes the blinds*
  25. This story is Chapter 2 of Andrew Meets JP in Washington DC. It will be made up of the last part of JP Episode 20 and the first part of JP Episode 21. Before I had written Chapter 1 a couple of months ago, I secured his permission to use JP in my story: https://muscle-growth.org/index.php?app=members&module=messaging&section=view&do=showCoversation&topicID=23174 Remember, the JP Episodes are told from Matt's point of view and my story is told from Andrew and JP's point of view. Since copy and paste STILL won't work for me in this forum, this will be a chapter in progress. As before, the JP STORY sections will be separated from mine by a line of equal signs: =============================================== ANDREW'S RECRUITING SUMMER CHAPTER 2: REVELATIONS From: JP EPISODE 20: THE MORNING AFTER (July 5th, 2005): After briefly washing up in the bathroom, we headed downstairs and into the kitchen. There, my mom greeted us like she always did when JP slept over - with a glowing smile and a huge serving of breakfast. "Good morning, boys," she gleamed, rubbing JP's extremely short hair with her hand. "It's nice to see your hair beginning to grow back in. I practically died when you shaved it." JP bit his lip, avoiding my mom's smile. He had become like a second son to her, which only subjected him to her torturous criticisms. "Promise me never to cut that beautiful head of hair God gave you." My boyfriend laughed. "I promise, Mrs. Andersson." "I hope scrambled eggs are fine with you," she commented. We gestured that they were great, having already dove into our plates. I had never felt hungrier in my life. "I made a lot. I'm sure you two are starving from all that excitement last night." I almost choked on my food when she said that. JP looked over at me, grinning wildly. Luckily, my mom's back was to us, so she didn't pick up on it. I knew she was talking about the fireworks, but little did she know what else she could've been talking about. Once we had finished eating and cleared the table, JP and I sat back down. My mom, about to start washing the dishes, looked over at us. "What's up?" she asked, noticing that we didn't run off like we usually did. "There's, uh, something I want to talk to you about, Mom," I started nervously. My mom put down the dish towel and placidly - to my surprise - walked around the counter and slowly sat down across from JP and me. "What is it?" she questioned expectantly. She was being rather calm about all this, which only made me more nervous. My heart was pounding in my chest; my head was spinning frantically. What was I doing? I thought to myself. Am I really ready for this? JP, seemingly sensing my insecurity, moved his leg so that his knee touched mine, letting me know that he was next to me. "Mom," I stuttered, "I, um, I'm, uh..." I side-glanced over at JP. He was looking at me encouragingly. Finally, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and just let it out. "We're gay." ==================================================================================================================== Meanwhile, to the east, in the Comfort Inn Pentagon City, Andrew and Carrie woke up in their king-sized bed and smiled at each other. "Hey baby," Andrew crooned, hugging Carrie gently in his massive arms. "How did you sleep?" "I slept just fine Big Man, thanks to your massive muscles keeping me warm all night," Carrie replied with a sexy smile. She looked up at Andrew's massive shoulders and chest, sighing in satisfaction. "Last night was great: meeting JP and his friends Matt and Chrissy. "Do you think JP and Matt will be able to secure their parent's permission to come on the Ohio State recruiting visit with us?" "Since they both want to go to that school, the answer will be yes Carrie," Andrew reminded her, stepping out of bed with his girlfriend in his arms. "Of course, meeting their parents for supper tonight will go a long way." "Yeah, if their parents admire you even half as much as JP does, they'll have no problem trusting you with their sons' safety," Carrie assured him, smiling as Andrew gently carried her(pardon the pun) into the bathroom. And a whole lot more, Andrew thought to himself, as he turned on the shower. He had no idea what was going on at Matt's house that morning, but he would soon find out. ===================================================================================================================== FROM JP EPISODE 21: THE SMILE (July 5th, 2005): Have you ever had that time in your life when you were knowingly heading into the unknown, that place of uncertainty so terrifying that you were unsure of how it was going to turn out? It consumed every part of you, every thought, every feeling, that you were almost paralyzed, but you somehow ventured there nonetheless. That was how I felt about coming out to my mom that early July morning. Mind you, it wasn't like I didn't want to tell here the truth - I did - but it was really the fear of what she would say or do when I finally told her. Her father had been a strict Lutheran minister back in Minnesota, so I knew first-hand how conservative our family was. I mean, my grandfather had nearly flipped out when my mom had gotten engaged to my dad, a Catholic. What would she say about this? Would she accept my homosexuality and my love for JP? Would she be able to understand that I couldn't possibly imagine being with anyone else but him? Would this change her view of him as a person? That's why when I uttered those two small words that morning, my whole world came to a sudden and staggering halt, waiting for the response that would surely change my life. There was no way I could take back what I said - it was already out there. My mom looked at me calmly for a long agonizing moment. It was probably only a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. In her eyes, I swore I saw the look of pain a mother feels when her child disappoints her and my mind raced. Shit, I thought to myself, this is it. I braced myself for what was to come next. Every nightmare passed through my head - I was never going to be allowed to see JP again; I was going to be sent to some kind of boarding school or something. This was not going to be pretty. But then, something happened that I could never have predicted. She smiled. I let my mouth slip open in utter shock. What did this mean? None of my fears had ever included this reaction from her, which only made me more horrified. I glanced over at JP, who I could tell was doing his best to stay as stoic as usual, probably for my sake. "I was wondering when you were finally going to tell me," my mom said gently. "What?" I responded, more instinctively than consciously. She smiled again and looked at me with the most caring eyes I'm sure she could manage. I knew this was as hard for her as it was for me. "I've known for a long time," she continued. "I've known ever since that first night you brought JP home for dinner that you two were in love." "You have?" I asked, dazed by her revelation. My mom nodded. "It was the way you two looked at each other." I didn't notice JP suddenly flinch, and I had no way of knowing that he was suddenly remembering that Andrew also knew their secret, by the same set of signs. Then, my mom briefly looked away, as if embarrassed. "But it was only confirmed when I walked in on the two of you one morning-" she nervously cleared her throat "- cuddling in your bed." JP shifted uneasily in his seat. Oh fuck! I shut my eyes in humiliation. An extremely awkward pause followed, as I frantically tried to think of what to say next. "So...you're ok with it?" I finally asked hopefully. "No," she answered flatly, but with a tinge of regret in her voice. I felt my heart collapse. But then she raised her eyes to mine: the most sincere eyes I had ever seen coming from her. "But..." she started, "I don't know how to say this." Pressing her fingers against her forehead, she let out a sigh. There was nothing I could think of to help her, half expecting her to burst into tears out of disappointment in me. Instead, she looked up at JP with her strong eyes. His eyes however, were almost panicky, unsure of how to take in what he was seeing and hearing. "JP," she tried again, "you are the nicest, most mature and most caring young man I have ever had the privilege to meet. I can completely see why my son has fallen in love with you." She paused, slowly turning towards me. "And that's why I have no choice but to accept this." Oh my God, I thought to myself. She couldn't possibly be saying what I thought she was saying. I looked at her questioningly. "Matthew," she went on, "when you were born, your father and I had the greatest of expectations for you. We wanted you to grow up to be strong, healthy, successful and, most of all, happy. We both promised to try our hardest to raise you the best we could." Oh shit, here it comes, I thought. This is the part where she starts blaming herself. I closed my eyes again, not wanting to witness my mom falling apart. "Meeting JP was the best thing that has ever happened to you," she said softly. Huh? My eyes immediately darted back to her with surprise and relief. "You have become stronger and happier since you met him," she continued, "and that is the best thing that your dad and I could ever have hoped for. I don't necessarily agree with or understand your being gay, but I recognize the love you boys have for each other. And I do know that the worst thing I could ever do to you, Matthew, is to tear you apart from him and make you unhappy." My mouth dropped open and I felt like I was about to cry. I had never for a moment believed that my mom would have this reaction to me and JP coming out to her. I couldn't possibly have asked for better; I didn't know what to say. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a near-whisper. "And I promise you that I will try my hardest to accept this," she said, a sudden waver entering her tone which up until then had been steady. "I love you, no matter what - you know that." A tear escaped her eye and began rolling down her cheek. She immediately raised a hand up to her face in a vain attempt to hide it. I also fought back a storm of tears that were welling up in my eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but the lump in my throat kept any sound from getting out; my lower lip just quivered uncontrollably. "Thank you Mrs. Andersson," I heard JP say softly, knowing that I was temporarily frozen with emotion. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my boyfriend turn his head towards me, a deep look of concern on his face. Damn, I loved him so much! He was so good to me! "You're welcome JP," my mom responded, smiling slightly at him. She looked back at me, still silent, and reached out here hand to my arm. Her touch was warm and almost comforting. "Thanks," I croaked, barely able to get that one word out of my throat. I kept looking down at the table, avoiding my mom's eyes, afraid that I would lose it if I looked at her. "Well," she sighed, standing up, "why don't you two go upstairs and get dressed and I'll finish the dishes here." Knowing that I desperately needed time to think, it was the only thing she could have suggested at the moment. JP helped me out of my chair and guided me upstairs to my bedroom. ===================================================================================================================== Meanwhile, in their hotel, Andrew, Mike and Carrie had gotten dressed and gone down to the hotel dining room for breakfast. Andrew was pretty quiet as they ate breakfast: feeling uncomfortable with the secret knowledge he had about JP and Matt's relationship. "You look worried Andrew; what's bothering you?" Carrie asked him as they began eating, noticing the concerned look on his face. "I'd rather not discuss it right now Carrie; let's wait until we're alone," Andrew informed her. "It's a very delicate subject in this country, unlike ours, and that is the only hint I'm going to give you." Carrie furrowed her brow in confusion and then she suddenly remembered seeing Matt gazing longingly at JP the night before at the National Mall. A sudden look of understanding came over her face and she looked up at Andrew to see if her hunch was right. A slight nod of confirmation from him was Carrie's proof that she was right, and she suddenly felt butterflies in her stomach as she imagined what was going on between Matt and JP at that moment. ===================================================================================================================== Once my door was closed behind us, I burst into tears. JP immediately took me in his arms, offering me his shoulder to bury my face into. It felt so good to just let loose right there with my boyfriend protecting me. I couldn't have asked for anything more from him. "It's alright," he comforted me, rubbing my back with his strong hands. "Just let it out." I had the feeling that he was almost as overwhelmed as I was, but we both knew that he needed to stay strong for my sake.. and it was working. My quiet sobs began to subside and I looked up into JP's eyes, my face still wet from crying. "I am in such awe of you," he whispered to me, taking my head in his hands. "I can only imagine how much courage that took." "It's because of you," I sniffed, my voice cracking like mad. JP shook his head and grinned. "Matt, you did most of that yourself; we both know that," he assured me. "No," I said, shaking my head and sitting down on my bed, "my mom only reacted that way because she loves you like a second son." JP sighed as he sat down next to me but he didn't interrupt. "She thinks you're amazing. She wouldn't have said those things if you hadn't been there." I was almost to the point of tears again. "What I'm trying to say is... you're too perfect. I don't deserve you." JP bit his lip and kneeled down in front of me. "Matt, listen to me," he said firmly. "She said those things because she thinks that you are amazing." "JP," I groaned with frustration, rolling my head away from him. Surely he was just saying that to make me feel better. "No Matt, wait," he protested, directing my attention back down to his eyes again. "Your mom said it herself - she loves you, no matter what. Even if I wasn't here, she would still feel the same way." I looked at my boyfriend like I didn't believe him..,. and I didn't. I also remembered how my mom had mentioned how much happier and stronger I had become since meeting JP. Surely JP, with his near-genius mind, had not forgotten that part of the conversation! "Come on: look," he said, pulling me up and bringing me in front of the bedroom mirror. "Look in the mirror," he instructed me. "What do you see?" "Me, standing next to the most perfect body in the world," I answered stubbornly. JP rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperation. "Will you stop looking at me for once and look at yourself for a minute?" he asked impatiently. He put his hands on my shoulders and stood behind me. God, I looked like crap; my eyes were all puffy from crying. "You have a killer body, you're gorgeous and you have the most stunning eyes anyone could ask for." I blinked as his words penetrated my stubbornness and looked into the mirror more clearly this time. In a way, he was right. The reflection I saw staring back at me was one that I could only have dreamed of a year ago. I was in the best shape of my life: my muscles were well-defined and I looked like a top athlete. I may not have been the Adonis that my boyfriend was, but I still looked pretty good. JP wrapped his arms around my chest and placed his chin on my shoulder. "But best of all, you're a strong person on the inside as well," he assured me. "You have a huge heart and you are so caring to those around you. But that's something you've always had." His voice was almost down to a whisper now. "Why else do you think I fell in love with you?" Now I understood what he was trying to tell me. While my mom struggled with my homosexuality, she still loved me for who I was and always would. But there was something else: most importantly, she recognized my love for my boyfriend as one that was real. She was willing to put aside her own prejudices for our sake, knowing that we would be happier if she did. In a way, it was truly brave and mature of her, and I loved her even more for it. Somehow that morning, I was closer to my mom than I had been in a long time, and definitely since before the divorce. =============================================================================================================================== Meanwhile, Andrew and his friends had finished breakfast and were in their hotel room packing for the afternoon with JP and Matt at Burke Lake Park. "How exactly do we get to Burke Lake Park Andrew?" Carrie asked him. "Is it on the Washington area map?" "No it isn't Carrie, but let's check Windows Live Maps and see if we can find it," Andrew replied, stepping over to his laptop on the desk. As he sat down, he noticed Mike come out of his bedroom with the two backpacks. "Go downstairs and put the two bags in the car Mike; Carrie and I will be down with the map in a few minutes," he said, tossing his car keys to his big friend. "Are you trying to get me out of the way so that you can discuss something private with Carrie?" Mike guessed. "How did you figure that out Mike?" Andrew asked in astonishment, turning to face him. "I saw the looks you and Carrie were exchanging during breakfast," Mike replied. "You seem to forget that I'm just as smart as you are." "Probably even smarter, since I didn't think that you noticed Carrie and I exchanging our secret looks of understanding," Andrew said, looking nervous suddenly. But then he grinned and added, "But if you're half as smart as you think you are Mike, you'll know not to bring up the subject again until I'm ready to discuss it with you." He flexed his massive bicep to emphasize his last statement (pardon the pun), and glared at his big friend. "We both know what will happen if you make me mad Mike; we found out last football season when all those opposing players left the field on stretchers!" "Yeah Andrew, I remember," Mike assured him, looking scared for a split second before he regained his composure. "You're the only football player on the team who has a black belt in several martial arts and knows Infantry unarmed combat skills as well!" "Yeah man, if I wasn't in the Infantry Reserves, I'd probably have to register my hands and feet as lethal weapons," Andrew realized soberly. "I never realized until now just how many ways I could kill someone: with just a hand or a foot or even a strategically-placed finger." "Yes, as Kirk once famously said about Spock: 'Aroused, your great physical strength could kill,'" Mike suddenly realized, his look of fear returning. "Then don't make me mad Big Man; get downstairs now," Andrew growled without even a hint of a smile. When Mike just stared at him in fear, Andrew added, "I've got another quote for you, this time from Police Academy: 'Now Mister! Move it, move it, move it!" "Sure thing man; I'm gone," Mike stammered, heading quickly for the door. "See you downstairs Andrew," he added, as he stepped into the hallway. "Not if I see you first Mike," Andrew corrected him, grinning to let his big friend know that he wasn't really mad. Mike grinned as he walked down the hall and out of sight. Andrew turned to look at Carrie, who wasn't able to erase the look of terror from her face in time to keep Andrew from seeing it. "Hey Baby, don't worry, I was just kidding around: acting tough so that Mike doesn't forget that I'm the boss around here," Andrew assured her. "After all, he's just as big and strong as I am, and he may even exceed me in size and strength one day, considering how big his brother is!" "You may have been kidding around about being angry, but I've been to all your martial arts classes over the years," Carrie reminded him. "So I know all too well how lethal you could be in a fight, especially since you're so big and strong!" "Yeah Carrie, but I only use a tiny fraction of my great strength on you," Andrew assured her, lifting her up gently until she could look into his eyes. He adjusted his grip on her waist slightly and then lifted one massive hand to her face, stroking it softly with a feather light touch. As Carrie's eyes closed in bliss, Andrew grinned and leaned closer. "See Carrie, you have nothing to be scared of," he whispered in her ear. "I'd never hurt you with my great strength; it's a lot more fun to pleasure you with my gentle touch." "And perhaps one day when we get engaged, we could go all the way," Carrie whispered back, opening her eyes. Andrew hesitated and Carrie added, "I know you're really scared that you'd hurt me by accident if you got too excited during sex Andrew, but remember that I'm just as nervous as you are: just for a different reason." "Yeah Carrie; it will be the first time for both of us," Andrew realized, setting her down on her feet gently. "That means that our virginity will be the greatest gift we can give each other." "Maybe an early Christmas Present before we go off to college next fall?" Carrie asked hopefully. "Maybe Carrie, but first, I can now share with you my realization from last night," Andrew said, closing the door to the hallway. "Matt and JP are dating just like we are," Carrie said, saving him the trouble. "There's nothing wrong with that Andrew." "Not in our country no; since we've had gay marriage legalized for two years now," Andrew agreed. "But here in America, it's still not legal and they still have Don't Ask Don't Tell in the military." "Then we won't tell anyone what we've figured out unless JP and Matt decide to discuss it with us," Carrie decided. "I'm glad we agree Carrie," Andrew said, breathing a sigh of relief. He reached out his hand and Carrie took hold of it. He squeezed her fingers gently and opened the hall door. "Now, let's go downstairs and meet Mike at my car. Then we can figure out what to do for the rest of the morning before we meet JP and Matt at Burke Lake Park at 1 pm." Carrie smiled in anticipation as Andrew locked the hotel room door. Then they went downstairs, looking forward to having a fun day with their new friends. ***************************************** This is a good place to end Chapter 2; Chapter 3 will start with a bit more of JP Episode 21 : the only part left that takes place in early July 2005. The rest of Chapter 3 will start filling in the six week gap that exists in that JP Chapter before the JP and Nick Stories join up in mid-August 2005. It was just an amazing coincidence that Andrew met JP in the same Chapter (JP Episode 18) where we first hear about JP's future protégé Nick Agelakis. And now, I can remove the (IN PROGRESS) from the title of this Chapter, which will simply be called: REVELATIONS. Coming soon: -Andrew and JP share their revelations with each other. -Andrew and his friends meet Matt's Mom and JP's parents I hope you enjoy this chapter, and the next chapter will be the first one I write where I have no existing JP Episode to draw from. So I will be extrapolating the JP character the best I can; fortunately, I have the author's permission to do so, as you can see from the link at the beginning of this chapter.