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  1. 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.
  2. * FINALLY FINISHED * "Ah, so you're JP's big brother," Andrew realized, once he heard the caller's name. "It's good to meet you man: verbally at least." "It's good to meet you too Andrew," Ryan replied, fully aware that his former coach could hear them. He didn't give voice to his thoughts: I don't want to be known as JP's brother; I'm my own man! "Once Tyler told me all about you, I looked you up on that new YouTube site and saw all your videos. You're an awesome football player man, and you'll have no trouble getting a full ride to any school you want!" "Thanks man," Andrew said, pleased that Ryan had told him how he had found out all about him. "I'm glad to have one fan at least." "Much more than just one, considering all the views your videos got," Ryan assured him sincerely. "That's part of the reason my college coach wanted me to call Coach Palmer and arrange this phone call. My coach told me to tell you that he's going to arrange an Unofficial Recruiting Visit down here for you the next time you're in Virginia." "That's very flattering man; thank him for me," Andrew said. "I'll have to give you the contact information for my high school football coach back in Orillia. He can coordinate with your college football coach to arrange everything for the visit." "It wasn't just your online videos that put you on his radar Andrew," Ryan informed him. "He also took note of your impressive performance at the football camps you attended this spring." "Well I'm glad I wasn't easy to miss," Andrew said seriously. "After all, I was among dozens of other high school football players at those camps, and I think I was the only Canadian there." "You're impossible to miss Andrew," Ryan assured him . "My coach told me that when he saw you in March, you weighed 275 pounds and stood 6 foot 7 inches tall." "Those were my old stats," Andrew said with a cocky smirk. He noticed Coach Palmer edging away to give him some privacy and added, "I'm bigger now." "How much do you weigh now Andrew?" Ryan asked him, sounding a little nervous. "305 pounds of solid muscle," Andrew replied, having detected a hint of fear in Ryan's voice. "It was a great day when I reached the average weight of an NFL lineman." "That's awesome man; I'm really happy for you," Ryan said sincerely. "Coach Palmer's no longer in hearing range Ryan; tell me how you really feel," Andrew said, just to test him. "I have been man," Ryan said seriously, hearing the slight hint of menace in Andrew's voice. I'm going to have to watch myself with him, he thought to himself. He sounds like he's just as smart as my little brother! "My coach told me that your performance at the spring football camps led to you getting offers for Unofficial Recruiting Visits throughout the Midwest." "Starting with Ohio State tomorrow," Andrew said, deliberately dropping the name of JP's hopeful college. "When do I get to meet you in person Ryan?" "You'll have to wait until your Unofficial Recruiting Visit at Virginia Tech," Ryan replied. "My coach asked me if I would be willing to be your campus guide, and I'd be glad to do it." "Thanks man," Andrew said gratefully, getting the feeling that Ryan was a really great guy under his cocky jock exterior. "You know, I just thought of a way we can see each other face-to-face even if we're probably dozens of miles apart." "You're right man, I'm in Harrisonburg off I-81 right now," Ryan agreed. "How can we see each other face-to-face without being in the same room?" he asked. "On Skype man," Andrew replied. "I have it on my laptop. Do you have it on yours?" "Sure I do man," Ryan replied with a big grin, getting excited at the notion of seeing just how big and muscular Andrew truly was. "Do you want to talk later once you get back to your hotel room?" "That sounds like a great idea," Andrew replied, anxious to see what the famous Ryan Maloney looked like. "It's a much better way for two new friends to chat long distance than on Instant Messenger." He heard a long silence on the other end of the line and hastily added, "If you want to be friends, that is." "That's fine with me Andrew," Ryan agreed eagerly. "It would be great to get to know you better and find out how you got so big and strong. Coach told me that you can bench 700 pounds for reps!" "Yeah, that's only because I couldn't find enough weight plates in your home gym to get to my max of 800 pounds tonight," Andrew said cockily. "Hopefully the gym at Virginia Tech has enough weight plates to challenge me." "Wow!" Ryan shouted in astonishment after another long silence. "You're insanely strong man; I bet you can bust through any defensive line effortlessly!" "Yeah I can man, but I always help the other players up afterwards to be a good sport," Andrew said seriously. "No sense being a sore winner." "I've heard of sore losers, but what's a sore winner?" Ryan asked curiously. "A sore winner is someone who gloats about his victory, acting cocky and arrogant as he rubs his success in other people's faces," Andrew replied. He decided to be completely honest with Ryan about his younger brother and added, "Kind of like how JP was during his last workout with you this spring." "So he told you about that, did he?" Ryan asked angrily. "No, I kind of tricked it out of him," Andrew replied. "I'll tell you more when we chat on Skype tonight, but I'd better text you my contact information on Skype now." "Don't forget your cell phone number Andrew, and ask Coach Palmer for mine," Ryan reminded him. "Thanks man," Andrew said gratefully, pleased that he and Ryan could keep in touch. "You know, it might be hard for you to confirm you got the text while you're on the phone with me," he suddenly realized. "Do you have a notepad you can write on instead?" "Good idea man; yeah I do," Ryan replied. After a few seconds, he said, "Go ahead Big Guy, I'm ready." Andrew quickly gave him all the required information and then Ryan returned the favour, once Andrew pulled out his cell phone. "I've got all your contact information Ryan," Andrew said. "I'll text you when I get back to my hotel and then we can meet face-to-face on Skype." "I look forward to it Andrew," Ryan said sincerely. "Get Coach Palmer back on the phone. I want to thank him for arranging this cell phone call with you this evening." "That's a good idea Ryan," Andrew said, signalling Coach Palmer to come closer. Once Coach Palmer stepped up beside him, Andrew added, "It was great talking to you man; I'll see you on Skype later tonight." "Goodbye Andrew," Ryan said, before Andrew handed Coach Palmer's cell phone back to him. Andrew waited patiently while Ryan filled Coach Palmer in on all that he had discussed with Andrew. Once the call was over, Coach Palmer turned to Andrew and said, "Very good Andrew: now you have another Unofficial Recruiting Visit lined up for this summer, hosted by one of my best players no less! Ryan thinks a lot of you and he'll be very happy to host a big man like you on campus!" "Yeah, and I'll enjoy being hosted by the Big Man on Campus," Andrew said with a big grin. "Very funny Andrew, making a play on my words like that!" Coach Palmer chuckled. "Hey, I don't just have brawn, I actually have brains as well!" Andrew reminded him with a cocky smirk. "I know that now Andrew," Coach Palmer assured him with an indulgent smile. "But since we're standing on the football field, how about you show me just how skilled you are at using your brawn. I can see that you're already prepared, since you're holding your football." He noticed Andrew's cocky smirk morph into a confident grin and added, "I'll use my digital camera to capture your performance on the field and then I can send that video to Ryan's college coach." Andrew nodded in agreement and slowly took off his football jacket. "Would you mind putting my jacket on the fence behind you Coach? I don't want it to get dirty." "You just want to leave the back of your Varsity Jacket free for a Provincial Championship patch, don't you?" Coach Palmer realized with a big grin. When Andrew nodded, he added, "Then you'd better take off your t-shirt as well, then you won't get it dirty either." Andrew grinned with excitement at the prospect of showing off his huge muscles and slowly began to peel off his skin-tight t-shirt, disguising the effort to make it look like a show for the coach. Coach Palmer's eyes widened in astonishment and more than a little fear at Andrew's massive shoulders, huge pecs, enormous biceps and eight-pack abs. "Uhhh... that's great Andrew, now jog across the field to the other end zone so that I can throw you the ball," Coach Palmer stammered. "You can catch a hundred yard pass, can't you?" "If you can throw the ball that far Coach," Andrew teased him. "I certainly can Andrew; I just hope you can run that far," Palmer said, taking the Miami Football out of Andrew's hands. "Move it Mister: that's an order!" "Yes Sir!" Andrew shouted eagerly, running down the field with huge strong strides. Coach Palmer cocked his arm back, marshalled all his strength and threw the football as high and as far as he could. He followed the flight of the ball as it arced through the air and had to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun in the west. He finally saw Andrew catch the football at the opposite end zone and he realized at that moment that none of the videos he had seen of Andrew's performance on the football field had been exaggerated. ================================================================================================================================================= Meanwhile, in a hotel room in Harrisonburg, Virginia, off Interstate 81, a strikingly handsome jock with jet black hair and piercing green eyes stood up from the couch by the window and grinned. Perfect, Ryan Maloney thought to himself. I'll be able to learn from my new friend Andrew Pearson how to get really huge and strong. With any luck, he'll pick my school over Ohio State and then we can be right beside each other on the Offensive Line. Ryan frowned as he suddenly realized something. Once I get big enough that the coach lets me play, of course. But then he grinned again when he realized that he had found the perfect reason to give Andrew for why he wanted to get bigger and stronger. He'll never know that I just want to get big enough that my little dweeb brother can never get close to beating me in anything ever again! "Who were you talking to out here Ryan?" Luke asked, stepping out of the washroom after his shower. "One of my brother's friends man," Ryan replied, turning to face his smaller friend with a smug grin on his face. "Is he a dorky band geek like your brother?" Luke asked with a sneer. "No man, in fact he's big enough to make you look like a runt," Ryan replied with a slight glare. He maximized the YouTube Video he had been watching of Andrew before Coach Palmer had texted him. "See for yourself man; keep an eye on number 3: Andrew Pearson," he said, as he sat back down on the couch. Luke and Ryan watched the highlight video of the 2004 Provincial Championship game between Andrew's team, the ODCVI Blues from Orillia, and the Eastview Wildcats from Barrie. "Wow man!" Luke shouted in astonishment once the video had ended. "You've got to convince your coach at Tech to get Andrew down there for an Unofficial Recruiting Visit this summer." "Already done man, after Tyler told me all about him," Ryan said with a cocky smirk. "And guess who gets to host him for his visit!" "You mean, you're going to be the host?" Luke asked him in surprise. "Of course man, who else?" Ryan scoffed. "Who better to host an incoming freshman than a current freshman?" He left out the part where his Tech coach had reminded him that all Redshirt Freshmen had to act as student hosts for incoming freshman prospects. "Once I showed this video to Coach, he told me to call my high school coach and set up a phone call with Andrew. And thanks to Coach Palmer calling Coach Graves, who called my dad, JP ended up bringing Andrew over to Central High School this evening. Once he got Andrew alone, Coach Palmer texted me and I called him and got to speak to Andrew. He's a really great football player, as you could see from the highlight videos." "Hey maybe you and Andrew can become teammates on the Offensive Line next fall and win a college football championship," Luke suggested. "Yeah, and maybe Andrew can show me how to get as huge and ripped as he is!" Ryan shouted in excitement, flexing his massive biceps. "Then I can leave that little dweeb brother of mine in the dust once and for all!" "That would be awesome man!" Luke shouted in excitement. "Then when you go home for Christmas you can give that brother of yours the worst present he's ever had!" "Yeah, the present of my awesome presence!" Ryan shouted, proving that Andrew wasn't the only smart guy in the state. "How will you convince Andrew to help you get bigger without revealing the real reason?" Luke suddenly asked. "Easy, I'll just tell him the truth: my coach at Tech won't let me play until I'm a lot bigger and stronger," Ryan said smugly. "Andrew will never realize that I just want to get huge to dominate my little brother so completely that he'll shrivel up and rot just like a little raisin!" "Sounds like you've got it all figured out," Luke realized. "So, enough talk; you want to head out and see what kind of summer parties JMU has to offer?" "Sure man, and maybe I can find a hot chick who wants a piece of me," Ryan sneered with a suggestive smirk. "I'll keep my cell on vibrate so that when Andrew texts me, I can get back here and see him on Skype." "You want me to come back with you?" Luke asked, as they headed out the door. "Naw man, I want to see him alone," Ryan replied. "If he sees two of us, he might think something's up when I ask him if he'll help me get bigger like him." Luke nodded in agreement as they headed down the hall. Ryan breathed a silent sigh of relief, relieved that Luke hadn't figured out the true reason that Ryan wanted to speak to Andrew alone: so that no one could horn in on the new friendship that he was hoping to form with JP's new mentor. ================================================================================================================================================= Andrew had been showing off his football skills for ten minutes, so neither he nor Coach Palmer noticed JP coming out of the high school gym. Andrew threw his football from the far end of the field to Coach Palmer, but he threw it too far and it hit JP in the chest before he could catch it. "Are you okay JP?" Palmer asked as JP fell onto his back. But then he grinned as JP rolled through the fall and back to his feet. "I guess you are okay," he realized, noticing the cocky smirk on JP's face. "Sure I am Coach; it will take a lot more than a 120 yard pass to hurt me," JP assured him; relieved that his high pain tolerance had allowed him to withstand the impact of the football. "That's the furthest I've ever seen anyone throw a football though; even Clark Kent on Smallville last season restricted himself to 60 yard passes!" "Andrew outweighs Clark by at least 80 pounds of solid muscle," Palmer said, grinning at JP's huge friend as he jogged shirtless across the field towards them. His jaw dropped in astonishment as Andrew stopped in front of him and he could only stare in awe at the sweat glistening on the body of the hulking muscle god in front of him. "Uh, very good job Andrew: your football skills are very impressive," he managed to stammer out. He turned to JP, whose eyes were as wide as his own and asked, "What did you think of Andrew's performance on the field tonight?" "It was amazing Coach; I can see why you wanted to see him tonight," JP realized. He noticed the digital camera in Palmer's hands and added, "It looks like you got a lot of good footage of Andrew's football skills. Which school are you going to send it to?" Coach Palmer and Andrew looked at each other uncertainly, unsure how to answer JP's question without making him mad. "Are you going to tell him Coach, or should I?" Andrew finally asked Coach Palmer. "Tell me what?" JP snapped, guessing that there could only be one reason why they so reluctant to name the school. "It's Virginia Tech JP," Coach Palmer replied, gambling that his position as Head Football Coach would keep him safe from JP's wrath. He was right, because all JP did was narrow his eyes slightly in anger. "I'll let Andrew tell you all about it; I've got everything I need," he added, holding up his digital camera. "See you later JP and nice meeting you Andrew." With that, Coach Palmer beat a hasty retreat into the high school, leaving Andrew alone to face JP. Andrew looked over cautiously at JP, who was glaring at him with a look of fury on his face. "Go ahead JP; let me have it for talking to your brother and then I can explain how it happened," Andrew sighed. "I ought to punch you in the face for even talking to Ryan, knowing how much I hate him!" JP snapped. "Fine, do it if you think it 'll make you feel better!" Andrew snapped back. "It won't make any difference to me; I probably won't feel it anyway!" JP roared in fury and lunged at Andrew, his right fist leading the way. SMACK! JP punched Andrew in the face with all his strength. To make his smaller friend feel better, Andrew let his head snap around from the blow, even though he didn't feel a thing. Encouraged by thinking that he had actually hurt Andrew, JP kept punching Andrew in the face, making his big friend's head rock back and forth. Andrew didn't even stumble or flinch though, and eventually JP got tired. He stopped punching Andrew in the face and settled for kneeing him in the gut instead. Soon JP's hands began to ache from punching Andrew's tough jaw and his knees felt like they had impacted a concrete wall. JP ignored the pain for a couple more minutes and kept hitting Andrew in the abs until he finally tired out and he was no longer mad. "Feel better now JP?" Andrew asked, breathing a sigh of relief that JP had stopped attacking him. Hopefully he got some of the rage at his brother out of his system by attacking me! "You look tired." "Yeah I am Andrew," JP replied, smiling when he noticed Andrew rubbing his chin with one hand and his abs with the other. As he tried to catch his breath, he added, "I'm glad I was able to hurt you a bit; that means that I'll be able to wipe the floor with Ryan the next time I see him!" "Good JP, can we go now?" Andrew asked him impatiently. "Or did you want to throw my football around for a while on an actual football field?" "That would be great Andrew," JP said excitedly. "You always know what to say to make me feel better." "And apparently I know what to do as well, since letting you punch me several times calmed you down," Andrew realized with a gentle smile. "What do you mean by 'letting' me?" JP asked him in surprise. "I mean that I could have caught all your punches if I had wanted to," Andrew replied, crossing his massive arms with a smug grin. Then he noticed JP frowning, so he decided to cheer him up. "But I figured that it would make you feel better if I acted as your human punching bag. Anytime you want to let out your frustrations by doing it again, just let me know man. Or don't; it won't matter to me because I barely felt anything anyway." "Thanks a lot Andrew; now you've made me feel worse!" JP snapped at him. "Sorry about that man, but you punched me, not the other way around," Andrew reminded him with a cocky grin. "But you don't hear me complaining about it!" "That's because you just admitted that I barely hurt you!" JP snapped in fury. "That's because I'm almost twice your size JP," Andrew reminded him. When JP glared at him, Andrew sighed and added, "But if it makes you feel any better, you did hurt me a little bit." "Not enough Andrew!" JP yelled in fury. "How am I supposed to take Ryan down if I can't even make you wince when I punch you?" "I outweigh Ryan by almost a hundred pounds," Andrew reminded him, having to clench his fists to keep from snapping back at JP. JP grinned: suddenly feeling better and Andrew grinned back at him. "Now can I tell you how I ended up talking with Ryan over the phone?" "Yes Andrew," JP replied, suddenly realizing how lucky he was that he hadn't made his huge friend mad. Andrew told him the whole story and concluded by telling JP that he would show Ryan just how big he was on Skype later that night. Then he and JP finally got to throw the football around on the field for about an hour. Andrew showed JP some of the football drills he went through as an Offensive Lineman at ODCVI. JP smiled to himself, really happy that Andrew was playing football with him: something Ryan had never done. Once they were done, it was 10 pm and getting dark. The lights around the field came on and Andrew had an idea. He stood under the uprights near his car and said, "So this is what the Friday Night Lights look like." "It's Tuesday night Andrew," JP teased him with a smirk. "Funny man JP; it was a figure of speech and you know it!" Andrew laughed. "Speaking of figures, you certainly make an imposing one with the lights behind you," JP suddenly realized, a trace of fear showing up on his face. "Then take a picture of me with my game face on," Andrew ordered him, getting down into his three point stance with one hand holding his football. Andrew glared up at the camera as if he was about to take down his opponent and JP quickly took the picture, feeling very afraid of his huge friend at that moment. "Okay Andrew, how about we try one with you smiling?" JP suggested, trying unsuccessfully to keep the fear out of his voice. "Sorry about that JP; I didn't mean to scare you," Andrew apologized. He grinned up at JP, who took another picture, and then stood up to his full height of six feet and seven inches. "There now JP: we've played football, taken some pictures, met your wrestling coach and you've used me as a human punching bag. Are you ready to go home now?" "Yeah Andrew, and I'm really excited about tomorrow's recruiting visit to Ohio State," JP said with a big grin on his face. "The Ohio State JP," Andrew teased him, finally putting his t-shirt back on. He noticed JP mock-glaring at him and laughed. "Don't look at me like that man; you're the one who corrected me about that earlier today!" "You're right Andrew," JP realized, as they headed to Andrew's truck with their Varsity Jackets slung over their shoulders. As they reached Andrew's truck, he asked, "So what are you going to do when you get back to your hotel with Carrie and Mike?" "I'm going to call Ryan on-" Andrew began, before having to catch JP's fist in mid-punch. "Don't try that again JP: you've hit me enough for one night," Andrew growled in fury. He gave JP's fist a slight squeeze until JP winced in pain. "Do you get the point now man? I can catch your punches anytime I want to!" "Yes Andrew, I've got it!" JP gasped in pain. "Can you let me go now?" "Sure man; I've made my point," Andrew replied, releasing his iron grip on JP's fist. JP massaged his sore hand and Andrew said, "Why do you insist on asking questions that you don't want to hear the answer to?" "I don't know Andrew," JP replied, as they got into Andrew's truck. "I guess I'm just too curious for my own good." "Yeah, you seem to have forgotten that cautionary tale about the cat who was too curious," Andrew realized. "Don't even joke about that Andrew!" JP begged him. Andrew looked over and a look of concern came over his face when he saw how scared JP looked. "Aroused, your great physical strength could kill! And I only felt a tiny sample of it when you squeezed my fist!" "I'm sorry about that man, but you made me mad for a moment there," Andrew informed him. "I was in a really bad mood all last fall and the results weren't pretty." "Why was that Andrew?" JP asked, as Andrew started driving them back to JP's house. "My grandpa had a stroke last fall, just after I graduated Basic Reserves Training," Andrew replied. "I was really worried about him during football season, since he was confined to a wheelchair and could barely speak. Fortunately, my parents were able to bring him to every game, but then my nemesis David Harrington insulted him and I just lost it and punched him in the face, giving him a bloody nose. The next punch knocked him out. If Steve, Darrel and Mike hadn't pulled me away, I would have killed him with my bare hands!" JP just stared at Andrew in speechless terror as his big friend's face turned red with fury and his hands turned white on the steering wheel. Andrew looked over at JP, still furious from the bad memories, and saw the look of terror on his face. He started taking a few deep breaths to calm down and was relieved to see the normal look of confidence return to JP's face. JP wisely decided to wait until Andrew had calmed down completely before he asked, "What happened next Andrew?" "Coach Everson suspended me for two games and my parents chewed me out hard when we got back home," Andrew remembered, looking embarrassed. "I actually stayed in a hotel that weekend, not wanting to deal with anyone. Then when I got home from school on Monday evening, my dad informed me that my Grandpa (his dad, not my mom's) had suffered another massive stroke and was now confined to a hospital bed. I could see in his eyes that my dad blamed me for that, since Grandpa Pearson had attended the game where I took David out for insulting him. I felt really bad and I visited Grandpa every weekend after that, now that I had seen the damage my bad temper had caused." "It wasn't your fault Andrew," JP tried to assure his big friend. "It was probably just a coincidence that your grandpa had another stroke around the same time that you were punching David." "That's not true JP; he had the stroke at the game right after I attacked David!" Andrew shouted in frustration. "My rage stressed him out so badly that it caused his second stroke and put him in that hospital bed!" JP just stared at his big friend in sympathy, not having a clue what to say when he realized what an incredible burden of guilt Andrew had been carrying around for almost a year. Andrew sighed as a tear ran down his cheek and he and JP just drove in silence for a few minutes while he tried to compose himself. "What happened next Andrew?" JP asked his huge friend gently. "Coach Everson let me play in the Semi-Final and then the Provincial Championship Game," Andrew replied. "Unfortunately, the O-Line had learned some new plays under the back-up Center that I wasn't familiar with and we lost the Provincial Championship Game in the last second due to a missed field goal because David deflected it. I managed to control my temper about that but I broke down in my grandpa's hospital room as I told him a day later. He couldn't say a word, but he did reach over with his one good arm to grab my hand. I promised him that I would win the next Provincial Championship for him and he smiled. Then he fell asleep and I went home. We got the news the next morning that he had passed away during the night." "So you were the last person to see him and he went to heaven happy," JP guessed. "Yeah man," Andrew said with a gentle smile. "And now you know everything about last season and why I'm not really a cocky jock anymore." JP nodded in understanding. "You're the only one who knows everything I've told you, besides Carrie of course, and I want it to stay that way." JP nodded in understanding, realizing how much Andrew thought of him that he would reveal his innermost secrets. "Do you have anything else to tell me Andrew, or is that it?" JP asked. "That's it JP," Andrew replied, glancing over at his friend with a gentle smile. "I think we're even now, since you told me everything about you and Ryan earlier this evening." JP tried to keep the anger he felt at hearing the name of his big brother from showing on his face, because he remembered how easily Andrew had shut down his attempt to punch him earlier. I'd better be on my best behavior with Andrew; he could crush me with one hand tied behind his back! JP realized in sudden fear. Then he thought of something that made him smile. "Getting excited about the trip to the Ohio State tomorrow JP?" Andrew asked him. "Yeah Andrew," JP replied, not letting his huge friend know that he was actually thinking of how scared Ryan would be when he saw how big Andrew was. "I'm really grateful that you're taking me to see the school I hope to wrestle at in my college years." "No problem JP; Mark did it for me, so I'm returning the favour in a deflected manner," Andrew informed him. When JP looked at him with confusion, Andrew explained that his first protégé Mark Stevenson had invited Andrew along on his Official Recruiting Visits during the previous football season. "So in a way, Ohio State is already aware of me, because I went there with Mark on his Official Recruiting Visit almost one year ago," Andrew explained to JP. "Did you mentor him just so you could get early exposure to the NCAA?" JP teased him. Andrew glared over at him in mock fury, but a slight grin betrayed his true feelings. "Just joking Big Guy." "Hey, I told you before, you call me 'Huge Guy' JP!" Andrew roared, unable to keep a cocky grin from appearing on his face. JP laughed and the two of them continued joking around until they got back to JP's house. Once they got to JP's house, they parked in the driveway and Andrew turned to JP. "Thanks a lot for listening to everything I told you about last season without judgement JP," Andrew said gratefully. "You're a great friend." "Thanks Andrew; you are too," JP said, as his parents came out of the house. As he and Andrew got out of Andrew's truck, he said, "Coach Graves got in touch with all the wrestling coaches at each school we're going to, so I'll be having my own early Unofficial Recruiting Visits while you have yours." "Good job man; taking a page out of my book I see," Andrew said with a smug grin. He turned to his friends, who had come out of the house after JP's parents and asked them, "Did you guys have lots of fun with Matt and JP's parents while we were gone?" "Yeah man," Mike replied. "JP's parents were bragging about him while he was gone, showing us his wrestling photos, newspaper articles, trophies and his District Finalist Medal from last season." "I hope we can see a State Championship Medal from you next season JP," Mr. Maloney said with a frown. "You will Dad," JP assured him, trying to make his determination show on his face. "But in the meantime, I will have to show off my District Finalist Medal to the Ohio State Wrestling Coaches tomorrow." "Yeah, when I called Coach Graves and told him which schools Andrew was taking you to, he said that he would get in touch with the wrestling coaches at those schools," Mr. Maloney said proudly. "Yeah he showed me all the emails from them, in which they expressed their hope that I would talk to them while I'm on campus this week," JP said with a cocky smirk. "So I told Coach to say 'Yes, he'll be glad to meet you there' and he added my cell phone number to the email replies. Then the coaches can text me with the details." "And all this wouldn't have happened if Andrew hadn't offered to take you with him on his recruiting visits," Mrs. Maloney said, reaching up to put a hand on Andrew's massive shoulder. Andrew looked very embarrassed as JP's parents ushered Andrew inside to talk to him some more. "Where's your mom Matt?" JP asked, finally noticing that she was missing from the group. "She already went home, after leaving a packed suitcase here for me," Matt replied. "What did you and Andrew do at the high school?" JP ushered him into the house so that they could talk, leaving Mike and Carrie standing outside on the front walk. "Do you feel that we've been forgotten by Andrew over the last couple of days?" Mike asked Carrie. "No more than the past three years when Andrew spent a lot of time mentoring his current teammates," Carrie reminded him. "He didn't have to mentor you of course; your big brother Matt did a lot of that, as well as training Andrew for football before high school." "Yeah, Matt's mentoring of me and Andrew got us ready for high school football so that we played on the Varsity Team even during our Freshman Year," Mike remembered. "Of course, Coach Everson had Andrew be the back-up to Carl, the Centre, that year. Then Carl left for Miami and Andrew took over at Centre in Grade Ten." "Good thing too, because the college recruiting started just last year: Andrew's second season as Centre," Carrie reminded him. Mike grinned and nodded, and Carrie added, "I'm a little surprised that no college coaches have recruited me for Girl's Hockey yet." "Ask to meet the Girl's Hockey coaches at each school we visit and you'll find lots of recruiters visiting you this fall," Mike predicted. Carrie grinned at Mike: pleased that for all his big muscles, he hadn't lost any of the intelligence that had let him tutor Andrew and Phil in exchange for weight training years ago. Carrie and Mike chatted outside for a few more minutes and then went into the Maloney house, where they found almost everyone talking in the living room. As Carrie looked around, she noticed that Andrew and JP were not there. "Where are Andrew and JP?" she asked Mr. Maloney. "JP took Andrew up to his room to show off all his wrestling newspaper stories and trophies," Paul replied proudly. Carrie nodded in understanding: pleased that Andrew had found another protégé after not having one the previous year. Up in his bedroom, JP was proudly showing Andrew all the newspaper clippings and trophies from his high school wrestling career. "This is very impressive JP; you have really achieved great athletic success in only two years," Andrew congratulated him. "And you're a District Finalist as well." "Probably nothing compared to what you've achieved Andrew; you actually won the District Title." "Yeah, but this coming wrestling season, you'll win the State Title JP," Andrew predicted with an encouraging smile. JP smiled as Andrew had once again made him feel better. "What did you want to do now Andrew?" "Help you pack for the college road trip that starts next week, but perhaps I should see Ryan's room first." "What for Andrew?" JP asked with an angry look on his face. "I want an objective view of the kind of guy he is," Andrew replied. "A look in his room is the best glance I will get at his character since he probably decorated it himself." "Fine, let's get it over with so that we can plan our trip," JP agreed reluctantly. He led Andrew to Ryan's room and opened the door, revealing all the posters of scantily-clad women all over the walls. "Well, that certainly reveals Ryan's true character with one look," Andrew realized. "On my walls at home, I have football players banging heads on the field." "So now you see how different you and Ryan are, which explains why I think of you as my big brother instead of him," JP explained, closing Ryan's door again. Andrew nodded and followed JP back to his room to help him pack for the road trip. About an hour later, Andrew and his two friends said goodbye to JP and his family and headed back to their hotel. Once there, Andrew told Carrie that he wanted to talk to JP's brother on Skype. "Okay Andrew, I'll just go have a shower before bed," Carrie said. "Have fun talking to your new friend." Andrew had told her all about his talk with Ryan earlier that evening. "I will Carrie, and I'm going to wear my ODCVI football t-shirt so that he can see just how big and strong I am," Andrew said with a smirk. "Fine, have fun playing 'Who's the Alpha' with Ryan," Carrie laughed. "See you later Big Man," "That's 'Huge Man' to you 'Little Girl'," Andrew teased her with a mock glare. Carrie laughed and headed into the bathroom to have her shower. Andrew pulled out his Motorola Razor and texted Ryan. Then he activated Skype and waited. ================================================================================================================================================= Meanwhile, at a club in Harrisonburg, Virginia, Ryan's cell phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket with a frown. "Sorry babe, I've been expecting this text," he apologized to the hot girl he was in the middle of kissing. He read the text and grinned when he realized that Andrew was ready to start their Skype Chat. "I'm going to talk to my new friend, and he'll show me how to get even bigger and stronger for you next time," he promised her emptily. Ryan stepped back and quickly found Luke so that he could tell him where he was going. Then he headed out of the club, after promising to pick Luke up later, and drove back to their hotel to talk to Andrew. Perfect, Ryan thought to himself as he drove. Andrew will teach me how to become really big and strong so that I can give the girls more pleasure than they've ever dreamed of! And I'll be big enough to smash that dweeb brother of mine into pieces, as well as all opposing players in the games this season! Ryan was still grinning about his foolproof strategy to get Andrew's help when he pulled into the hotel parking lot. He stepped out of his car, put on his best arrogant jock face, and sauntered into the lobby, grinning like a cat at all the pretty girls he passed by. But this time, he didn't talk to any of them, he was too eager to see his new friend Andrew face-to-face. Once he got up to his hotel room, he went inside, opened up his laptop and activated Skype. As the image on the screen resolved into focus, Ryan's jaw dropped as he saw what was on the screen. ================================================================================================================================================ Andrew smirked as he saw the look of shock on the face of the black-haired, green-eyed jock on his laptop screen. "Ryan Maloney?" Andrew asked, just to make sure he was talking to the right person. The big guy on the screen nodded silently; still too shocked to speak. "I'm JP's new friend Andrew Pearson." He waited for almost a minute before Ryan got up his nerve to finally say something. "How are you man?" "Oh just fine; I had lots of fun on the Central High football field showing off my football skills for Coach Palmer," Andrew said with a cocky smirk. Part of him realized he probably shouldn't act so cocky, but then he realized that he had finally found someone who would approve of him acting like an arrogant jock. "I threw a pass that went the entire length of the field and knocked JP off his feet when he tried to catch it!" Ryan's look of shock intensified and then a fleeting look of concern appeared on his face. It was quickly erased by an arrogant smirk, however. "Did that little dweeb run home and cry to Mommy about it?" he sneered. "Be careful Ryan; that's my new protégé you're talking about," Andrew warned him, his protective instincts flaring up. "And he told me how he was once yours." "Yeah he was," Ryan said, remembering his last workout with JP less than fondly. "Sorry about that Andrew; my brother and I just don't get along anymore." "Did you want to talk about it Ryan?" Andrew asked. "It won't go any further than the two of us, since my girlfriend isn't in here with me." "Okay Andrew, and then we can talk about more exciting things: like your upcoming recruiting visit to Virginia Tech," Ryan agreed. "And I will email you the video that Coach Palmer emailed me of my exploits on the Central High School football field," Andrew offered. "Then you can forward it to your football coach at Tech." "Good thinking Andrew," Ryan agreed. He began telling Andrew about how his little brother JP had followed him around everywhere all his life and then started bugging him about working out when he got to high school. So Ryan began teaching him how to work out, but he never imagined JP would take to it so well and get close to surpassing him. So Ryan gradually removed himself from his brother's workouts, especially after the events of three months before, and their relationship was practically non-existent since then. "That sounds rough man," Andrew said sympathetically, realizing that JP felt the same way. "I went through something similar with one of my good friends about seven years ago." "Tell me about it Andrew; I can listen while I watch the video you sent me," Ryan said, opening up the email attachment. So Andrew told Ryan all about his failed friendship with Steve, basically repeating word-for-word the same things he had told JP the night before. Like JP before him, Ryan was amazed at how similar his experiences were to Andrew's. "So what do you think Ryan?" Andrew asked, once he had finished telling Ryan everything. "That's an amazing story Andrew, and I can see that we have a lot more in common than just being great football players," Ryan replied sincerely. All thoughts of acting like an arrogant jock in front of Andrew were gone, and he felt that he could finally be himself with his new friend, which was a great relief for him. "Your video is amazing as well, and my coach at Tech will be really excited to see it." "More excited than you are Ryan?" Andrew teased him, trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah man," Ryan replied with a big grin. "But I'm excited to meet you in person as well, and I'll talk to Coach and get an Unofficial Recruiting Visit set up for you at Tech later this summer." "Thanks man," Andrew said gratefully, sensing that their conversation was wrapping up. "Well, I look forward to it, but right now, I'm going to have a shower and go to bed. Do you want me to say hi to JP for you when I see him again tomorrow morning?" "No Andrew, I will when I see him again," Ryan replied seriously. "And do me a favour." "What's that Ryan?" Andrew asked him. "Don't talk about my brother anymore with me unless I ask you about him," Ryan said. "No problem Ryan," Andrew agreed. "Text me later if you want to have another Skype chat." "I will man; just email me your travel plans so I know where you'll be tomorrow night," Ryan said. "Sure thing man; talk to you later," Andrew said, preparing to sign off. "See you Andrew," Ryan said, just before he ended the conversation. Andrew sat back in his desk chair and stared at the blank screen for a moment: thinking hard. Hopefully one day I'll be there when Ryan and JP have fixed their relationship and then I won't have to choose which one to be friends with, he thought to himself. Then he heard Carrie calling him from the bathroom. "Andrew, I'm ready to have another shower: this time with you!" Andrew grinned, stood up, and headed into the bathroom, looking forward to having lots of fun with his girlfriend before they went to bed. * FINALLY FINISHED * COMING SOON: - The Road Trip to Ohio State - The Ohio State Recruiting Visit itself - JP gets a head start on his own college recruiting process thanks to Andrew My website page for this chapter: http://seanspictures.webs.com has a picture from Google of what I imagine Ryan would look like. Just click on the link for Chapter 5 and go halfway down to see it.
  3. Meine erste Muscle-Growth Geschichte. Leider komplett in Deutsch, da mein Schreib-Englisch echt schlecht ist. Ich hoffe dennoch, dass sie gefällt! ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Mein Leben als Muskel-Monster 1. Tag der Ferien Es war der letzte Schultag vor den Sommerferien als ich, mal wieder, heulend nach Hause kam. Eigentlich dachte ich, in der Oberstufe würde alles anders werden, aber die 11. und 12. Klasse war noch immer der Horror. Mobbing und üble Späße der sogenannten „Klassenkameraden“ waren an der Tagesordnung. Warum? Das wusste ich selbst nicht. Weder war ich „der dicke Nerd“, noch die „Bohnenstange“ oder sonst was. Ich war einfach nur David. Mit 1,90m vielleicht eigentlich ganz groß und mit knapp 78kg vielleicht etwas pummelig, aber nicht zwingend das typische Feindbild der coolen Kids. Meine Eltern waren noch auf der Arbeit und ich ging also in mein Zimmer, machte den Rechner an und versuchte die letzten Stunden einfach zu vergessen. Jan und Sven, die Anführer der Mobber hatten.... ach... eigentlich auch egal. Sie hatten jeden Tag irgendwas gemacht. Ich surfte also bei Tumblr, Deviantart und Co und schaute mir die Bilder von den muskulösen Männern an. Ja, natürlich. Ich war schwul. Vielleicht reichte das den beiden Idioten auch schon aus um mir das Leben zur Hölle zu machen. Wenn ich so Musklen hätte. 2m groß wäre und ein mega Ding in der Hose.... dann würden die sich aber umschauen. Genau als ich dies dachte poppte eine Werbung auf. War ja klar, dachte ich. Anhand meines Surf-Verhaltens waren ja immer zur passenden Zeit die richtigen Ads da. „Du willst Muskeln? Eine haarige Brust? Einen großen Schwanz? Dann bist du hier richtig? Nur zwei Klicks entfernt!“ Das alles und natürlich noch viel, viel mehr, verprach mir die blau-leuchtende Reklame. Es war wohl eine Mischung aus Verzweiflung und der aufkeimenden Idee ein Musklen-Monster zu werden, das mich die Anzeige anklicken ließ. Es folgten diverse Bilder von echt hübschen, großen und gut bestückten Männern bevor ich einen Fragebogen ausfüllen sollte. Wie groß bist du? Wie groß willst du werden? Gewünschtes Gewicht? Fettanteil? Penis Länge? Wunschlänge? ... und noch viel mehr. Ich füllte alles artig aus (oder besser gesagt, ziemlich geil und übertrieb ein bisschen) und kam an die Stelle, wo ich eine Telefonnummer oder Mail Adresse eingeben musste. Kurz überlegte ich und die Geilheit stach die Vernunft aus. Ich gab alles an. Es folgte sogleich eine Whatsapp: „Vielen Dank für Ihre Eingaben. Ihr Auftrag wird in Kürze bearbeitet.“ Oho... eventuell hatte ich jetzt doch Probleme. Wenn ich jetzt was bestellt hatte... meine Eltern... Oh. Mein. Gott.Panik machte sich breit, als ich aber drohte durchzudrehen kam eine weitere Whatsapp: „Lieber David. Wir haben dein Anliegen geprüft und können dir die Freigabe erteilen. Die Anpassungen werden wir vornehmen und in einem Zeitraum von 4-6 Wochen zur Verfügung stellen. Die Teilnahme an diesem Services ist aus bekannten Gründen für dich 100% kostenfrei. Wir würden uns freuen, wenn du uns weiterempfiehlst.“ Verwirrung machte sich breit. Sollte das ganze doch funktionieren? Ernsthaft? Es wirkte zu seriös. Oder machte sich da jemand einen Spaß draus, Leute zu verarschen? Ich war unsicher, aber auch ein bisschen geil und so beendete ich den Nachmittag mit einer ausführlichen Jack-Off-Session. Immer mit dem Bild von mir als Heavy-Weight-Bodybuilder vor Augen. Am nächsten Morgen war schon wieder alles vergessen und auch die erste Woche der Ferien war herrlich unspektakulär. Andere Kids verabredeten sich, ich spielte „League of Legends“ und „Overwatch“ mit Internet-Freunden. Denen war es egal, auf wen ich scharf war, solange ich gut war. Die 2. Woche Es war in der zweiten Woche, als ich nach dem Duschen mich mal wieder auf die Waage stellte und diese auf 83kg sprang. Ok... vielleicht hatte ich beim Spielen ein wenig viel Chips gefuttert. Ein genauerer Blick in den Spiegel zeigte mir aber, dass mein Bauch sogar flacher wirkte. War meine Brust definierter? Und... waren da Brusthaare zu sehen? Sogleich meldete ich die Erinnerung an die Anzeige und einen Augenblick später stand ich mit einem Latte im Bad. Ich fing an dümmlich zu grinsen in freudiger Erwartung, was da alles kam. Dieses verflog aber recht schnell, als ich mir nur ein paar der fiktiven Werte in den Kopf rief. Oh fuck. Die 4. Woche Ich machte langsam die Augen auf und stöhne leicht. Es war unerträglich heiß die Nacht gewesen und ich hatte – zum ersten Mal in meinem Leben – komplett nackt geschlafen. Aber langsam konnte ich mir das auch leisten. Ich wuchtete mich aus dem Bett hoch und wankte schlaftrunken Richtung Bad. Dort angekommen stieg ich zuerst auf die Waage. 103kg. Die Zahl war etwas schwer zu erkennen, da meine Penis... (ich musste mich noch des Wortes Schwanz ein wenig erwehren) mit seinen nun harten 18cm einen Teil der Zahlen verdeckte. Es folgte ein Blick in den Spiegel. Ich sah aus, als ob ich nichts anderes machen würde als Gewichte zu stemmen. Ich hatte langsam schon ein gut sichtbares SixPack, definierte Brust, großen Biceps, schmale Taille und wuchtige Beine. Als Bonus oben drauf: Haarige Brust, 3-Tage-Bart und markantes Kinn. Ich würde Jan und Sven fertig machen und dann in Grund und Boden ficken. Ich vermutete, dass das erhöhte Testosteron mich so denken lies.... Ich hoffte es zumindest. Meinen Eltern schien die Veränderung nicht aufzufallen. Auch nicht, als ich sie innerhalb kürzester Zeit schon wieder um Geld für neue Klamotten bat. Ich bekam 200 € und durfte Shoppen gehen. Langsam verabschiedete ich mich auch von Shirt von C&A und ging zu lässigen Tanktops und Sportbekleidung über. Einfach nur geil. Die letzte Ferienwoche Langsam kamen mir Zweifel. So geil dieser Körper auch war, so sehr fing er auch an mir Probleme zu bereiten. Mein Gewicht lag bei 146kg. Meine Abs konnte ich nur noch im Spiegel anschauen, da meine Brust zu wuchtig war. Mein Hintern war gigantisch und sorgte dafür, dass in jeder Unterhose mein Schwanz so aussah, als ob ich einen Fußball schmuggeln wollte. Ok... bei schlaffen 25cm ist das auch gar nicht so weit hergeholt. Aber Kleidung wurde langsam echt ein Problem. Tanktops waren ganz ok, aber für die Schule? Und meine Trainings-Hotpants? Die überließen nichts der Fantasie. Auch teilte mir mein Vater in einem ersten Gespräch mit, dass meine Sportsucht meinen Eltern Sorge bereitet. Er meinte, er kenne nicht viele 17-jährige mit meinen Ausmaßen. Weiterhin müssten sie schauen, da ich wohl einen mehr als gesunden Appetit an den Tag lege würde. Die Lebenshaltungskosten seien enorm gestiegen. Ich hatte übertriebe, aber der Gedanke daran Jan und Sven eins auszuwischen war es mir wert. Ich sagte meinem Vater, dass ich langsam machen würde im Studio und mir einen Nebenjob suchen würde. Vielleicht als Porno-Darsteller. Das, war zum Glück nur gedacht. Der erste Schultag Oberstufe. 13. Klasse. Ich war eine Stunde vor dem Wecker bereits wach und machte mich fertig. Ich hatte mein Outfit wohl überlegt und musste nun an die Details gehen. Mein finales Gewicht lag bei 151kg bei 8% Körperfett. Ich hatte angefangen seit Woche 4 mir einen Bart wachsen zu lassen und hatte nun einen dichten Vollbart, den ich nochmal in Form brachte. Das war durch meinen gigantischen Biceps gar nicht so einfach. Meine Hose war eine Skinny-Jeans die wie eine zweite Haut an meinen Beinen anlag und man die Outline von meinem Schwanz gut sehen konnte. Darüber kam ein Long-Tee mit weitem Ausschnitt. Ich verdeckte also die Kontur von meinem Gemächt (ein bisschen) und man konnte die trainierte, haarige Brust sehen. Ich zog mir noch meine Schuhe an, was bei meiner Größer und Umfang auch ein bisschen schwerer war , und ging runter zum Frühstück. Ein letzter Blick in den großen Spiegel im Flur. Ich sah aus wie ein 17-jähigers Testosteron-Monster, das jede freie Minute im Fitnessstudio verbrachte und einen mehr als gesegneten Genpool hat. Zeit Sven und Jan hallo zu sagen und sich auf ein tolles, letztes Schuljahr zu freuen.
  4. neuheimeer

    A New Voyage

    Ok!!! The time has come, and for many forumers, this is my first story. Its so complex, that I decided to buld that in phases. So, let's start with that: A NEW VOYAGE Introduction Andreas Baumgartner is a 19 yo student in his gymnasium, ending his basic general studies (and preparing for uni). He was some kind of a nerd who was a love for science and a secret desire for muscles, a thing that no one knew in his home. His notes and grades were the best in the course (ok, except PE that was aceptable, pretty average but no so good as his classmates) as a result of a hard-work ethic teached in his family. Sadly his dad was a drunk-aggressive guy that betrays his own mom and brothers, having Little money as a result of this, living with permanent conflicts, until the last day of high school. During nights he was dreaming with comming out with superheroes helping him to escape from this hell from his home. In recent times was suffering with depression, although he managed to mantain his grades, having the best grade, and receiving his high school certificate in flying colors. But in this last day of high school, the time bomb from his family exploded in all the intensity he didn´t even knew; in this moment his dad screamed out to him: ‘Get out of the house, YOU FUCKING BURDEN-DOUCHEBAG!’ and attacked him with punchs and knocks, so strong that hit him on the floor, leaving it unconsciously of the facts occuring at the hall of the high school and causing an pathetic mayhem that need to evacuate him to the Heidelberger Universitätsklinikum. Shortly after, one of the teachers called to the police commenting the circunstances occurring at that moment. Inside the hospital, the doctors did the clinical exams to check and diagnose him about his situation, because he also suffered from migraines needing to ingest pills in the nights in order to sleep in a correct way to respond his studies and his family (giving him a lot of pressure to cope). In his dreams, he was seeing a lot of muscle men giving him help and guiding to a new stage, living with them in a special palace in the middle of the alps with a secret bunker where the men live inside, having a huge gym, remembering the mythical Golden Gym in California or the Cammel crew Gym in Kuwait, a library that contains millions of books, magazines and Works realized by these men and from the outside world; a special room that contains laboratories making scientific studies in many areas (including sport and muscle, obviously), bedrooms where the men sleep, and many features. The palace was located near to river Rot in Switzerland, above a hill, being built in a late-gothical style, with a tower at its centre, and four Little ones, each one in different directions, surrounded by wáter in artificial channels developed in the late middle age. In one of the sides, there was stairs, that connects the castle with the outside square in front of the artificial cannel barrier, being used ocassionally on weekends. At the other side, there was the barracks, being used as wineries, libraries and laboratories, only accesible by a secret door to subterranean floors. In one of the dreams, inside of the room in the hospital, he saw one of the men looking at him with concerns about his health and his lifepath, quenstioning him what are he doing there, and he didn´t know what to answer. He felt that the doctors planned to move him to the social protection unit because of his personal and family record considering that he is in risk state, according to reports sending there about that. But he didn’t understand what was really happening until he wake up two days after the incident that he Heard from one of his Friends what was really happening, but the pathway that he must take to his new life is long and full of difficulties to cope and handle with positive results…… and big surprises. But before, we must take a retrospective Chapter 1 - A secret in the house ‘Damm it, I have problems with Harz-III’ screamed Günther, Andreas’s dad when looked the tax acquittance he recived from the regional tax direction. His social payment to cope with the general Budget have been cut off and the family hadn’t a good year. That was 2001, a complicated year for many German households. Even for the Baumgartners, who have been a pretty typical Baden-Würtembergische low middle-class family with social and internal problems this was a very difficult moment to live for. At those days, arguments were a common thing every morning, with both parents screaming against each other in front of their children. Andreas was the second of three sons, all men, but with dificulties in every day life, as many other teens, being an average teen with 1,56 m measuring height, short light-browny hair, gray eyes, greek classical nose and a very skinny body with a relative-long torso and long legs and arms, specially for a 13-year-old boy. He was a nerdy boy who liked of comics, specially Superman, that considered his model and inspiration, being a frequent reader of this while doing his schoolwork at the library. His days was passing literally beetwen the Gymnasium, the library and home, when continue problems are waiting inside the door. At his academic activities he was one of the best students out there, with a (very posible) brilliant future if it wasn’t for his family, that became his main obstacle beetwen him and his future profesional career. But, speaking abhout having Friends, there was another story, because he didn´t have much of this. His best friend was also a good student who spares time with. At free times, when we has Reading comics, he was fantasising about muscle men who were saving his life from the nightmare that became his own home and his studies. But at the same time, he was starting to feel atractions to the sports magazines because of the hunks posted at the front covers. At the same time, he started to work on weekends at a restaurant for tourists wit the objective of obtaining some money for him, because of the –then– current situation, giving him a posibility to continue with his studies without major financial conflicts. After Günther recived the dead-line notice from the tax authority, he decided to talk to his family about the situation. Günther wasn’t a good speaker either, specially when he had been in financial troubles since 2 years before when he was sacked from his position as a designer from an important electronics company. After that, he was incorpored into Media Markt, working as a salesman from the Mannheim store, but earning less money than in his last position, forcing to the whole family into a new dinamic but with continue problems. The conversation started with the explanations about the situation and the notices that had been reciving in the last months before, a situation that put him in an uncomfortable position. In this time, he was lying to his family about what was really happening with him, with the intention of mantaining a normal family life. His wife, Maria, was suspecting about his doubble life for the last 5 years before that moment. The tension was really captable at first sight, with him feeling nerviously at one side, and his wife and children with the other, with her sreaming out at him: ‘You are a big fail and the biggest mistke of my life, you were lying to me hiding the notices’. He need to explain the whole truth to his family. He couldn’t hide the problem for so much time without a break-up and long arguments, the truth was hitting his own door feeling overwhelmed to him, who couldn’t sleep in days. He returned to her an strange explanation of what he was doing with the money, something that didn’t conviced to the family, and the nighmare have just begun. He said that he invested the money in a special fund for crisis moments, and that they were living with the profits he was obtaining with ‘this’. ‘And if I didn’t do that we just couldn´t live in a well level’, he said in a laconic tone. That was enough for his wife that said: ‘Wha were you doing with our money Günther?, Do you have really any idea of what are you doing and the risks?’ ‘First, you lost the job, I knew that last week, and now you came with that theatrical version that you wasted the money we earned with years of hard work, specially for me that I sacrified all that I liked just for you?’ ‘Honey, I’m feeling very sorry for our realtionship and for our family, so just please forgive me!’ He said in response, crying. ‘But you are lying the whole time, that I don’t even know who reallyy you are, our family needs a real change for good’, she said, also crying but being angry from what she Heard. The children were standing quiet, no one tried to talk. The parents said to them: ‘Go out to the garden while we talk’. The rest of the fight is history, the coupple decided to take a few days in the summer to think about their future, while their children come to the summer camp. It wasn’t an esay one, after many discussions, arguments and fights beetwen tham, that have been affecting to all, even for Maria, a sales manager in a regional car store. Maria, who were 3 years minor from his husband, married with high expectations, that couldn’t be reached. She was really frustated about her marriage life and her job itself, dreaming of becoming a schlager-singer, because of her soft-velvet voice, that become more rough as she was having Günther’s sons and frequent smashes with him. Sometimes, she was chatting at him with his cousin, Markus, a truck-driver that resembles of Franz Meersdonk from Auf Achse. One of the three sons, Ingo, the major, was really the son of this relationship. At the same time, Günther was dating out with his workmate, Gisela Reichmann-Bauer, becoming even more than just Friends, and he didn’t know that his wife was also cheating him. Gisela was a blond woman with beautiful emmerald-green eyes and a perky skin that was looking for a new space in the city, because she was a newcomer from Heilbronn. He offered her a bedroom into his house, but he didn’t even know also that his wife spied his handy and discovered the romance. That was the main reason for the discussion, but there are more surprises. Gunther was also involved in a money-laundering scheme that permited him and his family live with a good standard, providing him with some extra money for the months to come.In the last days, he was thinking of get out of that mafia, but the financial pressure forced to took another decision instead. At those days, the relationship with Gisela was getting too strong to continue without any anger from his wife. At the same time, Gisela was expecting to start a new life with her, so she proposed to him to be a new marriage, but he wasn’t able to say ‘Yes’. He had to take a decision, right now, at the hurricane: Was it posible to break-up his marriage to go with her? Or, does he really need to recover his marriage, even with the posibility to continue being unhappy for the next years? This was the beginning of a new crossroad for him. In this case, he took a special one, instead: Going out of the house, and search a motel to stay there for a coupple days before returning home.
  5. Hey y’all so I like a lot of the stories on this forum and I decided to try writing one myself keep in mind all characters are above or at least 18 years of age and there won’t be much of anything involving growth in this chapter, Thank you. PS: (There will also probably be a lot of grammar errors also”) Part 1: The cold campus air blew into my dorm, long before the alarm clock even went off. But I wasn’t going to attempt to make contact with the with the winter air before I absolutely had to. About 15 minutes after my alarm originally went off, “Get up Josh” I said to myself, then I got up to do my morning routine (starting with a blistering hot shower of course). I always loved my Saturday morning routines in the dormitory public restroom, I could freely hum or sing and not have anyone stare at me. You see I go to a small college in Oregon for musical theater, it wasn’t terrible; but it also wasn’t the best. Just like my musical theater abilities I guess... As I walked into the bathrooms I noticed the usual graffiti, but to be honest it was better than smelling disgusting vape smoke while I’m trying to brush my teeth like usual. I set my stuff down outside the shower in a neat pile, and got in the small cabinet of water (if you will), “You should probably take your clothes off before you start the water” I said appreciating the acoustics of the room. So I did what I have always dreaded, looking at my body... You see my body is on the line of painfully average and wow you’re skinny, I am 5,7 and about 136 pounds of flesh,bones, and baby fat with short light brown hair to match... It’s not that I hated my body it’s just I wished it was bigger. So finally after about 25 minutes of monologuing in my head (who is hearing this anyway?) I started the water and I sang out all of my broadway jams. About half way through my conditioning and belting I heard a faint cough. Although I didn’t want them to see me naked, I was painfully curious. And I was technically done so I let my curiosity get the best of me I looked all around the bathroom “phew” I sighed for relief. And I got dressed and headed for the sinks, “Nice job” said an energetic voice. I turned around to see a guy about my age with short dark hair about 6,0... and a great face with a cross country like build (oh yeah did I mention I’m very homosexual) leaning against the shower that was right next to mine with a huge smile on his face. I was so startled I think my heart stopped for a moment but immediately started back up again once we made eye contact, “Hiiiigdjmhfvnjfdg JOSH” I stuttered. He laughed not out of mockery but out of excitement, “sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I heard your voice from right outside the room.” He said looking slightly concerned, “I’ve seen you around the dormitory before... you always seem like you’re in your own little world I’m Micheal by the way” he blurted out awkwardly. “Josh” I said slower this time heckin confused on why this guy is talking to me. You see it’s almost the end of the first semester and I still haven’t made a single friend... just a boat load of acquaintances. “Well this was an awkward meeting but hey we met am I right?” “Sure” I awkwardly nodded. “Here” he said, reaching for my arm, “here’s my number, so hopefully we can re meet and pretend this never sorta happened...” he said writing his number on my arm in sharpie. Then he waved goodbye and I don’t remember if I waved that was kinda a blur. To be continued...
  6. Twenty-seven Tomas awoke from his deep and peaceful sleep. He stretched his 40 pound lighter body and mentally ordered his pet to come to his room. He then focused his attention on Connor but only found a blank, resting mind. “He must be sleeping after his fight with Alex”, he said to himself and got up from the bed. He put on his clothes and turned around as the door opened. Anton barged into the room and quizzically stared down at his master. “Are you smaller?”, he asked. “I gave 40 pounds of muscle to Connor to fight Alex”, Tomas replied in a bored tone. “Oh man. Now his bigger than me. Why didn’t you give me those extra muscles? I would have dominated everyone”, Anton said like a toddler being denied a new toy. “SILENCE!”, Tomas bellowed and snapped his fingers. Instantly, Anton’s 580 pound body left the floor and floated in the air. “You’re in no position to question my actions, my pet. You, like everyone else, are at my mercy. I can easily drain your muscles away and cast you in the darkest depths of Hell!”, Tomas said coldly, “Would you like to end like those runts Sean and Keith? Weak, skeleton-like boys without any strength?”. Tomas raised his left hand and lightning shot from his fingertips, hitting the ceiling inches away from Anton’s face. “No. No, I’m sorry”, Anton answered quickly. “I thought so”, Tomas said, “you have a special place in the upcoming ritual, my pet. Since you’re the first beast I’ve created, you’re central in the events at hand. Connor’s only job is to make sure he fulfills his destiny. Now, let’s get to the library and make things ready for the ritual”. Anton crashed down as Tomas ended his spell. He quickly got up and followed his master stepping through the mirror into the library. Aaron had given his keys to Alex and watched as the football player knocked Connor out cold and carried him off to his van. He walked through the now deserted wrestle hall and entered the locker room. He opened his locker but looked up as a big shadow fell over him. Before he could react two strong hands spun him around, grabbed hold of his singlet and lifted him up as his back was slammed against the lockers. Kurt stared the 110 pound lighter wrestler in the eye as he effortlessly held him up. “Where’s Connor,”, he snarled. Aaron squirmed in the bigger man’s grasp, his feet dangling in the air. “Where’s Connor, worm?”, Kurt repeated angrily and smacked the wrestler’s back hard against the metal lockers. “Augh”, Aaron grunted as his back dented the cold metal lockers, “He’s out. Please don’t hurt me”. Kurt groaned in anger; he had looked forward to worshipping Connor’s huge body. His cock hardened at the thought. Might as well have some fun, he thought and dropped the wrestler. “Suck me off”, he said as he ripped off his speedos. Aaron slumped to his knees and stared up at the thickly muscled swimmer looming over him. He knew he was no match for the way bigger athlete and moved in on the hard 8 incher smacking against the steroid bloated eight-pack in front of him. “For every round your cock shall blast, 10 pounds of muscle to me shall be past”, he mumbled softly. These words had just popped up in his mind and it seemed natural to speak them out loud. Kurt looked down and saw the wrestler open his mouth. He rammed his fully engorged 8 incher in it as the other athlete said something. Aaron gagged as the roided up swimmer’s cock invaded his mouth while he spoke the hellish formula. His tongue rubbed along the hard shaft as the last word escaped his mouth. “Yeaughn”, Kurt moaned as his cock exploded the second it made contact with the wrestler’s tongue. He didn’t even have time to blink as the intense pleasure of the most powerful orgasm he’d ever had rolled over his 280 pound body. Aaron eagerly sucked the salty cum away, gulping down every drop of it. Warmth was already spreading through his body and he grabbed hold of the swimmer’s thick quads for support. Kurt closed his eyes and let the feelings overwhelm him completely. His left hand grabbed the back of the wrestler’s head and he began shoving his cock back and forth in the other athlete’s mouth. Aaron answered Kurt’s enthusiasm by sucking his 8 incher even harder. He felt his singlet getting tighter and tighter as his muscles began feeding on the swimmer’s size. His delts bulged with new mass, doubling in size as they swelled outward. He looked at his growing biceps atop his thickening arms that held onto the swimmer’s deflating quads. “Yeaughn”, Kurt moaned once more, in a slightly higher voice. The swimmer was totally lost in pleasure as the wrestler gave him the blowjob of a lifetime. He stopped trusting his hips as his quads burned like they did after a long, hard workout. The mild burning sensation mixed with the electric bliss coursing through his shrinking frame. Aaron’s muscles kept beefing up on his growing frame. He felt his calves swelling with hard meat against his hardening hamstrings. His naturally strong quads thickened and began ripping his singlet. His six-pack bulged outward against the overstretched fabric, making tears appear all over it as they swelled to the size of coke cans. His muscular pecs began protruding more and more from his chest, pushing his hard nipples through the now paper-thin fabric of his singlet. His strong hands found more room on the swimmer’s ever shrinking quads. He intensified his sucking on the now 7 incher in his mouth. Incoherent sounds escaped Kurt’s mouth and drool dripped from his lips as various sensations overwhelmed his mind. Pleasure, exhaustion, the mild burning sensation that spread to more and more of his muscles, a tingle of what felt like weakness; it all mixed together into the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. Aaron gazed up at the swimmer and a faint smile formed on his lips: his once steroid bloated abs now looked like a runner’s 4-pack; the formerly protruding pecs no longer blocked his view of the swimmer’s face and kept receding into his chest; the deflating quads felt like weak sponges in his swelling hands, his long fingers were almost touching around the shrinking legs; the cock in his mouth was now well below 5 inches and kept shriveling down as it released more loads down his hungry throat. A burning sensation spread in Kurt’s balls as they began protesting from being drained so much. It quickly turned into a stabbing pain that overcame the pleasure of his ongoing orgasm. A loud snapping sound made him open his eyes and look down. His mouth fell open in disbelief: it looked like the hulk was sucking him off. Aaron’s swelling muscles had won the fight against the elastic singlet. The straps snapped and shot loose as the rising traps grew higher and higher, the inflating pecs kept pushing the singlet further and further away from the wrestler’s chest, his thickening and widening lats pulled the fabric backward and outward. The shattered remains draped around his still growing frame as sweat made them stick against and highlight his huge muscles. Kurt stared at the bulging and swelling mounds of muscle on the wrestler’s widening back. He looked down and gasped as he realized where the wrestler’s new size came from: his once majestic, 290 pound body was now a mere 160 and shrinking. He pulled his 4.5 incher from the hungry mouth. Or tried to. Aaron felt the now 150 pound swimmer pulling back his cock. He hardened his hold on the other athlete’s legs, his fingers easily touching around the meager sticks and digging into the now soft muscle, and lifted him off the floor. His tongue effortlessly overpowered the still hard 4 incher and milked out some more cum. Kurt squirmed with all the might left in his weakened body but the huge wrestler’s grip held him in place. His shrinking balls protested with hard, painful, burning stabs as they were emptied from their last, watery drops. He gasped as he noticed that the wrestler’s arms were twice the size of his own legs. His vision went dark and he sank away in unconsciousness as his once hulking body settled in at 90 pounds. Aaron felt the swimmer go limp in his grip. He licked the last drip from the now pathetic cock in his mouth and tossed the once intimidating swimmer aside. The limp, frail body flew across the locker room and crashed down against the furthest row of lockers, failing to dent them on impact. The now 7 feet, 380 pound Aaron stood up and grinned as his big paws roamed the hot surface of his newly grown, hard muscles on his chest. He flexed the protruding rack of beef, making it bounce under his right hand. His left paw explored his eight-pack, tracing in and out the deep ridges separating the strong abs. Sean, Keith and Logan were getting ready to pick up Matt at the hospital as Logan’s phone rang. “Hello?”, he said. … “I thought we could pick him up tonight, doctor?” … “Okay. Tell him we’ll come visit him first thing in the morning. Bye.” Sean and Keith looked at the fallen quarterback. “The hospital”, Logan said, “They have to do some more tests to see if Matt has recovered completely. It will take a few more days before he can leave the hospital.” “I suggest we still leave campus tonight”, Sean stated, “Once Mike and Paul are back from the gym we can take our stuff and move into a hotel room. We have to avoid making contact with Tomas or his gang of muscle freaks.” “Let’s start packing our bags then”, Keith replied and began emptying the closet. Sean and Logan followed his example and soon enough they were packed and ready to go. Tomas and Anton stepped through the large mirror and entered the library. Anton always wondered how his master was able to create these passages. “Just a small proof of my ever-increasing powers, my pet”, Tomas replied to the unspoken question. A faint noise made them look at the center of the vast reading room. A huge, muscled creature was awaiting them at what looked like an altar. “Connor”, Anton said eagerly, excited to discover his new massive size and marched toward the muscle beast his master had grown past his own huge dimensions. “Guess again”, the creature said and turned around. “Alex!”, Anton spat out angrily. Anton noticed how his own muscles clearly outsized Alex’ ones and charged at him. Tomas just stared at the scene and saw his pet storming at the other beast before he could react. “What did you do to Connor?”, Anton bellowed deeply, his voice echoing against the high walls of the vast reading room. He jumped up in the air and launched himself at his adversary. “You’re about to find out”, Alex replied coolly. He made a fist, pulled back his monstrous, 55 inch right arm and threw a punch with all his force. Anton saw the big fist coming at him but couldn’t dodge it as he was mere inches away from his opponent. A loud, sickening, cracking sound sounded as Alex concrete-hard fist collided with Anton’s nose. The 580 pound behemoth flew backward and crashed down several feet away, blood flowing from his flattened nose, knocked out cold by his 500 pound enemy. “Put him on the altar!” Alex looked away from his battered opponent and faced Tomas. He nodded, grabbed Anton, threw him onto his beastly left shoulder and carried him over to the altar. He tossed the 580 pound beast with his back onto the stone altar and stepped back, awaiting further instructions. “Chain him!” Alex squatted down and put the heavy, metal chains around Anton’s wrists and ankles, securing the 580 pound beast firmly atop the altar. “Rip off his clothes!” Alex stood up, his massive quads bulging in the process, and effortlessly ripped off Anton’s skintight clothes, exposing his huge frame. He stared in admiration at the hard masses of beef that protruded from Anton’s body and at the cock, 15 inches of soft meat, that lay over his big bull-sized balls atop the altar. “Have you taken care of the football team?” Tomas’ question pulled Alex from his awe and he faced his master. “I’ve drained Logan’s muscles to get huge myself. I’ve trashed the others during practice. Matt’s still in the hospital and Mike and Paul know who’s boss”, he said. “Not good enough”, Tomas reacted, “I have to be sure they won’t interfere with the ritual. You’re the champion from Hell mentioned in the ancient manuscript. You’ve taken down several men despite them out sizing you, even when I had beefed up Connor some more…” “It just felt natural to take him on”, Alex interrupted, “ The instant he entered my room I just felt an urge to prove I could take him. I didn’t…” Tomas shut him up with a sign from his hand. “No need to apologize, champion”, Tomas said, “I hadn’t read the entire manuscript until then. I thought that Anton was the champion of Hell ‘cause he had defeated Sean and Keith. I already had my doubts when he said that Connor had beaten him in arm wrestling. The true champion would never lose a physical challenge, not even something silly as a arm wrestling. When Connor mentioned your name, I dove into your mind and saw the incredible amount of aggressiveness waiting to break free. I discovered you had always bullied other kids despite your puny size. So I decided to give you the body to match that aggressiveness.” “But why did you make Connor grow after our first fight?”, Alex asked, “You knew I was the champ”. “I wanted a final test to be sure”, Tomas replied with a grin, “I knew that if you could take down a 100 pound bigger opponent, no one would be able to stop you. Why did Aaron revealed Connor’s weak spot, you think? Some infernal inspiration I put into his mind at that time. You’ve trashed Connor three times: in the locker room, in the shower zone and finally in the wrestle hall. And now, you’ve knocked out my pet with one blow.” The smug grin on Alex’ face got wider and wider as he listened to Tomas. “Now that I’ve decrypted the manuscript completely, everything has become clear to me”, Tomas continued, “Sean and Keith aren’t necessary for the ritual: Anton has absorbed their muscles. He’s the ultimate sacrifice needed to set things in motion at the stroke of midnight.” “And what about Connor?”, Alex asked. “You may keep him, champ”, Tomas answered, “I’ve seen you put him in Aaron’s van and know what you and Aaron are up to. Soon I’ll command the armies of Hell and hordes of infernal creatures will carry out every order I give. Until then, I have one final assignment for you. Matt is in room 302 of the hospital. Go and do what must be done. Aaron will take care off Mike and Paul. Then you guys may go to the south and live your life. But be aware: there might be a day when I call you, champ, and Aaron back in action. Now go!” Alex nodded and exited the library, heading toward the hospital for his final assignment. Aaron ended his self worship. The same voice that had ordered him to reveal Connor’s weakness to Alex during their fight, now ordered him turn around. Aaron turned his head and noticed the sound of running water. He hadn’t noticed it before, being focused on sucking off Kurt and then worshipping his own, beefed up frame. He swaggered over to the shower zone and the sound of two voices mixed in with that of the running water. He entered the actual shower area and discovered two heavily muscled football players under the showers at the furthest wall. Mike and Paul were enjoying a long, hot shower after their grueling workout. “Man, doesn’t it feel great being back in the gym”, Mike said to his buddy. “Yeah”, Paul replied, “the pump’s incredible after a week off. I’ve never been this hard after training since my first workout in high school. Feels like I could explode right here.” Mike glanced aside and saw his 275 pound teammate’s rock hard, 10 inch cock pointing straight at the tilled wall they were facing as he soaped his pumped muscles. “You horny dog”, he said laughingly and gently stroked his own semi-hard cock as he let the hot water rain down on his 263 pound frame. “Alpha dog, you mean”, Paul answered grinningly, “biggest, strongest, most muscular and horniest man on the team.” His untouched 10 incher throbbed as he spoke. “We’re gonna ace those practice tests”, Mike stated and kept stroking his own, further hardening cock A shadow fell over them. A big, strong hand grabbed onto their round shoulders and span them around. Before they could react, the strong hand pressed against their protruding chests and pushed their backs against the tilled wall. Mike and Paul stared at the massive, black man in front of them: he outsized them by at least 100 pounds of rock hard muscle that had ripped his singlet to pieces. They felt like deer caught in a headlight and didn’t budge. “For every round your cocks shall blast, 10 pounds of muscle shall be past” Paul’s already throbbing 10 incher exploded instantly and blasted load after load of cum onto the wrestler’s abdomen. Mike’s cock followed this lead and jolted to complete hardness in his hand. After Paul’s fourth load, it began shooting his own man juice onto the abs in front of him. “YEAGH!” Aaron boomed in triumph, closed his eyes and tilted back his head. He heard the football player’s cum splatter against his eight-pack and felt the heat spreading through his 7 feet, 380 pound body. Paul’s horned up body kept blasting out cum at an incredible rate: for every load Mike’s 8 incher shot, his 10 incher produced three. He and Mike stared at their cum drenching the hard abs in front of them while orgasm raced through them. Aaron’s eight-pack was completely covered by the massive amount of sticky cum the football players kept pumping out. Not a single drop of it slid down onto the floor, though. The cum quickly absorbed into his frame, spreading into his muscles to feed them. The warmth throughout his 380 pound body kept increasing, announcing an even more impressive growth than in the locker room. “Augh”, Aaron grunted as his body began its growth into pure godhood. Mike and Paul gaped at the lengthening wrestler in front of them. Their eyes widened as they felt their bodies being stretched upward: the wrestler’s hands pushed them against the wall and slowly travelled upward, pulling both their 263 and 275 pound bodies along on his way toward the ceiling. The football player’s calves flexed into hard, diamond-shaped mounds as they were forced to stand on their toes to accord to the wrestler’s rising. The whole time their still stubbornly hard cocks kept splattering cum against the abdomen wrapped in ripped remains of the singlet. Aaron felt his lengthening slowing down: his body stopped going upward as it reached 9 feet. The warmth shifted from his bones and made its way into the wrestler’s still unchanged, yet already huge muscles. Pleasure wrote itself all across Aaron’s handsome, square and masculinity-screaming face. “Muugh. Yeah!”, he grunted between his clenched teeth as the next phase of his growth began. Paul and Mike noticed and recognized the look of pure ecstasy on the wrestler’s face. They gulped, their tongues scraping in their dry mouths, as they saw the huge muscles on the towering frame in front of them bulging with new mass. By now their balls were completely dry and the infernal spell was transforming their hard earned muscles into cum that escaped their diminishing frames through their blasting cocks. Paul’s 10 incher maintained its higher frequency but since his balls were way bigger than Mike’s, his muscles began shrinking at about the same time as Mike’s. The football players didn’t notice their own decrease as they were still overcome by the feeling of orgasm coursing through them and the impressive sight before them. “YEAGH!” Aaron’s huge muscles soaked up the warmth like sponges. His calves exploded from the back of his long legs as the diamond-shaped muscle doubled in size; his nicely round ass ballooned outward as his hamstrings swelled with rock-hard mass; his kneecaps looked ridiculously tiny and were totally obscured by the prominent and large teardrop-shape that bulged at the edges of his quads; cuts, striations and veins pushed against the paper-thin skin as the cords of muscle in his quads inflated outwards, thickening his long legs beyond the size of a normal tree. Mike and Paul couldn’t believe what they were seeing. A mixture of weakness and fatigue began dominating the orgasm exploding through them. An increasing burn spread painfully in their flexed calves. Mike broke his gaze from the broadening beast and looked down. He inhaled sharply as he discovered his own diminishing frame: his once huge, 263 pound body was now well beyond 200 pounds and going down even further. The wrestler’s big paw now covered his chest almost completely and he could feel the increasing strength as it pushed him harder and harder against the tilled wall. He looked aside and saw that Paul was undergoing the same changes and looked already smaller than him. “Paul! Paul!”, he said to his buddy. Paul didn’t react. His big balls and naturally through-the-roof level of testosterone combined with the insane pump and horned-up state from his workout intensified his trance. He’d been on the verge of orgasm under the shower before Aaron appeared and that had made him very susceptible to the infernal spell. The muscles on his once 275, now 175 pound body were pulled into his balls, transformed into cum and blasted out at high speed as the orgasm of a lifetime overwhelmed him completely. Mike saw the pleasure-filled expression on his buddy’s face and knew he was totally off. He tried punching Paul with his left arm but couldn’t reach him: the wrestler holding them was broadening and pulled them further apart. “MORE” Aaron groaned in pleasure, tilting back his head further and keeping his eyes closed as he savored in the pleasure and warmth of the growth. This felt so much better than his first growth in the locker room. His huge torso followed the example of his legs and grew to godlike dimensions. His cum-drenched abdomen swelled harder and bigger, turning from eight-pack into a 12-pack; the canyons separating the large, cobblestone-sized muscles were at least an inch deep; all the while, they kept absorbing the cum and turning it into fuel for his growth; his half-watermelon-sized pecs, inflated with more rock-hard mass as they turned into and then surpassed the size of whole watermelons; the thick, striated, vein-infested slabs of beef protruded from his chest, looking like two broad pillows shoved underneath the paper-thin, black skin; his round, broad delts pumped up with meat like two balloons being inflated; they swelled larger than cannonballs, the separations between the individual heads of the muscles clearly visible, capping his broader-than-two-wide-doors shoulders with perfectly round, globes of beef. Mike felt his body go weaker and weaker as more of his muscles escaped him through his cock. He knew there was no way he could reach his buddy anymore. He would have to break free from the giant’s hold as soon as possible if he wanted to maintain some of his muscles. The fear of being drained down completely fought with the pleasure in his mind and he felt the cursed orgasm beginning to cool down. The loads of cum blasted less frequently from his cock. He bit on his tongue hard and the pain overpowered the lessened orgasm. His cock began deflating instantly and an agonizing pain stabbed in his drained balls. The second his cock stopped blasting out cum, the hand on his chest released its grip and he slumped down on the tilled floor. Mike summoned every ounce of strength left in his fatigued, 140 pound body and slowly crept toward the exit. Before leaving the shower zone, he looked back and saw Paul’s feet leaving the floor as he shriveled down further in the growing giant’s grip. Aaron had sensed Mike’s spent orgasm and had released him instantly: he didn’t want to lose any time on a dried source. He focused his entire attention on the other football player and kept his eyes shut as he concentrated on the pleasure of his growth. Atop his now beastly shoulders, his traps swelled into pillars of meat that doubled his strong neck in size; the thick vein travelling from the top of his pillow-sized chest over his larger-than-cannonballs-sized delts aside his biceps, began pumping warmth and energy into his arms; his thick, low-hanging triceps jolted lower at the back of his arms, doubling them in size as the horseshoe-sized muscles beefed up with steely hard mass; his biceps simply shot upward, swelling into vein-covered bowling balls of raw power; it seemed like someone was pouring hard concrete into them as they turned into 60 inch orbs of ripped meat; his forearms, now effortlessly holding onto the pathetic football player, tripled in size as the cable-like cords of muscles wove themselves thicker and broader along his long forearms; his paws grew accordingly and half of his right hand now covered Paul’s chest completely. Paul’s incredible orgasm wore down and he opened his eyes. He felt totally disorientated and weak. He could feel his feet dangling in the air and something was pressing hard into his chest and shoving him against the tilled wall. He gasped loudly, a high pitch escaping his mouth, as he saw the huge paw that looked as large as his now pathetic torso. His gaze followed the impossibly wide forearm, marveling at the thick veins feeding the cords of muscle, travelled upward to the mountain-like, yet relaxed bicep, licking his lips in awe, and finally looked up into the face of the god that held him. When the final tingle of growth subsided in his now 9 feet, 700 pound godlike body, Aaron opened his eyes and stared straight into the diminished football player’s eyes. He pulled him closer to his body, his massive 60 inch arm not even bulging: the 75 pound fallen jock felt like a feather in his grasp. Paul shivered in the god’s paw: never before had he felt this weak. Fear filled his mind as he realized that he was completely in the grasp of the muscle god; the man could break him by simply clenching his fist. Fear mixed with lust as his eyes roamed the bulging mounds of hard, striated beef that fought for room on the wrestler’s incredible physique. The god’s deep dark, paper-thin skin highlighted the huge muscles beyond anything he’d ever seen. His now feeble 2 inch cock hardened at the sight. “So, you called yourself an alpha dog”, Aaron boomed. The rich, deeper-than-a-subwoofer baritone echoed across the shower zone, engulfed Paul and vibrated deeply in his body. “Ughn”, he peeped in his now high-pitched, girly voice as his 2 incher pumped a final load from his pee-sized balls and shot it from his shaft. Aaron saw the smaller-than-a-water-drop load coming and caught it on his tongue. “Ah, a final coat”, he said as he felt the effect instantly on his body. “So, mister alpha dog”, he said as he turned his attention back to Paul, “you look more like a weak kitten to me. A bug in my grasp, ready to be crushed.” “No, please”, Paul peeped, “I’ll do anything you say”. Aaron didn’t listen. He simply clenched his fist, breaking every bone in Paul’s pathetic body and tossed the lifeless football player in the furthest corner of the shower zone. He swaggered over into the locker room and marveled as he pulled on his former clothes and they magically adjusted to his new frame. In the library Tomas had everything ready for the upcoming ritual. He had followed the action in the shower zone through the mirror and was very pleased: soon all of his threats would have been dealt with and nothing would stop him from ruling the earth. He looked aside as he heard the sound of rattling chains. Anton regained consciousness after the hard blow to his face. A severe pain pounded in his nose on the rhythm of his heartbeat. He tried touching his battered nose but heavy chains held his arms in place. “Shit, Alex has tied me down”, he thought as he saw Tomas appear next to him. “Ah, you’re awake, my pet”, Tomas said to Anton, “just in time for the ritual”. “Let me go, Tomas”, Aton pleaded, “Alex could be back any minute”. “Alex won’t be back”, Tomas replied, “he’s carrying out his assignment as we speak. He secured you like I ordered him to do.” “What? You ordered him? Why?”, Anton yelled in disbelief and rattled his chains more violently. “You have a special place in the upcoming ritual, my pet”, Tomas answered, “Since you’ve absorbed muscles from both Keith and Sean, you can easily take their place.” “Take their place? How?”, Anton asked while trying to get free, flexing his huge muscles in the process. “Don’t you get it? You’re the sacrifice that will initiate the ritual! Image the supreme honor you have!”, Tomas replied. “Sacrifice?...”, Anton yelled but froze mid-phrase as Tomas rammed his cock into his ass. “Yes, my pet”, Tomas grunted in between violent trusts, “you’re the counterweight that’ll let me open the gates of Hell!”. He shoved his engorged 15 incher back and forth in his pet’s tight ass and groped his thick, bulging rack of pecs. “But… I’ve protected you from that priest. Helped you take down Sean and Keith.”, Anton pleaded, pulling at the chains with all his might. “Yeah, flex those muscles”, Tomas grunted, his 15 incher exploded in his pet’s ass as he felt the incredibly dense pecs harden into concrete-like slabs of beef under his touch. “You’ve served me very well and you know… I’m gonna miss the feeling of my cock jammed up your tight, muscular ass. But your time has come to fulfill your destiny: sink into the darkest depths of Hell to open its gates for my armies of evil!”, Tomas said and pulled his cock from his pet’s ass and went over to the corner of the reading room to get some rest before the ritual, leaving Anton fighting against the chains in vain. “Please, let me go. I’ll do anything you say”, Anton begged in vain. At the hospital, Alex had effortlessly discovered the fire exit like Tomas had explained. He quickly mounted the iron stairs to the third floor and moved to the second window on his left. He glanced through it and smiled as he saw Matt lying on his bed. He silently opened the window and stepped into the room. Matt was actually enjoying his stay in the hospital. He was safe here and the nurses were very kind, especially that 20-something blonde that had helped him this morning. It had begun with her gently washing his battered torso, groping his muscular chest with her frail hands and him flexing them under her touch. By the time she had reached his abs, both of them had been breathing fast and he’d seen the lust in her eyes. He’d gotten up, locked the door and positioned her against the wall and fucked her right there. The light touch of her delicate hands and the excited noises she’d whispered in his ear, he’d sent him over the edge in record time. She’d even came back in the afternoon to ‘check on his condition’. The thought of her made his cock harden, making a tent under the sheets. Suddenly, the sheets were pulled violently away. “Excited to see me?” Matt recognized the deep voice and shivers of fear crossed his 255 pound body. He reached up to grab the alarm but a large paw pressed down hard on his chest. Pain exploded through him as his broken ribs protested against the harsh treatment. Alex grabbed the alarm above Matt’s head and simply yanked it from the wall before tossing it across the room. “HELP! HELP!”, Matt yelled in panic, struggling against his tormentor. Alex grabbed a sheet and shoved it into Matt’s open mouth, silencing his screams. “For every round you’re cock shall blast, 10 pounds of muscle shall be past!” Before Matt could react, his rigid cock jolted to full hardness and throbbed in the air. He tried holding back his orgasm, but as his rock-hard 8 incher was engulfed by the wet hotness of Alex’ mouth, he lost it. His balls churned and began pumping away his mass into the already massive beast looming over him. Alex smiled as he swallowed load after load of cum, his own cock rock-hard in his pants from excitement. He sucked with all his force, teasing and overpowering the shaft with his tongue to force out as much as possible. His growth began instantly. His body sprang upward until it settled in at just over 9 feet. His legs exploded with mass: his diamond shaped calves simply doubled in size, his hamstrings amassing more hard mass below his juicy, rock-hard ass that ballooned into two perfectly round bowling balls of beef, his already tree-sized quads bulged menacingly as the thick cords of muscle forming them, jolted outward with more mass; his tight pants stretched and stretched and adapted to his new size as Tomas had promised. He could see the titanic mass of hard, striated, vein-infested meat through his pants; he flexed his quads, making the outlines and cuts of the hard muscles dance underneath the skintight fabric. Matt tried fighting against the growing beast that was sucking him dry. He felt more and more muscle disappear from his well-trained physique and a great weakness spreading through his body. He squirmed and budged, ignoring the sharp pain from his protesting ribs. Alex did no longer notice the weakening attempts to break free in his own empowering grip. He focused on the pleasure of his growth and let his muscles swell him straight into godhood. His strong 12-pack stretched and beefed up as the cobblestone-sized muscles hardened, deepening the canyons between them even more; his huge pecs pumped up with mass, making his nipples point straight down to the ground and protruding threateningly from his chest, casting shadows over the top half of his armor-like abs; striations, outlined against his protesting yet adapting, skintight shirt, rippled across the wide surface as he breathed in and out. Energy left Matt’s body as it sank below 150 pounds. His struggle in Alex’ grip didn’t even budge the beast’s fingers anymore and the swelling hand atop his battered torso felt heavier and heavier with every passing second and now covered his flattening chest completely and even part of his vanishing abs. Meanwhile, Alex’ inflating monster dick had freed itself from his skintight jeans. It escaped from its fabric prison, pulsing with power as it pointed straight forward along the bottom of the hospital bed. The lengthening and thickening shaft grew past its impressive 20 inches as fat veins pumped more mass into it. It strengthened further with every inch it grew and began pushing against the bottom of the bed, lifting it slowly as the throbbing shaft amassed even more length and girth. Matt tried kicking the giant in the ribs, but his weak kicks bounced off the growing god’s muscular flanks. He gave up the fight and let tears roll over his cheeks as he watched his own body shrivel down to skeleton-like skinniness and felt his bed undulating on the rhythm of the beast’s inflating monster cock. The weak kicks felt like a tingle against his strong obliques and Alex simply intensified his sucking on the shrinking dick in his mouth. His boulder-like shoulders widened further as his hard delts swelled with mass; their perfect roundness dwarfed cannonballs, passed into and just beyond the size of large bowling balls and accentuated his already incredible v-taper further. His body knew his love for his oversized biceps and the epitome of Alex’ growth concentrated on his majestic arms. They had been swelling steadily alongside the instant growth of his other muscles, but now that those had reached their new dimensions, their growth kicked into overdrive. Matt sank away deeper and deeper as his vital energy kept being drained away. He was now well below 80 pounds and every visible muscle had already evaporated from his body. It even took a great effort to keep his eyes open. Black dots danced at the edges of his field of vision as he stared at the swelling god sucking on his now nearly disappeared cock. Alex felt the intense growth of his arms and upped his sucking on the tiny dick; the head of the pencil-thin cock barely made it past his own lips anymore. His triceps beefed up at the back of his arms; low hanging cords of beef that easily withstood the pull of gravity, that screamed power by the cuts and veins decorating them, the size of 10 horseshoes forged together; his biceps mounded upward as rock-hard meat found its way into the orbs, turning them into hideously large, beach ball-sized mountains crisscrossed with river-like veins that outsized Alex’ head as he flexed his left arm to check his canons. He relaxed his arm, grabbed Matt’s puny balls and clenched them hard. A faint grunt, no louder than the sound of a fly, escaped between Matt’s frail lips. The last energy was forced from his body as the god’s paw crushed his balls. Matt passed out, nothing more than a dry mummy, at the same time the god’s 30 inch, monster cock throbbed violently and tipped over his bed as it exploded violently, coating the room with his superior cum. Alex got up breathing hard, put his slowly deflating cock in his skintight pants and headed for the window. Realizing he would no longer fit through it, he hit the wall with his right shoulder, busting right through it and disappeared into the night. Back at Orchid university, Tomas began his incantations at the altar in the library. “Penates meorum, spirites infernae, audite precationam meam! Accipite hanc victima! Da mei imperium exerciti infernae!” Anton put every ounce of strength he could summon of his huge muscles into his struggle against the rusty chains. He wiggled and tore, striations and veins exploding over his immense body in the process, but the hellish irons easily held his 580 pounds in place. He pleaded in panic but his master didn’t listen. Tears began flowing over his cheeks as he felt the altar begin to shudder. “Bestia mea victima est! Fortia per potentia! Aperte portas infernae!” Howling, hideous bats suddenly appeared and circled above the sacrifice on the altar. Anton shivered in fear as the beasts dove to him, evading his majestic body by altering their flight at the very last moment. He screamed in horror as the black bats crapped all over his torso: the stinking fluid burned into him and seemed to pull him into the stone altar. The last thing he saw was his master looking down on him and then the altar gave away and he felt his 580 pounds of muscle plummet into the unfathomable depths of Hell. A deafening thunder rolled over Orchid university, shaking the majestic buildings violently as Anton disappeared into Hell. A shinning, red vortex emerged were the altar had been and hordes of dark, hideously deformed, soldier like creatures jumped from it. They kneeled in front of Tomas, awaiting his orders. “Bring me world domination”, Tomas bellowed loudly. The creatures jumped up and scattered off to all directions; new soldiers jumping from the vortex as the others left the library. Sean, Keith and Logan wondered what took Mike and Paul and headed to the gym to find their buddies. The loud thunder made them jump up and look at each other. “Tomas must have began the ritual”, Keith said, “Let’s hurry and find Mike and Paul and disappear from campus!”. The three fallen athletes rushed over to the gym. They looked around the deserted room and barged into the locker room. The deflated, now 120 pound Mike looked up as he heard the door from the gym open. He weakly extended his skinny arm in the direction of his friends. Sean, Keith and Logan recognized their formerly very well muscled buddy and fear filled them. “What happened and where’s Paul?”, Logan asked as he kneeled down by his teammate. “Aaron stole our size under the shower. He killed Paul. Crushed him in his grip”, Mike muttered weakly, tears flowing from his eyes. Before Sean, Keith or Logan could react, the door of the locker room flew open and several howling creatures threw themselves on them. The weak boys were no match for the hellish legions in Tomas’ command: unhesitatingly the hideous soldiers slaughtered the four buddies and continued their invasion of the university. Alex and Aaron hadn’t lost a single second: once Aaron had drained Mike and Paul, he’d returned to his van, had knocked out the slowly awaking Connor and had driven off. He’d picked up the now humongous Alex at the back of the hospital and they had left town at full speed. A few hours later, they had reached a luxurious villa hidden in the mountains of northern Mexico. “Tomas has rewarded us well”, Aaron said appreciatively as he scanned the outside of the immense villa. “Ah, you have arrived!” Aaron and Alex turned to the car and saw Tomas’ face in one of the windows. “I’ve arranged everything, my champs”, Tomas said, “There are two blind servants awaiting you inside.” “Why blind ones?”, Aaron asked. “They will keep contact with the outside world when they go shopping. They will be unable to reveal your incredible size since they cannot see you. Enjoy your reward but remember that I can call you guys in action any minute. Don’t keep me waiting then or you’ll suffer the fate of my enemies!” Alex and Aaron stared at their own reflections in the car window as Tomas’ face disappeared from it. The two muscle gods entered their new home and grinned as they scanned the room. Alex ordered their two servants to go shopping for huge quantities of food and sent them off. “I’m gonna take a dive in the pool. You take care off Connor”, Alex said and swaggered outside toward the pool. Aaron looked at his fellow muscle god, seeing him strip and dive into the pool. He returned to the van, pulled out the still knocked out Connor, threw the 600 pound wrestler on his beastly, perfectly round, bowling ball-sized shoulder and walked back into the villa. A sudden illumination hit his mind and Aaron strutted toward the basement. As he left the stairs behind, he walked through a large wrestle room, the walls entirely covered with mirrors from floor the ceiling. He lowered Connor from his shoulder and tossed him down on the mats in the center of the room. He continued walking and smiled broadly as he opened the door at the back of the wrestle room: a fully equipped gym with impossible amounts of weights. He left the door open, ripped off his shirt, loaded the bar above one of the benches and began bench pressing 500 pounds, blood pumping into his massive pecs as he blasted out rep after rep. He racked the bar as he heard a faint sound and got up from the bench. Connor regained consciousness and looked around. Disorientation and a slight headache filled his mind as he scanned the room. He got up slowly, realizing he was in a wrestle room but didn’t know where he was. “Good! You’re awake.” The deep, rich, thunder-like baritone that filled the room and rattled the mirrors made him turn around. Connor looked up in awe and surprise at the titanic, shirtless beast entering the room and coming toward him. His eyes roamed the humongous, ripped muscles highlighted by the giant’s paper-thin, black skin. His mouth fell open in disbelief as he gazed up at the strong and squared jaw line, covered by a stubbly beard on the masculinity oozing face. “God”, he muttered as his brain recognized the black teammate he’d tossed around the wrestle hall back at university earlier that day. “That’s the right way to address me: GOD!,” Aaron boomed as he stopped in front of Connor. He grinned as he saw the wrestler scanning the huge mounds of muscle on his godlike frame. “Funny how quickly things can change”, Aaron said, “this morning you’ve ridiculed me in the gym in front of the entire wrestle team…” “I’m sorry”, Connor said in his deep voice, realizing how high-pitched it sounded next to Aaron’s baritone rumble, “I didn’t…” “Then you’ve trashed me in the wrestle hall”, Aaron continued, drowning Connor’s voice in his thunder-like baritone, “I want a rematch”. Connor gulped at these words. He looked up at the one foot taller muscle god’s face. Aaron saw the look of fear in the wrestler’s eyes and smirked. “You were more than twice my weight this morning. I only outweigh ya by a 100 pounds. And you’re already dressed for it. Let’s do this!”, he said coolly. Connor looked down and discovered he was still wearing his ripped singlet. He realized there was no escaping this fight, inhaled deeply and took his starting position in front of the muscle god, trying to ignore how the god’s impossibly wide shoulders eclipsed his own insanely broad ones. “Ready when you are, boy”, Aaron said. Connor’s wrestle instincts knew he had to take this beast by surprise and he jolted into action. He shot forward and grabbed hold of his opponent’s thick, muscular neck with his left hand while his right hand shot upward. Aaron anticipated this move and copied it: the instant Connor’s hand positioned itself atop his neck, his own left paw grabbed the wrestler’s neck, covering it easily; his right paw interlocked with the wrestler’s big, right hand, engulfing it completely. Connor tried to ignore how the muscle god dwarfed him and focused back on the match. He knew his surprise attack had failed and tapped onto his own devastating strength. He pulled with all his might on his opponent’s thickly muscled neck, his 50 inch bicep bulging with power and the cords of muscles on his broad forearms swelling from the effort. Aaron smiled as he saw the 600 pound wrestler’s face turn red from the immense effort. He slightly flexed his legs, making his monster quads harden a bit but easily withstood the superhuman force. Connor grunted from the effort, feeling the warmth spreading through his reddening face. The large paw on his neck forced him to look down as it began overpowering his strong traps and he gasped as he noticed the slowly flexing quads of the god in front of him. He pulled even harder on his opponent’s neck, his 50 inch arm shaking from the effort, but the muscle god didn’t budge. “Oh! You’ve already begun”, Aaron said mockingly and put some tension on his own 60 inch arm, making his paw sink into the flexed traps atop the wrestler’s neck. Connor responded to the attack by fully flexing his titanic quads. The huge muscle bulged outward as the thick cords of rock hard beef swelled into incredible hardness. Panic flickered through his mind as his huge, 600 pound body was slowly dragged toward the muscle god despite his efforts. Aaron grinned as he saw the struggle and efforts turning the wrestler’s face into a beat red, mask of pain. He tapped onto the full force of his 60 inch arm and pulled the giant in his grasp swiftly toward him. Connor didn’t know what happened: one moment he was struggling with all his might to maintain his ground, the next his face slammed into the protruding slabs of concrete-hard, hot meat that protruded from the god’s chest. The huge paw engulfing his own right hand released its hold and instantly a forearm, thicker than a young tree, wrapped itself around his broad lower back like a huge snake across a prey; a hard, cannonball-sized bicep dug into his strong obliques. The paw digging into his neck, slid upward, grabbed the back of his head and pushed him into the deep canyon separating the protruding pecs. Aaron enjoyed overpowering the giant that had played with him a few hours earlier. “Coach was always yakking about technique, but nothings beats the feeling of simply dominating an opponent with raw strength”, Aaron said into Connor’s ear and hardened his hold. Connor tried resisting the muscle god, but his strength could not be denied. He was smacked even harder against the hot masses of hard meat covering the 9 feet frame. His nose was filled with the masculine scent of sweat and musk deep inside the canyon between the muscle god’s pecs. His tongue traced the contours of the striated, pillow-sized muscles, filling his mouth with the salty taste of male sweat as it found the bottom of the deep canyon. Aaron felt the tickly sensation of the slick tongue between his pecs and pulled the 600 pound wrestler harder into his own humongous frame as he flexed his chest. Connor felt the protruding slabs of meat harden, nearly braking his nose by the sheer force they produced. The tip of his tongue disappeared into the deepened striations it snaked along. His hands roamed the impossibly wide back, discovering hard, prominent mounds of beef that bulged from the effort and fought for space on the broad surface. His long cock hardened against the hard mass of the muscle god’s left quad. Aaron felt the hardening snake of meat swelling against his beastly quad. He flexed his leg, overpowering and trapping the inflating cock between his own quad and the wrestler’s one. He felt his own majestic, monster cock going plump. He released his hold and pushed the wrestler down. “Suck off your god, boy”, he said as he ripped off his own pants to free his growing monster. Connor sank to his knees as the muscle god pushed him down. He marveled at the lengthy, black snake hardening quickly between the bigger-than-a-tree-sized quads. His own 20 incher was rock-hard as his hand made contact with the god’s cock. He couldn’t close his big hand around the growing cock’s girth. He tried denting it by clenching his strong fist, but the swelling snake resisted and even pried open his grip as it kept inflating. Aaron shivered as he felt the steely grip clenching around his hardening dick, his divine muscles flexing slightly in the process. “Too weak, boy”, he said as his cock overpowered the strong grip. Connor released the thick cock and it smacked him hard in the face as it jolted upward to stick out straight from the muscle god’s body. He gasped as he stared directly at the 35 inch, thick, black snake crisscrossed with veins. He opened his mouth as widely as possible and took in the cone apple-sized head. Aaron grunted in pleasure as the hot slickness of the giant’s mouth engulfed the head of his monster cock. He grabbed the back of the wrestler’s head and pushed his cock deeper into his mouth. Connor’s strong jaws protested painfully as his mouth was forced wide open to adjust to the thick snake invading it. He gagged as the thick head hit the back of his throat. Less than half of the muscle god’s cock was inside his mouth. He couldn’t even suck the thick, black snake as it completely filled his mouth and pried open his jaws. His legs were suddenly lifted up as two strong paws grabbed onto his quads. He grunted in pain as a hot, broad rod invaded his ass. “Not letting you have all the fun”, Alex said to Aaron as he pushed his 30 incher into Connor’s muscular ass. Aaron felt Connor grunt against his monster cock and shoved it in even deeper; now that Connor was held upright by Alex he could push his dick through his throat and into his esophagus. Connor grabbed hold of the muscle god’s juicy ass for support, his own 20 incher throbbing wildly in the air as his nose was shoved against the black man’s pubes and he felt Alex pubes rubbing against his own ass, impaling him on their monster cocks. Alex and Aaron stared at each other, lusting over and admiring the incredible size they had grown into. They felt pleasure flood their bodies and began fucking the 600 pound muscle beast with full force. Pain mixed with pleasure as the two gods ravaged his body. Connor’s 20 incher exploded onto the wrestle mats as orgasm rolled over him like a tsunami of electrical jolts shooting through his body. His huge muscles contracted and he would have bucked violently but Aaron’s firm body and Alex’ steely grip easily held him in place. The muscle beast’s orgasm sent the two muscle gods over the edge. Alex’ balls contracted and his 30 incher shot load after load of superior cum up the muscular ass it was devastating and right into the wrestler’s intestines. Aaron’s thick 35 inch snake spew its salty load past the muscle beast’s throat, injecting it straight into his stomach. Connor’s own orgasm cooled down after a few minutes but the gods kept filling him with their juices. His strong 12-pack began bloating and his stomach protested as the massive amount of cum inflated it further and further. Cum poured from his ass alongside Alex’ 30 incher as it was shoved in and out; cum flowed from the corners of his mouth dripping against the thick, black snake Aaron was pounding his mouth with. As he felt like he was going to explode, the gods withdrew from his ass and mouth and let him fall down onto the mats covered in his own cum. Connor stared up at the muscle gods towering over him, realizing he had been reduced to their 600 pound boy toy… Meanwhile, the hideous creatures of Tomas’ infernal army were flooding the town were Orchid university was located. Police officers tried in vain to resist the hordes of undead soldiers but were overrun by the continuous stream of hellish legions. Within three hours, Tomas was in full command of the city and sent his armies swarming out all over the state, slaying any resistance they met.
  7. Short macro story..not the best but straight to the point. --------- Morty was a geek. A nerd. Picked on through childhood, through high school and now college. For his awkward ways, for his intelligence and for his short skinny weak frame. Morty was sick of it all. The misery of being bullied and picked on turned his mind and attention to focus on something else - Vengeance. Being a natural born genius in science - namely chemistry, Morty had been working for months and months on developing the ultimate growth serum. Morty didn't want to just grow a bit of muscle to help defend himself. No. He wanted to be huge. Ginormous. Gargantuan. A literal walking muscle god. Exacting revenge on his bullies and the world. And he planned on carrying out this plan of revenge very soon. Setting his plan into motion at school, Morty waited inside the school gym for the jocks to finish changing and start practice. Morty trembled with excitement and nervousness at the thought of transforming in front of the bullies, at seeing the looks on their faces as he ascends into a gargantuan muscle god. He felt his cock straining against his briefs, rock hard. Chad, the main jock bully entered the gym in his tight vest and shorts, showing off his muscular physique and smirked when he saw Morty, "hey dweeb, what you doing here? The girls changing room is that way!" Chad scoffed "or maybe you just wanna get changed...right here!" Chad grinned evily as he grabbed Mortys polo and ripped it in two exposing his pathetic body. "Ha! Look at you pipsqueak! You'll never have a real man's body like mine!" Shouted Chad as he pulled a most muscular making his muscles bulge even more! As Morty felt the rage in him building up.... "Now let's compare legs, dork!" And with that Chad quickly pulled down Mortys slacks revealing his sticklegs and Chad lifted up his shorts and posed his monster quads next to Mortys showing who was the bigger man..."Fuck yeah! I'm the alpha"...'not for long' Morty thought as he kicked off his slacks and shoes so he was just in his black briefs then pulled out the vial from the slacks pocket as Chad was too busy pulling a double bicep admiring himself some more. "So Morty, you gonna get changed or what?" Chad asked, not noticing Morty was downing all of the God serum. "Why yes Chad.....and by the way I'm feeling....I'M ABOUT TO CHANGE....RIGHT........NOW! UGGGHHHH!!" Bones snapping. Skin stretching. Muscle popping as every fibre of Mortys being demanded and willed growth as Chad turned round to see what was happening...."what the fuck?!" "HAHAHA FINALLY!" Shouted Morty as he rapidly inched taller and taller while his limbs stretched, shoulders ballooned out, back broadened wider and wider! Pecs inflated to bowling balls! Then beach balls! Biceps inflated too! "YESSS HAHAH MAKE ME A GODDD!!" Screamed Morty as calves and quads grew and grew, he was becoming a real muscle freak! "WHO'S THE ALPHA NOW, CHAD? HAHAHA!" All the ruckus drew the attention of the rest of the jocks who came rushing into the gym to see Morty becoming a real monster! Half of them tenting their shorts as soon as they saw him! "WELCOME TO THE SHOW, BOYS!" yelled Morty as he continued to grow, reaching 10 foot and flexing a monstrous double bi! "AHHH BRAD!" Shouted Morty motioning to one of the jocks and stomping over THUD! THUD! THUD! "REMEMBER THAT TIME YOU MADE ME SUCK YOUR DICK IN THE LOCKER ROOM?" yelled Morty as Brad suddenly noticed the straining huge bulge in Mortys briefs coming up to Brads eye level..."WELL I THINK IT'S TIME.....YOU....REPAID THE FAVOUR!" as Morty concentrated and flexed his now monstrous cock destroying his briefs to tatters exposing his growing body completely nude and forcing the tip of his now 3 foot long cock in Brads mouth making him gag immediately! "HA! PATHETIC!" And with that Morty began stroking his monster dick as his body continued to grow to godhood! "MMMM FUCK YEAH" Morty was stroking with one hand and flexing a gargantuan bicep with the other as he continued to inch up..and up...and up...teaching 15 foot now toward the ceiling as the jocks couldn't help but look on...
  8. Hey guys! Sorry about the wait and the short chapters. I have an overarching story planned, but the execution has proved challenging. I hope you like the new Keith, who seems surprisingly close to the statue... Last chapter: The stone doors closed behind him, a monstrous maw closing him in, but he barely noticed. He was transfixed by the sight before him. From the cobbled wall opposite him, two half pipes curved towards the center of the cavern. There, a grand structure of cracked marble stood, proud despite the test of time. The pipes lay on the edge of a round pool, and in the middle posed a statue of leviathan proportions. A man situated himself in the now dry fountain, supported by gargantuan legs. Wear had done nothing to hide the large, firm feet layered with sinew and muscle; nor the veins coursing up the cords of power that formed his calves and quads. Their shape was perfect, every shard of diamond flesh touched by the divine. A monstrous beauty sprung from where the legs met the waist, a thick and heavy rod of virility. A single vein ran its path around the beer can shank, crowning the head. The foreskin a royal cloak to its regal liege, it pointed towards Keith. The balls hung low and large, an engine to an incredible machine. The waist impossibly slim compared to the statue's quads, and yet the sense of imbalance did not present itself. A godly set of eight gemstones rose up to meet the pecs, massive jewels cut with sharp grooves. They were laid in golden shell of rock-hard obliques. The pecs square perfection, bulging mounds of strength with large round nipples. A thick muscle neck and hulking traps supported the head. The knife sharp jawline and handsome chin left Keith yearning to discover what possible face could complete the masterpiece. But the features above the jaw had faded, a jumble of indents and rough hewn edges. A tingling ran itself over Keith's skin, like it was going haywire. He walked slowly towards the fountain, taking in the withered vines that had taken root in the stone. A step away from the masculine masterpiece, his eyes were drawn to the statue's bulging outstretched arm. Atop the large palm, a shrunken bud began to shake. A flood of sudden green light exploded from the shoot. Pulses of energy shook the shrine, as it rejuvenated, expanding and growing. The leaves fell away to reveal a lotus like flower, thick rows of petals around a center. Blood red, it glowed with mysterious energy. The stigmas rose up, releasing a heavy scent that filled the room. 'leather and sweat,' Keith registered. A golden nectar flowed into the flower, the petals forming a natural cup. The heady musk enveloped his mind, blanketing Keith in a state of half consciousness. Gripping the hard forearm of the statue, he pulled himself towards the flower. His lips touched the flower and he drank. The liquid gold flowed into his mouth, bursting on his tongue. Oak and sweat dominated his taste buds, as if heaven had condensed inside. The salty drink cascaded down Keith's throat, seeping into his body.He started to glow bright white, and a searing heat enclosed his body. The flower shriveled as the last of it's yield entered Keith's mouth, and the burning sensation peaked. Pain forced him conscious, vaguely aware of his actions. He felt as if his body was being burnt away into nothingness, and yet he could not scream. His clothes disintegrated, revealing the his near emaciated form. A puny 3 inch boy dick hung out, hard as steel. Keith didn't know when the pain stopped and the pleasure began, but he was too overloaded to care. His balls began to change, expanding rapidly to the size of chicken eggs. His scrotum expanded to encompass them, hanging low. His cock was next, lurching forward as his foreskin regrew. A vein forced its way up the shaft, before hitting the large cock head. His balls visibly clenched as a steady flow of precum trickled down the newly christened foot long. Keith became acutely aware of the changes, how the euphoric sexual energy blasting through his body unstopped was changing him. Muscle fibers broke through his thin pale skin, wriggling for space. They grew greedily, wrapping his weak form with pure muscle. Quads formed, muscle cords snaking downwards. Pecs ballooned outward, expanding then condensing multiple times before forming hyper dense plates of power. His arms seized up as rigid bands of steel cord encased him. Abs that could crush mountains formed on his stomach, carving deeper and tensing harder. Shoulders bulged outward, struggling to maintain a connection between rapidly growing pecs, traps and biceps. The pleasure of his body expanding was too much, and Keith found a new voice within his corded neck and new Adam's apple. A resounding "FUCK!" echoed through the shrine, deep, commanding and intensely masculine. His head snapped back as his shoulders widened, accommodating the pulsing segments of his incredibly defined back. Keith's skull expanded to match the hulking proportions of his body, the jaw growing more square and cut than his new abs. The chin sculpted itself into , and masculine cheekbones poked through his new fact free face. The nose became straight and proud, the bridge perfectly thick. The acne scarring melted away, leaving smooth skin and a luscious tan. His brow became thick and prominent, and a manly layer of stubble coated Keith's jaw. He opened his eyes, revealing a deep piercing blue, shifting waves of green and aqua playing in the light. His hair thickened, voluminous and sexy. A Sandy blonde shade infused within the strands, growing them longer. It fell back in a mouthwatering combed over look, completing the immensely handsome face. A golden skin formed over Keith's new muscle, smooth and eye catching. Veins appeared under it, thick and powerful, in all the sexiest areas. Hair grew around the navel, thickening around the base of his cock, and a light dusting over Keith's pecs led inward to the crevice, where the hair traveled to connect to the navel. The armpits filled with a healthy bush of hair, crushed by his muscular arms and torso. The energy dissipated, releasing Keith from immobility, but left him sexually unsatisfied. Desire churned out from his balls, straight to his mind. He looked towards to door, where beyond lay a cranky old man who was suddenly looking very worthwhile.
  9. Chapter 1 James didn’t have much going for him. He wasn’t large. He wasn’t small. He wasn’t even ugly. He was alright looking by most accounts; he just didn’t really stand out. It worked all right in high school since he could slink into the crowd and avoid bullies, but back there he had had all his old friends. His relative anonymity was getting to be tiresome now that he was in a new city and a new school. He had been so looking forward to college because he had heard about all the great parties that he could go to, but having gone to a few already, he could safely say they weren’t any better than the ones back in high school. He spent the entire time with his back to the wall and a red solo cup in one hand. James let out a sigh as he trudged into his last class of the day. It wasn’t even a real class; it was just a TA session. Every Wednesday night, his physics class had an extra hour long session tacked onto his already tedious schedule. The only plus side was that the nerdy grad student who instructed the class during this period was hella cute. The black haired guy was a little on the chubby side, but he carried his weight well. His small, round, thin, gold rimmed glasses gave him an endearingly goofy look like something out of a children’s fantasy novel. Even the guy’s name was cute. When James had seen the name “Mathis” on his syllable he had expected some dour old geezer or some Axe’d up dudebro. He was very pleasantly surprised when the cuddly looking grad student had shown up and insisted they all refer to him by his first name, Donnel. James threw his book bag under one of the desks and gave a nod of recognition to the dude seated two seats down. This was the closest thing he had to a friend this early into his new school life. With any luck, by midterms they would even know each other’s names. James whipped out his smart phone and began flipping through his various apps. An errant porn gif crossed his dash which caused him to hastily turn off the screen. The last thing he needed was one of the other students to catch him staring at big, floppy, dongs in the middle of class. He took a quick glance around to be sure no one had seen him; he seemed to be in the clear. He let out a sigh, and waited for his dick to decide to forget what he had seen. His own respectable cock was refusing to obey and steadily chubbing in his loose cargo shorts. James could do nothing but slump back into his chair and wait. He might not have much going for him, but what he did have was an overactive imagination. His mind was still replaying that pixelized cock bobbing and flopping in rhythm with the deep thrusts that the dude was receiving from behind. James stared into the blank screen of his phone. He was too afraid to turn it back on for fear of someone catching sight of the gif that was most assuredly still playing on his dash. All he could do until the TA decided to show up was stare at his own reflection in the black screen. The college student staring back at him looked just as skittish as he felt. The thin, face was covered in freckles, mostly clustered along his cheekbones. The tussled mop of light, reddish brown hair looked like something from the Beatle’s early career. He wasn’t particularly fond of the Beatle’s or their hairstyles, but he had been too broke to get a haircut and too lazy to touch a brush in months. The lean student absentmindedly twirled the phone in one hand as he watched the second hand tick away on the old and busted little wall clock that had probably been mounted on that same wall since the physics building had been christened in 1973. Eventually, the cute, chubby grad student staggered into the classroom, huffing slightly as he struggled for breath. “Alright class… Get your books out… we’re going to review for your first exam.” Donnel rattled on between gasps for breath. It was obvious that he had been running to get there. A slight layer of sweat had soaked into his shirt causing it to cling to his skin. It wasn’t the first time Donnel had shown up to class slightly late and even more out of breath. Apparently he had one of his graduate level classes all the way across campus that let out immediately before the class he was scheduled to teach. It was no doubt a serious inconvenience, but James couldn’t help but wonder if the chubby guy had lost a few pounds over the last few weeks. James was sure he could see a little definition showing through the TA’s clinging shirt. James never really had trouble in physics. He could memorize formulas and laws and theories really easily. At this rate this class was going to be ridiculously boring for him. Sure enough, his mind began to wander within the first five minutes of their review. His mind always wandered in this class, but he never got called out on it. His eyes were glued to the cute TA the whole time. He was sure that Donnel had lost a little weight in the past few weeks. James couldn’t help but think how much better the guy was looking now. James mind began to drift farther and farther. Donnel was cute now, sure, but he’d be frickin' hot with a bit of beef on him. James’s mind drifted to thoughts of the chubby instructor filling out his green and white plaid button up shirt with brawn instead of pudge. James could actually see that dude’s shirt fit him snugger as his flabby little moobs gave way to thick slabs of brawn. As the teacher’s shirt got tighter and tighter, the ripples of his toned, beefy abs began to show through the front of the fabric. The grad student’s chest got wider and thicker as his pecs and lats grew and spread. The TA’s now huge muscles pressed against his shirt on all sides causing the fabric to pull away down the center. Large gaps could be seen up and down the front of his shirt as the buttons struggled in vain to bring to two halves of clothing together, and still the TA kept swelling. The buttons eventually gave up the ghost and began to burst free at mach speeds. The miniature projectiles ricocheted off of desks and walls, but no one in the class seemed to notice. The TA’s shirt sleeves ripped loudly as his huge, muscular arms got to be simply too much for them to handle James was actually a little startled by the noise, but it alerted him to all the growth going on in other areas as well. He could see now that it was not just the cute teacher’s chest that had been beefing up, but the rest of him as well. The seams of the TA’s tight jeans were already showing signs of popping and snapping. It was obvious that his thick, brawny quads were going to overpower the tight denim at any second. James’s eyes focuses on the cute guy’s pants as he waited with bated breath for those to follow his shirts example. As James eyed the teacher’s lower half he became aware of the pronounced bulge in the front of the guy’s jeans. James had to silently give his subconscious a mental high five for thinking about that too. It was only fitting that such a massive, burly stud of a man have a cock to match. James couldn’t wait for the beast to burst free of its cruel captivity. Something that great deserved to be seen by all. The lanky student bit his lower lip as he stared at the lewd sight before him. He wanted to rub one out so bad, but he dared not do so in the middle of class. There was no telling just how much of his actions would be visible in the real world. He might find that he would be beating off in the dream and also in front of the actual teacher. With an audible shred, the teacher’s jeans burst into ribbons, leaving him completely nude except for a skin tight pair of grey boxer briefs. The briefs did absolutely nothing to disguise the magnitude of the TA’s cock. It was thicker around than James’ skinny arm and well over a foot long. The thing had to be closing in on two feet. It was impossible to tell for sure due to the way it bunched and folded in the confines of the teacher’s way too tiny undies. James’s jaw dropped. That thing was that huge and still soft! The massive dick was accompanied by two equally massive, cantaloupe sized nuts. It was a miracle that the immense package was still contained within the thin layer of fabric. “Not for long.” James thought to himself with a smirk. This dream was too good to stop now. He was going to go for the Full Monty. The TA had another surge of growth, but still no one except for James seemed to notice. The last vestiges of the guy’s clothing broke away, leaving the now towering wall of toned beef completely nude. His huge, nude TA still paced and spoke confidently as he rattled on about gravity and inertia and friction and wind resistance, but James couldn’t care less about that shit. The TA’s cock was so huge that the head of it grazed the ground as he walked. The shaft was as thick around as James’s lean waist. The two enormous nuts were now the size of jumbo beach party beach balls. His broad chest was almost three times as wide as James’s shoulders. Either individual massive pec was easily the size of James’s Torso. James could curl up like a cat and nap on that broad, burly chest of he wanted to, and he really wanted to. James was so entranced by that fantastic brawn that he just had to get up and get close to that. He had to feel those glorious muscles against his flesh. He wanted to rub his tongue against that colossal dick. James smirked as he noticed the steady chubbing of the teacher’s cock. The gigantic schlong steadily hardened and lifted itself up and up. James couldn’t have peeled his eyes away if he wanted to. He couldn’t be sure, but it was almost as if the giant dick was reacting to his thoughts. James shrugged and rolled with it. This was his dream after all. He began imagining even more lurid acts he would do if he ever got the chance. He wanted to straddle that giant cock like a roadhouse mechanical bull and ride it as it bucked and lurched. He would latch his arms and legs across it and rub his tongue along every inch that was available to him. The TA’s giant cock was already oozing pre and shuddering in response to James’s imagined touches. James wanted all the cum that was contained in those massive, heavy nuts all over him. He was just about to hop up from his seat and begin attending to Donnel’s amazing, growing, dream cock, but the teacher seemed to be one step ahead of him. Donnel set down his text book and went about pacing around the room while absentmindedly stroking his colossal dong. James’s eyes followed him intently as did the eyes of most everyone in the class. James couldn’t help but wonder if anyone else was part of his dream. All eyes seemed intently glued to the now beefy instructor and his massive, oozing cock. Quite a few students had a pink tinge of arousal visible on their faces. James could even catch sight of a few boners pressing against the fronts of some of the guy’s pants. One or two of the braver ones even had a hand down the front of their pants shamelessly stroking their hard-on. He quickly dismissed the idea. If anyone else could see this, surely they would have freaked out by now. James shoved his doubts and inhibitions aside and slowly walked up to the TA. No words were exchanged, but the look of sheer, unadulterated lust in James’s warm brown eyes made it absolutely clear what he wanted. He stood in front of the massive, muscular dude and began to stroke and lick the enormous cock. James dug his own respectable bulge against the soft underbelly of the massive cock and began to grind passionately. He was so overcome by the sheer magnitude of the cute young teacher that he forgot everything else. The thick, veiny cock pulsed and shuddered against his face and chest. James knew it was only a matter of moments before it blew. Seconds later, James was knocked to his feet by a surge of jizz from the monstrous cock. The spooge was so warm and thick that it was like being bathed in tar, but it smelled and tasted so wonderful that James didn’t mind at all. The thick, goopy spunk soaked his clothes and clung to his lightly tanned skin, and yet more and more kept flooding from the TA’s immense nuts. By the time the torrent of spooge had tapered off, James was so coated that his own load was completely lost in the giant tidal wave of spunk from the teacher. James could do nothing by lie in the giant puddle of spooge that now covered the entire front of the classroom. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry. I don’t know what came over me!” Donnel sputtered in shock. James chuckled silently to himself; he knew exactly what just came over him. The huge, brawny guy slowly reached a hand down to help up his jizz soaked student. James reached up and accepted the teacher’s help. James was feeling so great from the intensity of his own climax that he was only vaguely aware of how sticky his skin was now. His gut felt pretty heavy too. There was no telling how much of the salty spooge he had guzzled in his erotic trance. James’s eyes slowly scanned the classroom. All eyes were on him now. The other students looked at him with a look of awe, shock, and even some jealousy. As the afterglow slowly began to fade, James was snapped out of his trance by a loud, rattling ring from the bell. He nearly jumped from the shock. He came crashing back to reality. He suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed. All the other students were gathering their books and packing their bags, barely paying attention to him, but one or two would occasionally glance his way. Something just seemed off. He was sure he had woken up from his dream, but he was still coated in spunk. A firm hand on his shoulder brought his attention back to the cute guy. James looked up to see that same cute face looking down on him, although the face had noticeably trimmed down since the beginning of class. No surprise there, considering the TA no longer had an ounce of fat on his. He was now a huge, hulking muscle god with a four foot cock. “Again, terribly sorry about the mess… You know how it is with guys like me… Sometimes we just can’t help it.” Donnel said apologetically. “Although… Given the lengths you went to to get me off, I suppose I can’t really take all the blame.” He added with a sly wink. James was dumbfounded. He could no longer tell the difference between his dream and reality. Just how much of what he had dreamt had he really done? Had he really transformed the cute, portly grad student into that massive, nude wall of brawn and balls? The real question was could he do it again if he wanted to? A devious smile crept across his jizz-coated lips. This was going to be an interesting semester after all.
  10. All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1RMBwDf7UPA6P6UR9YNSBADC-9ObDd7aj3TdkN4uYk2Y) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ For first looks and more illustrations, check out my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ecchimultiverse First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter SPECIAL THANKS TO MY PATRONS: DONALD MORGAN, ANDREW L, SPECTRI, RANSIS, & IREEAN IREEAN GO AWAY All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1RMBwDf7UPA6P6UR9YNSBADC-9ObDd7aj3TdkN4uYk2Y) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ For first looks and more illustrations, check out my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ecchimultiverse First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter SPECIAL THANKS TO MY PATRONS: DONALD MORGAN, ANDREW L, SPECTRI, RANSIS, & IREEAN IREEAN GO AWAY Chapter 22: Two of Cups Pink cherry blossoms danced in the warm breeze, as the door to a roof access was wedged open. Sunlight illuminated the robotic figure stepping onto the simulated Japanese high school rooftop. The Soulem, cladded in a zaffre-colored fundoshi and red rectangular glasses, slowly trudged towards two muscled men hugging beneath a cherry blossom tree. Gemini coughed, “Um, hey guys.” Marvelous Man and Gene broke their embrace from each other. The musclebound superhero could feel himself blushing at being caught hugging the Totochtin prince. He wanted this intimate moment to stay private; especially from it being crashed by his soured love interest. As he and Gene looked back at Gemini, he saw the Soulem avoiding eye contact with mood rings flushed pink. “Sorry to interrupt, but the magical researchers need to talk to you,” said Gemini. The Soulem reported, “Something about upgrading your silver balls...which I’m pretty sure isn’t a sexual euphemism, but it could probably go both ways with you involved, heh.” “Yes, I can see the humor in your insinuation, Gemini. Thank you for telling me. I will take the leave.” nodded Gene. The Totochtin prince began his walk towards the simulation’s exit. As he passed by the cherry blossom tree, he stopped in his tracks. Gene turned around to face Marvelous Man. The rabbit superhero smiled, “Remember the wisdom I have imparted, Marvelous Man. You must make the effort to bandage it up. And when you are ready, I will happily partake in the fruits of the intercourse with you.” Marvelous Man could feel his body emit an extreme amount of body heat, that it felt like his own flustering was cooking him alive. He and Gemini watched the bunny demigod continue walking towards the rooftop access door. As Gene approached the door and exited through it, Gemini slowly shuffled about to face the musclebound superhero. The Soulem said nothing, while avoiding Marvelous Man’s eyes. The hulking bodybuilder did the same. “So…” hesitated Gemini, “This is awkward…” Marvelous Man replied, “Uh-huh…” The muscle demigod felt like this was his moment to say something. To make the first move in repairing their relationship. But...could not find himself to say anything. Every part of him wanted to either curl up into a ball or fly away. He then heard the Soulem speak up. “There’s...kinda a lot I want to say, but it’s actually hard to figure out where to start. Which is kinda funny...ya know, cause I got a computer mind and all. So it should be easy to figure it out...Sorry, I’m yammering,” said Gemini. He continued, “I guess I should say congratulations. After thinking it over, I’m glad you picked Gene. He’s...a lot nicer than how I’ve been. And I know he can make you happy, since he can detect emotions and all. I don’t even really know the guy, so I can’t just make off-handed assumptions about how he truly feels about you…” “Oh, no. It’s not like that,” corrected Marvelous Man. Gemini held up his hand, “Sorry, Justice. Please just let me finish. Before I lose the guts to say all this...or I might go back to being how I was,” The bulky android paused for a moment before taking in a deep breath. As he released his held breath, his shoulders sagged. Gemini then began to lightly pound his fists together; knuckles against knuckles. “...You were right. I was being a Dickasaurus Rex. I’m sorry,” admitted the Soulem. He explained, “And the more I look back on what I did with you, the more I realized how fucked up I was being. I forced my feelings on you and bullied you. And that’s not real love...and that’s not what a true friend does. Back in Sunnysville, I tried to understand your life...but I didn’t ‘get’ you. Ya know? Hell, I was being such an ass with Gene. Bet he didn’t even know what was really going on, huh?” Marvelous Man shook his head, while Gemini stared up at him. In the space of a nanosecond, a thought whispered in his mind. Was it wrong that he never said a thing to Gene about his relationship with Gemini? “No, not really,” he replied. Gemini walked towards the cherry blossom tree and laid his back against the bark. His cybernetic eyes briefly wandered up at the tree’s pink canopy before flicking back down at his hands. The gentle pounding of the bulky Soulem’s fists against each other continued. He sighed, “And then...after you called me out on my shit. It didn’t exactly click, cause all I felt was broken...inside. I ran back to my dad. Hoping to fix my pain. But all he did was try to explain love and stuff. That it’s not like those movies and books and whatnot.” The fist pounding ceased immediately. Gemini grasped his elbows as if he were hugging himself, while mood rings on his cheeks turned a deep blue. Teardrops began to form at the edge of his eyes. “And that’s when I got the call about your...disappearance. You were gone for two whole days, and...it was...I was terrified. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and whether you were alive or not. So that’s when I thought about if you never came back. I just...I’m not sure if I could handle that. Just a world without you, Justice,” said Gemini. He paused to wipe his eyes of the tears. The Soulem smiled, “And then a miracle happened! You came back. It was at that point that I realized it didn’t matter if we weren’t boyfriends. I just wanted to be with you. I-in your life, I mean. Being friends with you was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Stepping away from the tree, the robotic being gazed up into his overly-muscular friend’s eyes. The bulky Soulem’s mood rings flashed to rose red, while his face became serious. His arms shifted; one drooping down while the other held onto the relaxed elbow. “A-an-and! I know that all that stuff I did and how it hurt you...I know we can’t ever go back to being how we used to be. Things are different now, and I get that...but that doesn’t mean we can’t go back to being friends again. Maybe not on the same level, but we can still try to get close to that, right?” Marvelous Man felt stunned at what he heard. His friend’s disposition seemed to have flipped on the opposite side of the spectrum. The muscle demigod knew his friend was right...but he could not help but feel guilt at what happened. It was a mix of both feeling like he enabled his friend to have bad behavior and also hurting Gemini’s feelings. The hulking bodybuilder smiled, “Yeah, I forgive you. And I honestly do want to be friends with you again.” The Soulem’s mood rings flashed the color of sky blue. “Great! But, uh, just so you know...I’m still a work in progress. I’ll still be an asshole, but I’m trying to be better. Just call me out on it, okay? Can’t keep using my new body as an excuse for what I do,” grinned Gemini. Marvelous Man nodded, “I will. I’m just glad we could patch things up.” “But, ummm, Gene and I aren’t a couple,” he corrected. Gemini’s mood rings became grey, “Huh?” “He broke it off with me,” said Marvelous Man, “He realized he couldn’t love me the same way I loved him...it was for the better. I’m pretty sure I’m the one that’s supposed to have a broken heart, and, uh, I still kinda do. But I think he was more broken up about it than I was.” The bulky Soulem paused for a second; his face projecting dumbfoundedness. Gemini’s mood rings shifted to white, “Oh...You okay?” “I think so. He said some things that put it into, uhh, perspective. I wasn’t any better than you when it came to love,” sighed Marvelous Man. He mentioned, “Plus, I kinda went through some traumatizing shit that having a wrecked love life isn’t so bad.” The robotic being looked away. “Oh, right...the kidnapping,” recalled Gemini. Marvelous Man slowly nodded, “Yeah, that...and some stuff that happened after…” “Did you want to hug it out and cry about it?” suggested the Soulem. The musclebound superhero smiled, “Naw, I’m all cried out right now. And I think I sorta reached some state of numbness...again. If that makes sense. But...I think I could use a close friend to talk about all this heavy stuff.” >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> “Wow...that’s some heavy shit right there,” remarked Gemini. The two friends sat at the bench beneath the blooming cherry blossom tree. Marvelous Man stared out at scenery beyond the roof’s metal fence. He sighed, “Yeah.” “But why do you call your opposite healing power a poison? I mean, you know what it means, right?” commented Gemini. The muscle demigod looked down at his friend. A part of him wanted to explode in the frustration of being questioned. Apollo had trained him in the ways of medicine and drilled into him the many facts of what is poisonous, toxic, venomous, etc...But he knew it would not do good to be so volatile at a newly repaired relationship. Marvelous Man’s eyebrow flexed in confusion, “Uh, yeah, I do.” “Just saying, it’s more of a venom than a poison, cause you’re directly inflicting it on someone,” said Gemini. Marvelous Man corrected, “That’s only when you’re injecting it into someone. Mine is more like...a secretion.” “Eh, having that dark power stab into people’s eyes to cause mental trauma sounds more like a venom. Besides, it sounds cooler,” shrugged the Soulem, “Oh! You should call it, Soul Venom!” The hulking bodybuilder giggled. He had missed moments like this. Events where he and Gemini just hung out as Justice and Gemini to talk about random things. Stupid things. Things that were childish but always had an odd depth to it. Even if it came down to talks of what color would they want grass to be. Or if the fetishism of creating a Soulem version of oneself and having sex with it is masturbation. Marvelous Man hummed, “That does sound cooler.” Seconds ticked by in silence. Neither being moved, as cherry blossom petals danced in the breeze. The mood rings on Gemini’s cheeks slowly changed to purple. “So...you have a unique celestial element, huh? And it’s supposed to help you win against the Skeleton Lord?” questioned Gemini. The muscle demigod nodded, “Yep. But it was more like I had a better chance of winning if I figured it out what it was.” “And it’s a virtue type of element, sooooo that’s gonna be harder to figure out,” noted Gemini. Marvelous Man sighed, “I guess. And it’s connected to my parents’ own celestial elements. My mom said it was a seed...whatever that means.” “So we got war, love, and...light? Or is it medicine and athletics?” said the bulky Soulem. Marvelous Man replied, “Heh. My dad just considered himself as complex. But I saw him as more of an art god when I tried to put a label on him.” Gemini’s mood rings flashed orange. “...How the hell are supposed to figure it out with such a mixed bag like that?! War isn’t even a virtue! It’s the opposite if it were trying to be in the same category somehow,” he grunted. Marvelous Man shrugged, “I dunno. Maybe if we tried to see the good side of it, it’d make more sense.” “And just what positive aspect do you see in war that isn’t connected to the profiteers of it?” said Gemini. Marvelous Man looked at the ground, “Well...maybe...I dunno...passion? Like, people only go to war to protect the ones they love and their nation. And love is, like, a chemical reaction for people to fight harder or just keep going at something regardless of difficulty. And it’s when it gets harder that a person refuses to give up.” Gemini looked at his friend with a stupefied look for a moment before staring out at the scenery. The color within his mood rings shifted back to white. “It’s so weird how you have such a unique perspective to things. It even shows in your fighting style. Well, either that or you just like being super extra...But even though what you said is a complete stretch, I wouldn’t say you’re wrong. True virtue is being able to give your own positive feedback no matter the challenge. Kindness instead of wrath and whatnot,” he replied. The Soulem continued, “So something that is connected to love, passion, and...art. Feels like it should be something super easy to figure out. But it’s like when you’ve looked over something you didn’t feel was important that when you really need it, it’s just not there. Sooooo...I dunno, soul? Since the soul can be linked to emotions and all. Seems like that’s what it is given how your powers seem to work with the venom and supercharge.” The muscle demigod thought about what his robotic friend said. It almost sounded like it had made sense...but his instincts told him that was not the answer. “Naw, it doesn’t feel like that’s what it’s supposed to be,” frowned Marvelous Man. Gemini sighed, “Well, shit.” The uncomfortable silence made its way back; filling the void of unsaid words. Marvelous Man felt he was going in a spiral that was slowly going down to an unfortunate end. Every time he tried to find a way to break from the pattern or forget about it, the feeling would always pull him back in. Ugly and numbing emotions would creep back in; never doing anything but always making themselves aware since the second encounter with the Skeleton Lord in the subway. It had been easy to immediately ignore such nasty things back then. But after his confrontation with his parents...the emotions had now started to pounce on the musclebound superhero. And with every second he was aware of them, they would gnaw at the core of his optimism. Marvelous Man needed to be rid of such things. He gambled everything on his friend. If not being about to exterminate the vermin feelings, then at least Gemini could help take some weight off of the negative emotions. His lips trembled. “Have you...ever wished you didn’t exist?...Or maybe...that people would be better off without you? Maybe even the world?” he asked. Gemini immediately glared up at the hulking bodybuilder. His face was completely flabbergasted, while his mood rings flared a bright yellow. “WHAT?! NO!,” exclaimed Gemini, “Justice, why would you say that?!...What’s-are you alright? Bro, where’s this thinking coming from?” Marvelous Man looked away, “It’s just...I don’t know...something I’ve just been thinking about for a little while...maybe even more since shit went down…I know I try to stay happy, but it’s been getting pretty hard right now. All I feel now when I’m alone and just thinking is guilt.” “ And...well...It’s cause it feels like all I’ve done so far is make everything worse for everybody else. And now...that feeling of not being able to shake off the bad stuff just keeps coming back. It’s like, it doesn’t feel fair that I’m alive when so many people are dead. Even when they’re not completely innocent or something, I’m not sure. I’m going through a lot of stuff so fast my head is just flying off and I don’t know how to feel anymore other than considering...not...existing,” he continued. Gemini placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Bro, are you feeling like that right now?” “I guess…” shrugged Marvelous Man. Gemini spoke, “Take a deep breath right now, okay? Just do it.” It was an odd request from the Soulem, but the hulking bodybuilder complied. Taking in a deep breath of air, his meaty pectorals slightly expanded. Marvelous Man’s pecs then deflated back to their normal state upon exhalation. The muscle demigod could not explain how, but it felt as if the stress he was carrying had been slightly relieved. “Now listen, it’s okay if you want to think that, but don’t ever believe in it. We can’t stop the thoughts we have and should just go through all the, ya know, processes of it. But it’s dangerous if you give thoughts like that the power to become truth, okay?” lectured Gemini. The Soulem continued, “I know a lot of crap went down. And whether you were part of it or not, it still would’ve happened. Those homeless people still would’ve died back at the subway and the crack den, but you were able to stop the Skeleton Lord from causing more harm. Hell, Gene is still alive cause of you. Oh! And those people at the park too! They would’ve bled out if you weren’t there.” Marvelous Man thought back to those events the Soulem listed. His friend was not wrong. Things could have gone a lot worse if he had not been there to heal his friends and the innocents. And now that he thought about it, if he had not been kidnapped by the PB&J Gang, the Skeleton Lord might have arranged Gene to be kidnapped instead. “I guess you’re right,” he nodded. Gemini spoke up, “Yeah, I am. I mean, you even managed to befriend Sugar Skull and bring him into the D.A.B.! Who else but you can do that? Though I think he might not be happy right now with Puzzles ‘stern talking to’ if ya catch my drift.” “And even if you weren’t Marvelous Man right now, you changed people for the better as Justice. Look at your parents. They’re...well...the stories always projected them as batshit insane gods, but you talk like they’re overbearing parents that love you too hard!” he exclaimed. The Soulem threw his hands up, “That’s a complete one-eighty if I’ve ever heard one! I know you said and did some things to them, but I’m sure they’ll come around if you give them some time.” Gemini paused for a moment; his mood rings turning pink. “And, well...I met you by chance. We became great friends, and you helped awaken me by being there for me. Maybe things didn’t turn out so well after that...but in the end, we made up...just right now though, heh…” he babbled. Gemini sighed, as his mood rings turned white. “My point is, your very existence makes all the difference and don’t you forget it. The positive things you provoke in people may be small compared to what you expected, but it all carries the same weight. Even if it’s as small as being their friend or even getting someone to try a new thing. And superhero or not, your existence inspires change in the people around you,” he said “But look, I’m no therapist, and I really think you should see someone about this. I’m currently pulling therapy articles from the internet for what you’re probably dealing with as we speak, but all I’m doing is putting a band aid on the situation.” Immediately after Gemini’s speech, the entire simulation shook with the intensity of a strong earthquake. While lasting for only two seconds, the quake was vigorous enough to upset the Soulem’s balance. Gemini fell forward, as an overly-muscular arm reached out to him. Marvelous Man leaped upward and swept his arm around his robotic friend; catching Gemini in the process. Steadying the Soulem upright, the musclebound superhero’s thoughts shifted from concern of his friend to the quake. His mind quickly pieced together that there must have been some outside force to cause such shaking. “What just happened? Was that an earthquake?” he said. Gemini held his fingers against his head, “Not sure. Give me a sec. Scrolling through social media.” The Soulem’s metallic eyebrows furrowed. His eyes seemed to look glazed over, as he streamed through data. Seconds after, he blinked his eyes back into focus. Gemini’s face expressed only horror, while the mood rings flashed to a bright yellow. “Oh my gosh...no no no nonononono…” he muttered. Reaching into the brown satchel strapped over his shoulder, Gemini pulled out a glass smartphone. He tapped on its glowing screen a few times before holding it up next to his face. The Soulem turned away from the muscle demigod; pacing back and forth in a frantic motion. He mumbled, “Come on, come on, come on! Please, oh, please pick up.” Gemini came to a sudden stop, as his face was instantly washed over with shock and then relief. “Dad! Oh my gosh. Thank goodness, you’re alright! Why aren’t you at work today?...You got the flu? Oh, thank fuck that happened...S-sorry, Dad. I-I’m just really scared right now, but at least you weren’t at work today...It’s-I’m, uh, not sure how to say this dad. There was an explosion at the Arkos Division, and it was so powerful that it just shook the D.A.B. headquarters right now...No, I’m fine…I love you too, dad...” he rambled. Marvelous Man’s eyes went wide upon hearing Gemini’s side of the conversation. He felt himself nearly reacting to what he heard, as a telepathic message interrupted him. The musclebound superhero heard his field analyst’s voice. Fairuza announced, “Gene, Marvelous Man, please report immediately to the Director’s office. If you spot Gemini on the way, please bring him. I tried contacting his phone, but it’s busy.” >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> “Seven minutes ago, an explosion occurred at the Arkos Division headquarters,” reported Puzzles, “It is not yet certain if it was an act of terrorism, but it was most definitely an attempt to distract us heroes.” “And the reasons as to why we know this is because at the same time of the explosion, our magical alarm wards placed around the Skeleton Lord’s fog had detected a spike in activity. A monster and two humanoids with undead features have been seen exiting the fog. A, uh, pardon the term, skeleton crew of drones and police officers placed there have been able to stop the intruders. Recordings of the intruders have yet to be released.,” he continued. Director Skye sighed, “We were lucky so few appeared. Any more than those three, and we definitely would have to send over some body bags.” Sugar Skull shuffled about in one of the office’s cushy seats. “What happened to the invaders?” questioned the ghoul. Puzzles pawed at his tablet, “They were immediately killed. The humanoids were armed with firearms. Once they aimed their weapons at the police, law enforcement attacked in self defense. The monster was also killed. Assumed to have been caught in the crossfire of bullets. Let’s see...no bodies were found. Upon death, the suspects had instantly disintegrated and left behind a distinct bleach odor.” Sugar Skull concluded, “Which is what the creatures of Limbo smell like. Uh, ummm...OH! Guaranteeing that the fog really is a gateway for the Skeleton Lord to exit through.” Marvelous Man felt both of his hands being grasped, as he felt nausea begin to overtake him. The surprising, tight sensation caused his queasiness to recede. Within each hand, the muscle demigod held Gene and Gemini’s hand. A warm, rubbery feeling in one clutch, and a soft hand that emitted flecks of anger underneath concern in the other. Elbows on the desk with fingers intertwined over each other, Director Skye leaned forward. He closed his eyes momentarily, as he exhaled a long, audible sigh. His eyes then flicked up at the team members; scattered about in either seats or standing in the center of the room. “Without collecting all the conclusive evidence, it’s too early to arrive at that kind of destination...Sadly, I am inclined to agree with you, Mr. Skull. I cannot ignore such a coincidence to occur soon after our earlier meeting,” said the master witch. The soft closing of a book echoed in the tension-filled office. Marvelous Man looked down to see Fairuza recently finished running a magical scan with her book. The field analyst had an apprehensive look on her face, as she shifted in her chair. Fairuza slowly raised her hand into the air, “Director Skye, sir, I’m afraid I have some more bad news. It’s about the explosion at the Arkos Division headquarters.” “...And what foreboding information have you discovered?” said the Director. Fairuza disclosed, “Multiple casualties discovered so far, and the explosion caused half of the facility to collapse. It’s unsure how many more are buried underneath the rubble. Survivor injuries has ranged all the way to critical. Medigel they have present had been greatly reduced due to the explosion and only have a handful on hand. Paramedics arriving soon.” Fairuza swallowed. She had a pensive look on her face. Her eyes gazed downwards as if she were carefully choosing her next words. “I was able to scan the area and find the login information of a security guard for their cloud’s security feed...They will no longer be needing it. Um, in any case, I’ll be accessing their cloud right now. Director Skye, where can I broadcast?” she finished. The Director’s hand began to glow blue with magic, as it casted multiple gestures at his wall-mounted paintings. What had been colored brushstrokes on the canvases were now a black screen with a runic symbol illuminating in the center. With the magical alteration complete, the master witch pointed at his modified painting with an opened palm. She gave a slight bow, “Thank you, sir.” Setting her yellow book on her lap with the front facing down, the mystical field analyst placed her index finger upon the center of the hardcover’s back. The tip of Fairuza’s finger began to softly radiate with magic. She then traced her glowing finger in a circular motion; causing the back book cover to shine a small magical seal. Fairuza then lifted the cover; revealing a square gap sliced into the page. A glint of a shiny object gleamed from the tiny chasm, as it rose up into view. The object exposed itself to be a crystal sphere made of an indigo rock that was freckled with white patches all over. The rising then stopped, as a pedestal made of paper could be seen holding the crystal ball. The crystal ball seemed to be perfectly sized for Fairuza’s palm, as she cupped her hands around it. Fairuza’s hands glowed a faint blue before the magical energy seeped into the indigo-colored sphere. The mystical field analyst stared into her crystal ball, as the enchanted painting’s image across from her flickered. With the runic symbol on the canvas completely dissolving, the login page of a website took its place. Fairuza continued gazing into her magical sphere, as the blank boxes of the login page had begun to fill with text. Everyone but Marvelous Man turned to the screen. The musclebound superhero kept switching attention from the screen back towards the mystical field analyst; confused by the interaction of magic with technology. Marvelous Man bent down to whisper at Gemini. “Ummm…” he asked, “So how is she…?” Gemini explained in a hushed tone, “There’s a computer chip in her merlinite crystal ball. And with the runes grafted inside the ball to interact with the chip, she can affect technology. But the magical capabilities of that can’t hack the government or anything. It’s more like a magical universal remote.” The mystical field analyst slowly exhaled. Her hands slightly trembled, as the skin stirred. The moving skin split open; revealing eyeballs flickering about before focusing on the orb. Marvelous Man flinched at the sight, while everyone else continued casting attention towards the painting. “NGHUH!” reeled the musclebound superhero. Gemini clarified, “She’s fine. I guess the inside of her crystal ball is laced with spells to multiply her consciousness. I wonder what it’s like to look at 4 different screens with one mind...FYI, each of her eyes are a copy of her mind. Can’t imagine what her migraine will be like after the fact.” Seconds passed before Marvelous Man managed to force his gaze away from the disturbing eyes breaching from Fairuza’s hand. Turning his stare towards the magical painting, he spotted a new update to the canvas. The screen had transformed into four different camera feed screens; each one fast-forwarding through a timeframe before skipping to another scene. Marvelous Man tried to watch, but the images moved faster than he could comprehend. Fairuza continued scrying her crystal ball in silence. After a minute had flown by the fast-paced images turned to black. The eyes on her hands then began to shut; withdrawing into her body. With the last magical eye closed, Fairuza looked up from her crystal ball. “It wasn’t an accident,” she said with a neutral tone. The Director inquired, “By whose hand?” “A man in Aztec-styled clothing. Putting him on screen,” Fairuza replied. It had been too much of a coincidence to think someone else would be running around in such a specific style. Marvelous Man kept his mouth closed; it was obvious who it would be but did not want to assume. The musclebound superhero continued watching the black canvas, as he gripped the arms of his jacket. The black painting changed its image; shaping into another recording. The camera feed showed two lab-coat workers standing in front of two glass pillar-like containers with unrecognizable technology attached to parts of it. The glass structures held two figures within; obscuring their faces by huddling down with their faces casted at the ground. As the scientists were making their rounds with checking on the computers attached to the containers, an unseen force pulled one of them back. The yanked scientist then bent himself backwards; standing on the tips of his toes as if possessed by an evil spirit. The neck’s left side of the attacked scientist then split open, as blood started to spurt from the wound like a sprinkler. The other scientist stood in motionless shock at the scene in front of her; unflinching even after being bathed in the splatters of her coworker’s blood. The male scientist was then released from the invisible grasp and landed flat on the floor. As it happened, a figment began to materialize next to the downed scientist. It started reconstituting as feet; tanned as dark as mocha. The building blocks of the visible being continued construction of the legs with the edges of a red cloak that was outlined with teal. As the materialization created a red-knotted loincloth with a teal outline, the musculature of the mysterious being appeared to be slim like a professional athletic runner. The man came armed at that time, as a bow and quiver came into visibility and slung over the shoulder. The entirety of the head and face was covered; topped with a snake-shaped wooden headdress like in the Aztec illustrations Marvelous Man had seen in world history textbooks. Sugar Skull crossed his arm, “So the watchdog has come to collect.” The video paused, as the Director looked towards the Limbo being. “You know him?” questioned Director Skye. The ghoul nodded, “That’s Itzcóatl. He’s one of the Skeleton Lord’s guardians and right hand man. He showed up at the Skeleton Lord’s newest hideout when I rescued Marvelous Man. He’s a hunter that hides in the fog like a shark.” “And to make him more annoying, he can become, ummm, invisible. The Bruja also told me his quiver is enchanted to make copies of his arrows. Haven’t fought him yet but seeing this shows he’s probably the most deadliest out of all of them,” added Sugar Skull. The rabbit demigod released his hand from Marvelous Man’s, as he turned to face the ghoul. Gene frowned, “But how did the Itzcóatl manage to invade the Arkos Division headquarters? The building should have been warded to detect the magically invisible.” As Sugar Skull opened his mouth, he was interrupted by an electronic voice. “Not if that guardian’s power is supernaturally-based rather than a mutation. They’re a superhero company based on only science. And because they’re so sure their machines can detect and quarantine magic, that they refuse our help or even do basic warding. It’s why their supernatural captives keep breaking out, and their machines are very limited at detecting the various frequencies magic has. Until it’s figured out what the base frequency of magic is, they can only detect the handful of spells or supernatural powers made public,” sighed Gemini. Puzzles spoke up, “Fairuza, continue the footage.” Everybody turned their attention back towards the magical painting, as the security recording resumed. Itzcóatl pulled out a dagger with a black blade that appeared to be made of obsidian glass. The guardian pointed his weapon at the injured scientist before switching the dagger’s attention to the female scientist and then towards the glass containers. The footage did not seem to have any audio recording capabilities, as the female scientist nodded while mouthing a reply. With shaky hands, the female scientist placed her face in front of one of the containment unit’s computers. The device appeared to be an apparatus designed for eye-scanning identification. Upon completing the process, the Arkos Division worker typed away at the keyboard. The glass container reacted to the input by melting a rectangular doorway on the side of itself. The female scientist then ran to one of the drawers lined against the wall and opened it. Pulling out what she needed, she scurried over to her bleeding partner. While the worker was applying what appeared to be a salve from a soft tube onto her partner’s wound, the prisoners within the confinements exited the two glass containers. Marvelous Man recognized first one; Zareb, the African guardian of the Skeleton Lord who commanded electricity with the twin axes. The other was a knight, who was defeated before the musclebound superhero arrived at the scene. Zareb raised his hands into the air; his hands wiggled about as if it were calling out to something. Black smoke similar to the fog ebbed from his forearms and flowed into his hands. The whisping miasma then shapeshifted into Zareb’s iconic axes. Clanging them together, the runes grafted onto the enchanted weapons glowed. Lightning emanated from the magical axes; shocking nearly everything in random arcs before striking the recording camera. The camera feed became black, as the lightning shot into its eye. “My best guess is that Zareb, the Skeleton Lord guardian with the lightning axes, caused some sort of negative reaction with his continuous voltage and...triggered an explosion. Until we know more, that’s all I can say,” reported Fairuza. The Director questioned, “And who is the knight? What exactly can he do?” “Other than wielding a glaive-type lance, I don’t know, sir. But he’s not as dangerous, if he was captured so easily,” replied Fairuza. “Not unless he wanted to be captured. Same goes with Zareb,” said the master witch, “And what about our guest?” Puzzles stated, “Gilgamesh is still on ice, Boss. Not taking chances with this one. He’s tried a couple of times to get out whenever he’s been thawed for questioning, but our wards have made sure to keep him caged. We’ve also made sure to enchant the time capsule spell he’s in with a curse to put the freeze on anybody that didn’t undo the spell properly.” “Good. With the Skeleton Lord’s muscle out of the game, it’s made things easier for us. Double down on invisibility jamming spells. I do not want that ghastly rat getting in here at all,” said Director Skye. Puzzles bowed, “Yes, Boss!” “Gene, you go to the fog entrance and be on standby. Until we get barriers up, you’ll be the first line of defense against the invading ghouls and all those Limbo monsters,” commanded the Director. Gene nodded, “I acknowledge.” “And take Sugar Skull with you. Maybe this time, he can actually benefit us,” added the master witch. Sugar Skull placed his hand over his chest, “Ah. I’m touched.” “Marvelous Man, I need you to head over to the Arkos Division and help the injured folks with your healing abilities. Use that expansive healing of yours. The supercharge one. If anybody is alive under the rubble, it could be their only life support until they’re rescued. Gemini, you go with him. See if you can dig up any information in regards to...well, anything. I suspect you and your father’s relationship with the A.D. could give you some leeway in attaining such,” ordered Director Doug. “Yes, sir,” said Marvelous Man and Gemini in unison. The musclebound superhero felt pride course through his body, as he remembered what Gemini said to him earlier. He might not be able to save everybody, but he can make a difference in saving some lives. It was time to focus on what he can do and give it his all. Director Doug leaned forward; fingers interlaced with one another. A bead of sweat began to form on the master witch’s brow. He gave a quick sigh before looking up. He declared “Mark my words, people. This is only phase 1 of what is about to come. Dismissed.” Next Chapter
  11. All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1va_QP1NSQgduxt4gKPKujgkOQdP790ShBojSOWz6x6c) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ For first looks and more illustrations, check out my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ecchimultiverse First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter SPECIAL THANKS TO MY PATRONS: DONALD MORGAN, ANDREW L, & SPECTRI All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1va_QP1NSQgduxt4gKPKujgkOQdP790ShBojSOWz6x6c) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ For first looks and more illustrations, check out my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ecchimultiverse First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter SPECIAL THANKS TO MY PATRONS: DONALD MORGAN, ANDREW L, & SPECTRI Chapter 21: Insight Stepping through the exit of Sunnysville, Marvelous Man arrived back into his apartment from the closet door. The muscle demigod pulled the key out of the lock before closing the door behind himself. He gazed at his living room, as he turned around. It was still dimly lit with the light bulbs set to low and no sunlight in sight. Marvelous Man slowly made his way back to his bedroom. He glanced at a clock while passing by that had read half past three in the morning. His parents had no doubt kidnapped him soon after Gene fell asleep. Seconds had only ticked by in the real world, while the musclebound superhero got his rest in Sunnysville for however long it took before waking up. Opening the door to his room, he spotted Gene sleeping beneath the covers of his bed. Marvelous Man quietly undressed himself, while kicking away his articles of clothing to a side of the bedroom. The hulking bodybuilder then took soft steps towards the empty side of the bed; slipping underneath the sheets upon arrival. Marvelous Man laid his head against his pillow and turned to Gene. The Totochtin prince was in a deep sleep; giving off a small sigh with every few breaths. The white rabbit ears were relaxed and tucked behind Gene’s head like a sleeping rabbit. Marvelous Man continued to stare at his superhero partner, as his eyes slowly drifted back to sleep. >>>>>>>>>>>>>> The musclebound superhero awakened hours later, as the beams of morning sunlight cascaded through the bedroom windows. Gene stirred from slumber soon after Marvelous Man rose from his bed. As the two got ready to leave, they hardly said a word to one another. Both were preoccupied; Gene mentally contacting their mystical field analyst, Fairuza, and Marvelous Man texting. Marvelous Man could feel Gene emanating emotions of uncertainty but decided to question the bunny demigod after the meeting with Director Doug. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The two superheroes stood in front of the Demonic Authority Bureau headquarters. Marvelous Man stared off into the distance, as Gene leaned next to the entrance. Gene spoke up, “Who is it that we are doing the waiting for?” “A friend,” answered Marvelous Man. The musclebound superhero continued to watch the many people passing by the headquarters; heading down wherever the sidewalks took the citizens. Marvelous Man’s squinting finally broke into widened eyes, as he smiled. He then began waving his bulky arm at the public. He exclaimed, “There he is!” A skeletal ghoul dressed in a purple suit strolled towards the two with a relaxed gait. Sugar Skull appeared to have a cocky grin...though Marvelous Man could only sense it, since the limbo being had no facial skin or muscles. As the skeletal ghoul drew closer, Marvelous Man could hear Gene almost whispering at him in a hushed tone. “I would like to remind you that Doug will not be the pleased,” said Gene. Marvelous Man frowned, “Yeah, but this is important. We need to work together if the Skeleton Lord comes back. Besides, Sugar Skull saved my life, so Director Skye should be able bear him just this once.” Gene paused. He continued staring at the ghoul walking closer to them in a flamboyant style. The Totochtin prince stifled a giggle. “I cannot say the same for Puzzles,” smirked Gene. Marvelous Man grinned, “Heh, I bet he’s gonna flip. What do you think he’ll do?” “He will most likely stab the ghoul,” said Gene, “How did you manage to get the Sugar Skull’s phone number?” Marvelous Man replied, “He gave me his card a while back.” Upon the ghoul’s arrival, Marvelous Man exchanged hugs and pleasantries with him before heading inside the headquarters. Employees silently gawked at Sugar Skull, as the trio made their way towards the elevator. The limbo being made sure to flirt with every D.A.B. worker he passed by; giving out his business card with each one. From the people who looked at the cards, most wore a disgusted look on their faces. Others simply appeared to be intrigued. Arriving on the fifth floor, the three made their way towards the office of Director Skye. Marvelous Man allowed his friends to enter the room first before ducking inside. He made sure to tuck his head down to avoid banging his forehead against the doorframe. As he shut the door behind him, the air felt as if it had become heavy with tension. The musclebound superhero looked across the room to see his higher commands staring back at the trio. Director Skye was stationed behind his desk, and Puzzles was perched on top of the wooden furniture with an electronic scroll in his hands. The Director’s eyes were full of displeasure, while Puzzle’s was engulfed in fury. The smoke imp immediately tossed the electronic scroll onto the desk before standing up. Puzzles flashed his sharp, white fangs, as his hands began to glow a soft, blue light. He hissed in his thick, Russian accent, “YOU!” Sugar Skull stepped forward. The ghoul threw his arms up; his body language intentionally trying to draw attention towards himself. His purple teeth chattered in delight. “ME!” he shouted. A mystical rune appeared in front of the smoke imp’s hands for a brief second before shattering. In its place were a set of daggers; automatically settled in Puzzles’ grip. The hilt of the bladed weapons were striped in white and blue. The silver blade was accompanied by two smaller blades pointing out to the right and left; perfect for catching attacks. Puzzles leaned forward with his legs bent in preparation for a big leap. The Director calmly called out, “That’s enough, Puzzles.” Puzzles hesitated before slowly turning his head towards his master. His eyes, still clouded with fury, sparkled with confusion. “We do not attack invited guests...even if we were the ones who did not hand out the invitation. Until he instigates with ill intent, we simply cannot do harm against the Bruja’s ghoul,” stated Director Skye. Puzzles pointed his dagger at the ghoul, “HE is no guest, Boss! That is a thief! He has already done ill intent! We let him in once, and that fatherfucker steals one of our archived magical relics!” Sugar Skull took another step forward towards the witch and familiar. “I was actually borrowing, little imp. I gave it back,” countered Sugar Skull, “Besides, the Bruja did ask nicely with the promise of returning it. Even tried to pay with info. But you all said no, and I had no choice but to take it...Sorry, I mean borrow it.” As Puzzles opened his mouth to fire back, the Director spoke over his familiar. Though strained with little patience left in the tone of his voice, Doug tried to speak calmly in his Southern gentlemanly accent. “And what, pray tell, do you want to ‘borrow’ this time?” he said. Sugar Skull held up his index finger, “Actually, I’m here to offer my services and, uh, disclose important information. I didn’t want to come here at all either, but I can’t refuse my friend’s request when he needs help...And cause I need to kill the Skeleton Lord.” The Director and Puzzles paused before their eyes slowly shifted towards Gene Lightfoot. Gene’s eyebrows flexed in confusion, as it transformed into realization. The Totochtin prince shifted uncomfortably, as Gene stared back at the higher commands. “No, I am not the Sugar Skull’s friend! Why do you all think such the things?” replied Gene. Everybody else replied in unison, “Well…” “He’s made sexual advances on nearly every staff member he passed by. On the first day he came in before he stole our relic. You are the most likely to befriend him, because you never turn down sex,” stated Puzzles. Gene bit his lip. The rabbit superhero appeared to want to protest, but he then sighed with resignation a second later. Emotions of confliction emanated from him but lacked any intensity to emotionally influence the people around him. Marvelous Man spoke up, “Ummm, actually...he’s my friend. He’s the one who rescued me from the Skeleton Lord.” The Director looked up at the musclebound superhero. His left eyebrow lifted with curiosity, as he folded his hands in front of his mouth. “And I suppose there’s a long story to your great escape,” remarked Director Skye. Sugar Skull screamed, “GAH! Where did you two come from?” Marvelous Man watched the half-alive ghoul flinch back, as he recoiled in surprise from the scream. Tracing his eyesight towards the source of what frightened Sugar Skull, he saw two people sitting in the black lounge chairs against the office walls. Amidst the commotion with the Limbo being and Puzzles, Marvelous Man and Sugar Skull took no notice of the other guests in the room. Seated in the comfortable furniture was Fairuza; clutching onto her book whenever a stressful situation arose. In the other chair was Gemini. Flashbacks appeared in Marvelous Man’s mind at the memory of yelling at his friend, destroying a relationship, and then getting kidnapped by the PB&J Gang. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The master witch crossed his arms. Sugar Skull was in the midst of explanation before the Director interrupted. His eyes glinted with irritation, as his next words seemed to wretch out his mouth like a painful vomit. “So let me try to understand that last part. After you escaped into Limbo with Marvelous Man, you bargained the location of a Mana Stone in order to get away?” gritted Director Skye. Sugar Skull nodded, “That is correct, yes.” Puzzles pointed his dagger at the ghoul. Bloodlust raged in his eyes, as his fangs flashed once again. The glasses resting atop his nose began to fog. “Can I stab him now?!” snarled the smoke imp. The Director sighed, “Sadly, no.” “He gave away a Mana Stone, Boss! That kind of relic doesn’t just recharge energy on its own, it also multiplies a caster’s magical output! And he gave it away to a doomsday supervillain!” exclaimed Puzzles. Marvelous Man looked towards the ground; slightly hunching down. The guilt he had felt back in the pocket dimension diner came flooding back. He now wished that he had never been rescued, as it broke his heart that his superiors appeared intensely stressed. The hulking bodybuilder immediately perked up, as he felt something grab his hand. Looking over, he spotted Gene’s hand wrapped around his own. Marvelous Man could feel the bunny demigod’s calming emotions slowly rinse his guilt away. He could still sense small bits of anxiety in Gene’s broadcasted emotions, but the compassion was still sincere. The musclebound superhero stood up straight without realizing. Director Skye rubbed his temples, “Noted. But we got Marvelous Man back. And at the very least, Limbo is no easy place to cross. From what I remember, Limbo has different time zones reflecting eras of the people sent there during such eras. That said, Sugar Skull managed to buy us some time to prepare. Question is, how long?” “About two weeks at the very least. But best case scenario is that we’ve got a month or two. He might have the compass, but he could still get sidetracked or lost in a maze or something,” estimated Sugar Skull. The musclebound superhero’s mind glimpsed a film of memory. He remembered the hidden art fixture that could only be used with a certain glass marble. His wish for a happy ending hanged on his next words. Marvelous Man speaks up, “B-but that’s only if he can get back, right? Sugar Skull was the only one with a way out, so there’s no way he can get out…” Fairuza raised her hand before speaking up. All eyes had turned to her. “Well...actually...There’s more than one way to get out of Limbo. Sugar Skull just had the easiest. It’s most likely the Skeleton Lord will exit using the fog he created in the slums,” explained Fairuza. The hulking bodybuilder could feel his heart thump loudly, as his blood felt like it had become ice. He hoped that he would not hear what he was most likely going to hear. Marvelous Man just wanted this nightmare to be buried and left for dead. He hesitated“...You mean the fog that’s supposed to go away once the Skeleton Lord is trapped in Limbo?” “I’m sorry...but...no. No change in the fog has been reported since you’ve escaped. The fog could be feeding on an external power source. But due to its vast size, it’s hypothesized that the fog is still somehow connected to the Skeleton Lord. With that connection, he could somehow use it as a way out. Um, by the way, I’m glad you’re back and alive,” said Fairuza. The gravity on Marvelous Man’s heavy body seemed to have increased a hundredfold. His knees felt ready to give out, but the musclebound superhero held onto what will he had left to save face. The Skeleton Lord was soon to be overpowering and has a way back to return. He had barely survived when encountering the supervillain’s weakened state; doom was the only thing Marvelous Man could see in his foresight. Gemini jumped into the conversation, “We’ve tried to disperse the fog, but it seems to have a mind of its own. Wind magic and other such spells had no effect on it. Not even the tech from the Arkos Division could suck it up or blow it away.” “The magical researchers have managed to analyze the fog, and we discovered it’s actually essence. Ya know, life energy and such. No such records exists of such a phenomena, and the energy just refuses to be absorbed by anything. I’m not exactly sure what the fog is capable of, since it destroyed all the probes. But like Fairuza said, it’ll probably be used as the exit from Limbo,” he continued. The Director leaned back in his chair, “So we have two weeks to either think of a way to destroy the fog or stop the Skeleton Lord. And without hard evidence that the Skeleton Lord is an A-lister supervillain, we can’t call on the Nemesis Branch for help...makes me wish I had the absolute authority to label a threat level without evidence.” “Probably for the best we don’t, Boss. Don’t want to get hit with a discrimination lawsuit by some D-lister,” commented Puzzles. The master witch sighed through his nose, as he grunted with closed lips. Director Skye circled back to the topic, “That would definitely be unfortunate. So! We need some solutions, people. We are sitting in a pot ready to be lit, and the only people capable of handling this Skeleton Lord is in this room.” The ghoul gestured his hands to look like guns; pointing them at the master witch. “I’ve got you covered, Boss!” chimed Sugar Skull, “The Bruja is, ummm, enchanting some items to let two people other than myself travel into the fog, well...mostly undetected. Plus, it’ll decrease the accuracy against any attack that’s supposed to hit them. With it, we can go into the fog and kill the Skeleton Lord before he tries to attack the D.A.B.” The Director tapped his fingers together, “Not the best idea at the moment. But just to humor you, how long will this enchantment take?” “About two weeks,” said Sugar Skull. Gemini sputtered, “I’m sorry, but are you shitting me?!” “This is some very high magical stuff. It takes a week to make just one.” shrugged Sugar Skull. The smoke imp’s ears twitched. His eyes pointed towards the ground; bouncing left and right as if lost in thought. “Wait, why did you say the Skeleton Lord would try to attack the D.A.B.?,” questioned Puzzles, “You only gave him the location of the Mana Stone in Limbo...but then Boss interrupted you to repeat the...YOU DAUGHTER OF BLIGHT! YOU SET US UP!” Daggers raised, the witch’s familiar shifted itself back into his leaping stance. Smoke could literally be seen steaming out of his cat-like ears. “Sugar Skull, I do believe you should fess up. My patience with you continuously throwing people under the bus is melting faster than an ice cube on a black top. Did you give away the location of the D.A.B.’s Mana Stone?” frowned Director Doug. Sugar Skull crossed his arms, “I did. And I’d do it again to save Marvelous Man.” Seconds ticked by, as all sound in the room seemed to have ceased. The Director slowly inhaled a long breath through his nose before letting it all out in an equally long nasal exhale. His eyes seemed to grow cold and distant; as if he were trying to suppress and intense rage. The master witch’s left hand glowed with a blue hue, while flicking his wrist in a circular motion. A runic symbol flickered on the office door behind Marvelous Man for a moment before disappearing; causing the door to slowly swing open. “Everybody but Sugar Skull, you can all leave now. We will reconvene tomorrow with hopefully some new ideas to take care of this problem. In the meanwhile, I will have...a little chat with Mr. Skull here. Dismissed.” said Director Skye. The spinning, yellow flowers in Sugar Skull’s eyes transformed into red exclamation points. He turned to Marvelous Man; appearing to be silently begging for help. Marvelous Man could only look away with shame. The D.A.B. members obeyed without question; power walking as fast as they could towards the office’s door. In such a hurry, Marvelous Man nearly bumped his head against the top of the door frame upon ducking through the opened door. As Gemini was the last person to exist, the door instantaneously shut itself behind the Soulem. The sound of a cat screeching echoed from the office, as a loud thud reverberated after the feline screech. At the same time, the shoulders of the exited D.A.B. members flinched. Gene turned to his partner “Marvelous Man. Do you have the moment? I would like to talk to you about something important in the training room.” “Um, yeah. Sure.” immediately nodded Marvelous Man. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> At the basement level of the D.A.B. headquarters, the two partners stepped out of the elevator. Marvelous Man noticed that Gene was definitely not being his usual talkative self. The morning of almost no verbal exchange could have been due to everybody being busy with something, but the Totochtin prince did not even utter a single word during the elevator ride down to the training room. Marvelous Man could not help but feel uneasy at what was going to happen next. The only thing the musclebound superhero could feel from the bunny demigod was a sense of trepidation. As they continued, the two came to a fork in the pathway. The left path branched off to a set of doorways leading into the training room. As for the path on the right, it led into the control room that altered the state of the training room. Gene gestured at the training room doors, “Could you please head into the training room? I will join shortly. I must do the calibrations in the control room first.” “Okay,” said Marvelous Man. Complying with his friend, the hulking bodybuilder continued onward towards the left path. He made sure to duck his head, while opening the door to the training room. Marvelous Man’s heart thumped with nervousness; he hoped he was not somehow being led into a trap. The inside of the training room was empty; as it usually is. The interior stretched to the size of a baseball field and was completely matted with white tiles. Marvelous Man remembered a brief explanation on his first day in this room about how each tile carried an enchantment. The enchantments not only absorbed attacks, but could also create a temporary pocket dimension with unlimited space. And with some combination of science, the training room could print three dimensional objects with certain levels of intelligence to create artificial danger. While walking towards the center, the tiles began to hum. The tiles then flipped over one by one to reveal a color. The colors did nothing at first until the amount of flipped tiles multiplied to an insurmountable count Marvelous Man could not keep up with. Nearly at completion, the colors had begun to coalesce with each other. The mixtures began to form shapes, brightness, and sound. The shifting continued, while Marvelous Man began to notice a design pattern of the new world around him taking shape. It was daytime, and the muscle demigod was now standing on the rooftop of a building. The edges of the rooftop were fenced off; the reasons as to why seemed obvious. Marvelous Man then spotted pink cherry blossom petals drifting in front of them as well as its sweet scent. Turning around, he spotted the origin. A plot of dirt was somehow established in the center of the rooftop with a gigantic cherry blossom tree sprouting out of it. It casted a shade nearly big enough to encompass the whole rooftop. Beneath the tree was a small wooden bench; big enough to only seat two people. The scenery reminded the hulking bodybuilder of scenes from dating sim games and romance animes. Marvelous Man heard the sound of a squeaky door and turned his head to see a rooftop access door stationed further behind the tree at the other end of the roof. The opening door revealed Gene, as the Totochtin prince stepped through. Gene carried his usual calm smile, but his eyes betrayed it with unease. Marvelous Man waved, “Hey, Gene. This is...nice.” “Yes, it is,” replied Gene, “Like your people’s saying, I have taken a page out of the book. I have researched from the outsider media that when one wishes to confess their true feelings that could mend or break the heart, one must do it on top of the high school building. Also, the cherry blossom petals must be involved. Unfortunately, I do not have the time to request access to any of the high school's rooftop. So I borrowed this setting from the co-worker that likes to do the roleplaying in here.” “Uh-huh…” said Marvelous Man. Gene motioned to the bench, “Please, let us do the sitting.” The muscle demigod nodded and followed his friend back to the bench beneath the cherry blossom tree. His heart thumped with excitement, as he had seen enough anime to know where this going. The wooden bench gave a slight groan, as the hulking bodybuilder tried to gently adjust himself to the seat. With the bench being of a small size, Marvelous Man was in close proximity of Gene with their knees touching each other. His body flushed with intense body heat. The musclebound superhero felt like he had turned into a human furnace; not even the breezing winds helped cool him. Gene stared out at the expanse beyond the rooftop’s fence. His lips curled slightly inwards; the bottom of it being bitten. Seconds passed by, while Gene appeared to be lost in thought. “...I wanted to talk about the last night…” he spoke. Marvelous Man looked down at Gene, “What about last night?” “The last night...in your exhaustion, you said something very profounding. I realize now that you have none of the recollection due to the fatigue, but you meant every word,” explained Gene. Marvelous Man hesitated “Oh...uhhh, wh-...what did I say?” “You told me that you loved me,” answered Gene. The hulking bodybuilder’s eyes bulged, “Oh…” Marvelous Man’s thoughts were screaming into an invisible void. Howling at how he could have done such a thing. He could not remember saying that and felt embarrassed due to it. His large hands gripped the edge of the bench; fighting the urge to run or fly away. He then saw Gene turning to look up at him. “I deeply apologize! I do not mean to cause you any of the embarrassment,” said Gene, “I honestly enjoyed you saying that. My people have said that same thing to me, but...the intensity of the emotions in your words were far greater than any Totochtin ever uttering it.” The Totochtin prince continued, “It was like the many lovers in the outside world. I have sampled it before and found it rather cute. But to be given that emotion directly...it was scary. I never had any of the troubles of trying to recreate the same emotions I feel from others in order to bond well with them.” Gene stood up before stepping in front of Marvelous Man. The bunny demigod kneeled down on knee, as he slowly reached out. Gently grabbing the hulking bodybuilder’s hand, he held it out between themselves. “I am sorry, Marvelous Man. But I cannot love you the same way you love me,” he said. Marvelous Man blinked, “...Huh? Wh-what?” “I...I tried to say it back to you last night. That I loved you...but I could not. I was unable to match the same level of the magnitude that you did with the sharing of your true emotions,” explained Gene. He continued, “We must stop the dating. I realize now that I was treating your feelings like a game and was doing the ‘leading you on’. You saw the dates as more than just a fun activity. They were the bonding exercise that had the hopes of eventually causing me to see you the same way you see me. And perhaps...there were times when it came to the close of that. But it was never enough. My ideals of love. My culture kept me from aligning to the same level of how you feel about me.” This was not what Marvelous Man wanted. Gene was supposed to love him back! Then they would become lovers and have a happily ever after. He needed to save this. It was all he had left! “Th-then! We, uh, we should keep dating! Maybe, m-maybe…” stammered Marvelous Man. Gene shook his head, “It would not be right to you nor me. Perhaps if we kept doing the dating it could turn out exactly how you wanted. But such a thing would only result in hurting us in the end. That is the time that is wasted for trying to grow something that cannot grow. I am sorry Marvelous Man, but I cannot force myself to be the something that I am not.” Marvelous Man froze. The last part of what the Totochtin prince said had shaken a recent memory back into focus. He had said something similar to his mother; causing the goddess of love to question him what was the difference with what he was doing in the real world. ...Was he no different than his parents? Trying to contain a person they loved and assuming everything else will fall into place in exactly how they wished? He had experienced the receiving end of that thinking first hand, and he hated it. Treated as an object with no will of his own. He was no toy. And just because someone loved him gave them no right to tell him how to act, feel, or was entitled to only them...and neither was Gene. “Holy shit...I think I get it now…” realized Marvelous Man. Gene’s face flexed in confusion, “What?” Marvelous Man cupped his other hand around Gene’s. His mind flashed back to all the dates and interactions with the rabbit demigod. It was so obvious now! Was he just stupid or willfully ignorant of all the signs of their compatibility? Gemini pointed it all out, but he had refused to connect the dots...It appeared he was both. “I’m...I’m sorry too, Gene. I should’ve known better. You’re right. We’re great friends, but...we’re just not meant for each other. We’re too different in a lot of ways with almost nothing we can be on the same level with. Being able to empathize your loneliness shouldn’t be the only thing we have in common. It shouldn’t even be the only similarity we share! And you weren’t forcing yourself to be something you’re not…I was. You were one of the few good things that happened to me since I got here, and I thought we were sorta meant to be since you were the first guy I felt attracted to. And I guess deep down, I was also afraid of losing you,” he admitted. Gene stood up, “Marvelous Man...you will never lose me. You are the kindest outside man I know. I may have been the frustrated that we never had sex, but I treasured more that you wished to understand me.” Bending down, the Totochtin prince kissed Marvelous Man’s head. Tears began streaming down his cheeks, as he closed his eyes. “I may not be able to love you, but you will always be my favorite,” said Gene. Marvelous Man felt tears welling up in his eyes, as he felt a flood of sadness drowning his heart. He looked up to see his friend crying. The muscle demigod’s eyebrows flexed in confusion. He smiled, “Why are you crying? It should be me that’s crying.” “Because I could not make you the happy, Marvelous Man. I failed. Everyone else I have ever tried to befriend, I could easily make them the happy by feeling their emotions. But I failed you. You are my first. And I had none of the other choices but to reject you for your own happiness. I’m sorry,” sobbed Gene. Marvelous Man stood up and hugged Gene, “Don’t be. It hurts a bit that we can’t love each other like lovers, but we can still love each other as friends. Being your partner and being part of your life. That’s enough for me to be happy with you. It’s scary, but...I think I’ll eventually find someone. Someone that I could love, and they’d love me back. Someone I can be honest with...and even tell them my real name.” “Marvelous Man is not your real name?” sniffed Gene. The musclebound superhero sighed, “No. It’s not. It was a real Dickasaurus Rex thing for me to do...I was kinda afraid you wouldn’t like the real me. Marvelous Man is more interesting. Less emotionally unstable...And he wouldn’t have run away if you actually said that you loved me back.” “It is the shameful that I could not meet the real you. It could have been the fun. But..I am sure someone else loves the real you,” said Gene. Marvelous Man dryly swallowed, “There was someone...but I burned that bridge with him. He was being an asshole, but...I’m guilty of also leading him on. I don’t think we could even be friends again after I yelled at him and broke his heart.” Gene hugged back. The muscle demigod no longer felt Gene’s sadness. He instead felt a comforting love; a love that is felt between family and friends. “I am sure he wants to be the friends with you. And it might be the hard, but you must try to take the first step and forgive him. It is alright if you do not wish to do it now. But you cannot wait forever. Time can heal the wounds, but you must make the effort to bandage it up,” consoled the bunny demigod. Marvelous Man sobbed, “Thanks, Gene.” The two embraced each other for an unknowable amount of time. It had felt like eternity beneath the forever-blooming cherry blossom tree, as the two bathed in each others' emotions. Sharing love. Next Chapter
  12. This is inspired by a story I'd read a while back. Unfortunately I forgot the name! If you all like it, there's more to come. This is mostly setup right now, but there's plenty of hot stuff to come. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Darkness. The black void was everything, and then it wasn’t. Half-open eyes blinked a blurry world to life. The sunlight danced through the cracks in the blinds covering a window at the back of the room. The slivers of light highlighted the absolutely average body of Jeremy. A slight layer of fat was somewhat noticeable on his body, but it wasn’t unattractive. One wouldn’t really say it was attractive either – he was an average-looking college student. The light accentuated his perhaps larger-than-average bulge that filled his tight white Calvins. A trail of dark hair dusted the path from his crotch to his belly button, but he was hairless elsewhere. He was a pretty fashionable man, after all. The sunbeams crossed his eyes. His hand lazily searched for his glasses on the small table to the right of his bed. As the lenses crossed his field of vision, Jeremy’s dorm room came into focus. His eyes fell upon the body of his roommate and best friend, Sebastian. Sebastian was of true Spanish descent – his smooth olive complexion highlighted some of his distinctly European features. Jeremy felt the usual pang of slight jealousy; Sebastian, while not a model by any means, was quite beautiful, and hardly worked at all to attain his beauty. Jeremy sighed as the feeling that he’d been dealt a bad deck washed over him. It passed, like most things do, and Jeremy let a smile creep onto his face. He and Sebs had known each other for years, they’d been best friends in high school and had kept their connection strong as they headed into college together. They had been through so much together, and knew so much about each other. Sebastian was one of the few reasons Jeremy really felt like he was worth anything to anyone. “Hey Sebs, it’s time to get up. We’re gonna be late.” Jeremy spoke softly (Sebastian was a monster to wake up) and Sebs responded by turning over and putting a pillow over his head. Jeremy was greeted by Sebastian’s lean muscular back and firm ass. He was, admittedly, a little jealous. “Your loss then, bud. I’ll give you my notes if you want them.” Sebastian mumbled again, and sank a little bit deeper into his bed. Jeremy and Sebs had one class together, and it was Anthropology. Dr. Knight was known around their school for being wildly eccentric, and while that was true, he was also incredibly passionate. There was something about the professor that was alluring to Jeremy, and he revered Dr. Knight. His Anthropology studies were also a reason Jeremy kept on keeping on. There was something almost magical and enticing about learning about the cultures and ideas of the past. After all, it’s the compounding and synthesizing of all of those old stories and ideas that had gotten human society to where it was today, and studying the thoughts of the past often revealed the failures of the present. Humans could be incredibly prescient. Today the class was supposed to study some of the ancient artifacts that Dr. Knight had collected over the years, and while it was mostly trivial stuff to Sebs, Jeremy was addicted to the craftsmanship of the old jewelry and the urns and the ancient writing and… it all stoked a little fire in his brain. Throwing on a faded tie-dye shirt and a pair of well-fit jeans, Jeremy left his room, ran down the few flights of stairs to the first floor of the building. He grabbed a banana and some yogurt from the dining hall, and then began a brisk walk across campus to the Humanities building. He passed a couple of people that he recognized, but he didn’t receive any kind of greeting. If any of them recognized him, they didn’t care enough to acknowledge his presence. Jeremy was used to it, such was the nature of his life. Walking into the lecture hall, he noticed some of the archaic objects that Dr. Knight was to talk about during class. As was his routine, Jeremy made his way to the front of the room. In front of him on a table was a quite well-preserved urn, not unlike the one that John Keats might have described in his poetry. The images of the men of the old days were engraved all around the thing, crafting some sort of intricate tale. What that tale was, Jeremy wasn’t sure, but it was enticing and exciting for him. Jeremy found himself staring at the urn, despite it being beside a collection of old jewelry and a strange tablet with words written in some language he couldn’t read. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Jeremy looked up to the hardened old face of Dr. Knight. He’d been staring for far too long. “Yeah. I mean, it’s really cool.” Jeremy always felt somewhat nervous when talking to the professor. Dr. Knight was an old man, probably in his 70s at this point, but he would never reveal his age. He kept his snow-white beard well groomed. He gave off a unique vibration – cool, collected, incredibly informed, never condescending. Jeremy looked up to the man. “I don’t really understand the story it’s trying to tell, but I’m sure you’ll tell us.” Dr. Knight narrowed his eyes. His words were filled with the confidence deriving from his knowledge. “It’s not really that clear cut, I’m afraid.” Jeremy was confused, but such a mystery piqued his interest. “What do you mean by that professor?” “They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This urn appears slightly differently to everyone who looks at it. It’s difficult to understand, but the simplest way I can put it is this: everybody perceives color in a slightly different manner. The urn was crafted to play to that, so the art that you see is unique to the people who see the way that you do.” Jeremy just looked at his professor. He didn’t quite grasp the explanation offered by Dr. Knight, but it seemed cool. Jeremy’s curiosity overcame him. “What do you see, professor?” Dr. Knight seemed to pause for a moment. “Let’s talk after class, Jeremy.” Temporarily contented by that answer, Jeremy sank back into his seat. He was full of anticipation now, he wanted to learn more about this peculiar urn. He devoured every word of the lecture, his gel pen fanatically scratching at the surface of his notebook,” the ink becoming Jeremy’s knowledge, a permanent record of a past that has long since been gone. The tablet he had seen before was written in Sanskrit, Dr. Knight explained. It was a slab of clay that had been engraved by a Mesopotamian artisan, it was some sort of religious text. The jewelry was odd-looking and far too large. The fashion trends of the ancients were perhaps not too practical. Dr. Knight reminded the students that the jewelry was really reserved as a marker of status, and that people did not wear them outside of special gatherings and other such auspicious occasions. Finally, Jeremy thought, the professor began to describe the urn. It was discovered somewhere in Northern Africa, by Dr. Knight himself. He had brought it to many of his peers, and many explanations for the strange transient quality of the artwork had been proposed. Dr. Knight explained some of them, though he did not sound as though he had fully subscribed to any one school of thought. “As ridiculous as it seems,” he said, “it almost seems to be like some sort of magic, though we know that that isn’t possible.” They screened the urn for signs of radioactivity, anything that might elucidate what it could be. Nothing. “What we do know is that it is generally revered by those who get to see it. Please, take a look, stay after class, whatever you’d like. I really think that this piece is something inimitable – we will not find anything of its kind for a long while.” With that, the lecture was over. Despite the professor’s invitation, the room cleared out very quickly. College students had many more important things to attend to than stare at some old pot – like smoking some pot of their own. Jeremy, of course, stayed. Jeremy approached the urn, getting a closer look at the intricate design for the first time. There was nothing shifty about what he was looking at; the design was undoubtedly there. It featured engravings of what appeared to be a man– “Well?” Dr. Knight interrupted Jeremy’s thoughts. “I mean it’s really something. I see a man.” “Ah, as do I. Tell me more, describe what you see.” Jeremy began to slowly circle around the urn, following the little black engraving. “I see a man. And he’s climbing up something… it might be a mountain but it could also be a monster of some kind—I’m not sure.” As Jeremy looked closer and closer, the detail of the art was seriously astonishing. While it was definitely not realistic, the style was not intending to be. It seemed very peaceful yet also very realized, very deep. “And he’s reached the other side of that monster—I think it was a monster—and there’s more of him on the other side. He’s drawn prouder almost? And it’s almost like there’s something inside of him glowing…” Jeremy inspected the man closer, and realized that it really looked like this man was glowing. Okay actually, the man was definitely glowing. “What the fuck?!” Jeremy caught the professor’s attention. “I can’t see whatever it is your seeing. Describe it to me! Please, Jeremy.” “The man is fucking glowing. There is fucking light coming out of the pot. Is this thing plugged in? What the hell?” Dr. Knight looked at Jeremy. “I had suspected that this urn was capable of more than meets the eye but I’d never have expected this!” Jeremy, all the while, was drawn into the urn. To the stunning imagery, the vast expanse of the inside. He reached out, slowly extending a nervous and excited pair of hands towards the urn. His hands seemed to magnetize to the sides. “Holy shit professor! It’s pulling me in!” Jeremy’s body was being pulled toward the urn. The glow from the man began to fill the entire surface of the urn. The golden light coiled along the sides of the urn, filling the cracks and pulsing, almost as though it were connected to a heart. The inside of the urn began to glow. Dr. Knight could see that. “What a strange phenomenon! Jeremy, whatever you’re doing, do not stop!” “Oh I don’t intend to.” Whatever the energy was that resonated within the pot, it was pulling on Jeremy, tugging at his heart, his stomach, his essence. He slowly walked even closer to the urn, peering into the dark expanse within. He watched the pulsating golden light become brighter, bolder. He saw tendrils of light begin to escape the pot. They began to snake down his figure. “Professor… what is this?! I’m gonna die! No wait, this feels okay… actually, this feels great!” Dr. Knight watched with utter delight. “This is incredible! Unparalleled!” The tendrils of light swirled down Jeremy’s form, coalescing upon his left hand. The light spun its way around his fingers, one at a time, almost as though it were giving them some kind of strange blessing. It felt good. He felt like he was being filled with some otherworldly energy, some newfound power. The light focused on his ring finger, becoming blindingly bright. Dr. Knight looked away, shielding his eyes from the light that flooded the room. Jeremy felt his heart pounding as it never had before, in anticipation and filled with some new sense of power. The light became even brighter, until it seemed as though the room was just an empty void of white, and then it faded into nothingness. The urn was no longer glowing. Jeremy took a look at his hand, where the light had attacked him. On his ring finger, Jeremy saw a small black ring. He took it off. Examining the inside, he read, YOU HAVE UNLIMITED POTENTIAL. Jeremy had no idea what it meant. He had no idea what any of this was. It didn’t make any fucking sense to him. He needed to take a cold shower. This was all way too much. He grabbed the ring and thrusted it towards his professor. Dr. Knight looked at him, and then looked at the ring. “Keep it. Clearly it was brought out by you.” Jeremy didn’t quite have language inside of him at this moment. He just looked at the professor, gave him a false smile, and then turned and bolted out of the lecture hall. Jeremy nearly sprinted the entire 20 minute walk back to his dorm. He didn’t feel tired – it seemed as though it was the fastest he’d ever run. He wasn’t paying much attention to his physical self though. Jeremy’s mind was spinning, he was dizzied by the abnormality of it all. He didn’t believe it. He didn’t believe what he’d just seen. But walking up the steps to the front of the dorm building, Jeremy looked down at his left hand, thinking about the little black ring in his fist. That had all just happened. He needed privacy. When he got back to his room, Jeremy was relieved to see that it was empty. He opened his hand, the hand that he’d kept closed the entire way home. The letters on the ring were glowing. “You have unlimited potential… what does that mean?” Jeremy held up the ring to his face, examining its surface closely. It was mostly smooth, made of some strong metal, though exactly which metal he didn’t know. On the inside, the words were engraved in delicate but strong letters. They glowed a faint gold now, similar to that glow that the urn had radiated with. Jeremy thought about it for a moment, and then slipped the ring onto his left ring finger. Immediately, he felt different. Jeremy felt empowered. “This is fucking wild.” The ring looked pretty nice on Jeremy, too. He had never been a jewelry guy, maybe wearing the occasional necklace here and there, but this little black ring looked great on his finger. He went to the bathroom in his dorm, and looked at the ring in the mirror. Suddenly he felt a surge of something. The glowing got brighter, and then the ring tightened. “What the…” Jeremy was, of course, a little bit nervous. He tried to pull the ring off, but to no avail. It seemed to have bonded itself to him. “What are you?” Funny you should ask that. Jeremy heard a female voice, and he collapsed to the floor in shock. No, no… don’t worry. It’s me! Your ring. Or rather, I am the power of the ring. Jeremy had no fucking idea what was going on. He thought he was on some next-level drugs. Maybe he’d accidentally used some of Sebs’ mushroom honey instead of regular honey. But the ring felt… well, it felt real. Jeremy looked at the ring. Maybe he could ask it some questions? If it could communicate? No, fuck no, he was being ridiculous. Rings can’t talk, much less think. He was on drugs. You’re not on drugs, Jeremy. Take a deep breath. This is all real. And this ring could read his mind. Maybe he was schizophrenic. Maybe this was the first day he’d realize that he had a disorder. His brain was fucked up. He wouldn’t have doubted it after all the pot he’d smoked. Pot would never do this to your brain, Jeremy. Alright, he was going crazy. It was official. Let me show you what I can do. Look at yourself in the mirror. Jeremy did so. He thought that you weren’t supposed to listen to the voices when you had schizophrenia, but he figured it wouldn’t kill him. He didn’t really know what was going on anyways. Close your eyes. Visualize your perfect self. That was a strange request – not that Jeremy hadn’t imagined the perfect version of himself before… it just seemed strange to take orders from a female voice in his head. Just try it, Jeremy. You’ve got nothing to lose. She was right. He didn’t. Besides perhaps his sanity. Jeremy closed his eyes. Immediately, a different Jeremy began to pilot his brain. This one was one that had fantasized extensively. Jeremy imagined himself taller. Something like 6’5”, a height that would tower over his now 5’7” self. He imagined himself without his fat, he imagined a toned body. A muscular body. Open your eyes. Jeremy opened his eyes. What he saw made him aroused, excited, and also freaked out. He was growing. His body was stretching taller. Inch by inch, his legs got longer, his torso got bigger. The small layer of pudge around his midsection melted away revealing a surprisingly nice set of 4-pack abs. Jeremy began to understand what the ring could do, although he did not quite believe it. Play with it Jeremy. You know you want to. Jeremy looked at himself in the mirror. He had always wanted to be able to make himself the most attractive man in the world. It was a fantasy of his, to look better than all of the beautiful male models that he lusted after. The men with the muscular bodies, the men with lean bodies, defined bodies – like Sebs’ body. Jeremy thought of Sebs’ gifted figure. He could be so much more beautiful than Sebs. Jeremy could be anything that he wanted to be. Now that’s the kind of thinking I like. Remember what’s written. “I have unlimited potential.” The now tall and lean Jeremy smiled at himself in the mirror. He looked at his body. He imagined his body with 50 more pounds of muscle. He imagined himself at 180 lbs of ripped muscle. Instantly he felt his body heat up. His muscles almost seem to spasm, twitching and pulsing uncontrollably. It was euphoric. Jeremy felt himself growing bigger, and he peeled his shirt off of his growing body. He watched his neck become thick, his traps become corded with muscles. He wanted more than 180 lbs. How about 240 lbs? That would be good. He could still fit in somewhat well, though he would be unbelievably muscular and unbelievably handsome. Jeremy was going to be so much more than average. His waist tightened to a tiny 27 inches, and his back exploded in size. His pecs inflated as though they were balloons, jutting out of his chest with their dense and thick composition. His arms got bigger too, his shoulders expanding slowly into two boulders that would frame the rest of his body. His biceps swelled to at least 23 inches, and his forearms became thick with muscle. The growth hadn’t stopped in his upper body either. Jeremy’s jeans were becoming constricting to his now massive legs and calves. With a tiny flex of his godly ass, Jeremy pulverized his jeans. He liked the power his muscles brought him. The strength turned him on. Unlimited potential, Jeremy. You can change anything about anyone. With his suspicions confirmed, Jeremy willed himself to become stronger. His muscles became fuller, and his body almost glowed. He flexed his arm into the mirror hard, and his bicep sent out a shockwave. He smiled. He was infatuated by the power. He could have more if he wanted to, and he would, but he could wait just a little bit. It seemed as though he owed it to himself to have some fun with the ring. He looked at the small bulge in his briefs. He willed it to be bigger. Massive, but manageable. A foot long – erect, of course. His dick swelled in size, pulsing and becoming hard because of the pleasure that Jeremy felt thanks to the growth. He began to stroke his thick dick. He found it so hot. He imagined something he’d imagined before – every time he stroked his dick, he grew just a little bit bigger. His dick got a little bigger, and he grew just a little bit more muscle. This time, though, as he imagined it, it happened. The ring began to glow in gold as he stroked his dick, and his muscles expanded ever slightly, his cock becoming just a little longer. It sent Jeremy over the edge. He came all over his bathroom mirror. He flexed a little into the mirror, admiring his perfect form and figure. He was unstoppable now. And then Jeremy heard the door of his dorm open. Sebs had returned. Jeremy looked at himself in the mirror, looked at his dick, and smiled a cunning smile.
  13. Preface Dear muscledrain, You wanted a magic switch of brains and brawn. I could have chosen to make the protagonist a black-metal kid called Moonsorrow Bloodpain, who invoked Cthulhu,* or something similar, to facilitate the magic, but then both himself and his recently muscular friend would eventually have been eaten by unnamable and eldritch primordial spacegods* of the elder days, and – as I understood your story idea – you expected something slightly more feelgood than that. But which sort of magic would be feelgood? Classical gods from Greece and Rome transforming mortal men is a story idea already used several times over at Metabods (Dionysus and Mars, if I remember correctly), so that idea was already taken. It then struck me, that some people out there IRL believe in a sort of magic Moonsorrow Bloodpain definitely would shun: Hoodoo – which is a mix of native Congolese religion, Protestantism, Dutch folklore, Catholicism (since the 1960’s) and slight traces of renaissance esotericism. It would probably be feelgood enough. But then another dilemma emerged: Which red-blooded, sports obsessed young male in a predominantly Agnostic environment would get the idea to even ask an eccentric and mysterious hoodoo lady for help? I then realised that bodybuilding and martial arts are very popular among young Syriac men, and that they – however laddish they are indeed – often have an honest respect for the saints. I have also observed that a lot of MMA fighters like to wear rosaries. Some of my former neighbours are Syriacs – very nice and friendly people with a flair for making good food. This is the way one of the protagonists was invented. I want to thank sithspawn, CardiMuscleman, mrk78, yourself, and some others for very valuable linguistic and stylistic advice. To write in a foreign language is full of potential errors. Any remaining errors are my own fault. Just as Northern Americans (and I don’t mean Canadians and Bahamians at the moment) let their Muscle Growth Stories take place in the US (or in a fictitious country identical to the US when it comes to educational system and cultural patterns, such as sports scholarships, pompoms, American football and resident colleges), I will, as a Swede, let the following story occur in a fictitious country with an educational system and cultural patterns indistinguishable from the Swedish ones: an academic year consisting of two semesters (not three terms), no school uniforms, pupils/students living at home with their parents at least until the age of 19, mixed social backgrounds at many (but not all) schools, and Agnostics observing Christian holidays. The difference between working class and middle class is probably more subtle and fluid over here than in other parts of the world – at least that was my impression on vacation in UK and Italy. The city in the story is, however, a city that never was. It will be futile, if any other Scandinavians reading this will try to figure out exactly where the story takes place: Everywhere and nowhere. The spelling of surnames have been anglicised. That wasn’t, however, necessary with the first names, which could pass for many nationalities just as they are. Comics readers: Look out for the easter egg. I hope you will have fun! Addenda * Long after writing this introduction, I actually wrote a horror story about Lovecraftesque forgotten eldritch primordial spacegods, called Professor Schnackenburg's mistake. With a little help from magic Chapter One The cold wind pushed the red and yellow leaves over the schoolyard with a rustling sound. The sky was steel-grey and unforgiving. Inside the brick-building housing the sixth-form school, lockers were clattering, and the sound of many voices blended into a tiresome murmur. Feet swiftly hurried to lecture rooms. John had put his rucksack in his locker, and was taking his chemistry book out, when he heard a disturbingly familiar voice behind him: ’Isn’t it Swotter? Oi! Swotter, I’m speaking to you!’ The eighteen-year-old closed the locker, and tried to look in another direction. Sometimes it worked. ’Look at me, when I’m talking to you!’ A hand on his shoulder. A foot behind his heel. Suddenly, John found himself on the floor and the chemistry book a few metres to the left, between another row of lockers. It was Peter and his friends. As usual. Peter and his little crowd of followers had made primary school, secondary school and the initial two years of sixth form a living hell for John, and there was no sign that anything would change, until John left for university in another city and Peter’s gang left school, most likely in order to face unemployment. Peter put his black cowboy boot on John’s chest. Like his chums, Peter had enthusiastically embraced the 50’s revival when it became fashionable, and they all tried really hard to look like exaggerated stereotypes of 50’s rockers. Most of them wore black leather jackets, unbleached denim jeans, and white T-shirts or plaid shirts, and they had put some gunk in their hair and combed it in a 1950’s style. Unlike some of his friends, Peter hadn’t been able to afford a leather jacket, so he wore a cheap denim jacket instead, and had sewn a Confederate flag on it, in the belief that ’that was very rock’n’roll’. ’Is that an army jersey, Swotter? Considering joining the forces?’ John felt embarrassed. If he kept silent, it would just go on. If he answered, the result would be identical. ’It is a hunter’s jersey.’ ’We didn’t know you were hunting! Did we, lads?’ ’I don’t, but I take photographs of rare birds. The jersey protects from cold weather.’ ’Scared of blood, I see. It wouldn’t be a good idea to join the army then? Would it, Swotter?’ ’I said it isn’t an army jersey. Ouch!’ Peter had moved his boot to John’s Adam’s apple. ’Listen very carefully. If I were you, I wouldn’t insult our brave boys in green by wearing that jersey, whatever you call it. Now take it off!’ ’But… Ouch!’ Peter increased the pressure on John’s Adam’s apple, then removed his foot, and came closer to John, sitting in a squatting position. Peter grabbed John’s jersey, and minuscule stains of spit rained on John’s face when Peter shouted. ’Now, you little pansy, you take that jersey off – either putting it in the cafeteria dust-bin or giving it to Anderson here. He deserves it better than you. Isn’t that right Anderson?’ Anderson, a blond football player, about the same height as John, but considerably more athletic, had been a henchman of Peter for years. He had a smug grin on his face. ’And what do you think you are doing, you friggin’ racist?’ Peter and his friends had to turn around. John rose from the floor, dusted away spots of sand from his clothes, and looked for his chemistry book. The newcomer who had spoken was Simon, the tall leftie intellectual from the other science class. Peter leered at him. It seemed that he had met Simon before. ’Don’t meddle, Simon. This isn’t your concern.’ ’Sure it is. Yesterday, you and your gang bullied Aram’s little brother and neighbour. But after what I can see today, you like to bully anyone, regardless of origin. Ridiculous greasers!’ John adjusted his eyeglasses, and now saw that Simon wasn’t alone. He had brought Aram, the brawny Syriac hockey guy, and Carl, the anti-racist skinhead, with him. Although Peter and his friends outnumbered Simon and his friends with five to three, Peter sized up his opponents a few seconds. Although not very muscular (but rather on the slim side), Simon was tall, and it was well-known at the school that he had practiced kung-fu, before his deep commitment in the Anarchist Student Society, Amnesty International, the local melocore club (and a handful of other associations) had limited the time available on exercise. Two years ago, Simon and John had served together in the Student Council, and John had appreciated Simon’s wit. Carl was shorter than Simon, but taller than Aram. He spent some time at the gym, but not as strictly and devotedly as Aram obviously did. His shaved head gave him an aggressive demeanour, and that impression was enhanced by the gauge in his earlobe, his snug fitting maroon polo shirt, the blue braces that contrasted well against the maroon background, the bleached jeans, and the extremely well-polished, heavy and steel-capped boots on his feet. His black Alpha bomber jacket was covered with patches and pins: ’Skinheads Against Racial Prejudice’, ’The Oppressed’, ’The Burial’, ’Operation Ivy’, ’FC St. Pauli’. He oozed of angry adolescent masculinity. Aram was of average height, but more broad-shouldered than any of the young men. He had an innately muscular constitution, and had been in good shape already during his time in the hockey team. When he left secondary school, and began his sixth form education, he had left the hockey team in order to take up martial arts of some sort, and also joined a gym. He now looked like a bodybuilder without any body fat, and moved like a tiger: A very broad shouldered tiger. During their entire time at school, Aram had always been so absorbed by exercise, that he never noticed if bullying occurred somewhere around him. If Aram had begun to spend time with a decent guy like Simon, it was probably a step in the right direction. After eyeing his opponents, Peter ordered his crowd to leave. ’Everything alright now?’, Simon asked. ’Yes. Thank you for helping me.’ ’To be honest, it was just a coincidence, but I am glad that we could be of assistance. Aram here is beginning to develop a social conscience by hanging with me and Carl, aren’t you?’ Aram mumbled something, and looked down into the floor. ’I’m late to the student newspaper meeting. Later.’ Simon disappeared around a corner. Carl had to leave his bomber jacket in his locker, and was on his way to a math lesson, but Aram was scheduled for the same chemistry class as John. They were late. ’You both know that late arrival will affect your grades. It will perhaps not concern you very much, John, but in your case, Aram, I would be worried.’ It was Mr. Gustavson, the chemistry teacher, known for his sardonic personality, and secretly nicknamed ’Snape’ among the students. ’As I said before you arrived, you have to team up in pairs and study how a primitive form of plastic is produced. It is a very simple example of how polymers behave.’ ’It seems like we have to lab together, today’, John said shyly. Aram didn’t speak very much while he assisted John, but, despite their late arrival, they were the first among the students to achieve a nice cylinder of plastic in a test tube in the end of the lesson. That gave Aram an idea. * * * It had been a few days earlier, during the Sunday church lunch at the Orthodox church of St. James’. ’Ameen. Moryo nqabel qurbonokh, wlan n’adar bashlawothokh.’ The last prayer in the extremely ancient Aramaic-speaking Christian liturgy ended, and the congregation left the room, kissing the Gospel Book at the entrance, and receiving pieces of non-consecrated bread. There were old ladies in mantillas, old men in their three-piece Sunday best, lots of parents with children, a dark-eyed and doe-eyed girl’s choir in choir dress, and a bunch of young men slightly younger or older than Aram. The last group was the most noisy one, and the lads were joking and playing with each other. Most of them wore jeans, expensive jerseys and shirts, but a few of the oldest ones wore suits, and some of the younger ones were dressed in tracksuit pants and hoodies. Most of them were dark haired and wore a lot of hair gel, but some were buzzcut, and two of them were redheaded. Many of them wore sturdy golden chains around their necks, from which crucifixes or the Syriac nationalist symbol of a feathered archer hang. Some of the attendees immediately left the parking lot, but most stayed inside for the Sunday church lunch. A buffet was prepared: Bulgur mixed with roasted noodles, tabbouleh – a salad of parsley, couscous, tomatoes, onions, garlic, mint leaves, lemon and olive oil – and several smaller bowls filled with falafel, dolma, chickpea sauce and eggplant sauce. Aram sat down with his mother, his uncle and his aunt. His mother was putting her folded mantilla in her purse, now when she no longer stood inside the consecrated room. ’Listen Aram’, uncle Benjamin began, ’there is a thing your mother and I have been talking about.’ Uh, uh. Now it comes again. Aram felt tired of this. His uncle meant well, but it felt like he was picking on him. ’Before your father died, I promised him, that I would help you become a doctor, just like your father and your grandfather. We have talked about this before: You have to achieve better grades, otherwise you will not be able to study medicine.’ A steel grey lady in her sixties approached the table. Mother and aunt Layla rose, gathered around her, and began to discuss with her in the old language. Aram wasn’t good at the old language. He was born in the new country, and spoke its language without any accent. ’Your mother and I are worried about you. The medical trade is a family tradition, but your grades have not been good the last years.’ ’But you are not a doctor. You own a grocery shop.’ ’This discussion is not about me, young man, but about you. If you begin medical studies, I promise to help you financially, but if you don’t, you can’t expect any money from me for university.’ * * * It was a day later. Aram and his girlfriend Emma entered the room for the history lesson. ’Hi, Emelie!’, Emma shouted, and claimed a chair close to her friend Emelie. Emma and Emelie didn’t at all have the same preferences when it came to style, but were friends anyhow. Emma was a blonde young woman with black high rise slim fit jeans and a yellow top which revealed some of her cleavage. Her shoes were yellow Converse. Emelie, on the other side, had dyed her hair black, and wore a black dress with a lot of lace. Around Emelie’s neck hang several pendants of different sorts: A cross, a star of David and a pentagram. She didn’t discriminate between religions, but it was also possible that she didn’t care very much for what the symbols signified to other people. Aram looked around, and when he found that the chair close to John was empty, he sat down beside John. ’Hello again. Do you mind if i sit here?’ They both unpacked their laptops, and had to end their chat, since their history teacher, Mr. Johanson, had begun to talk. Mr. Johanson was one of the oldest teachers at the school, and didn’t have many years left until retirement. He always wore black jeans, a sleeveless pullover and a tweed jacket. Unlike the younger male teachers, who dressed less strictly, he always had a tie knit around his neck. His hair was white and slightly receding. ’The world events of the 20th century, would probably had been very different, if World War One hadn’t occurred. The stern conditions of the peace treaty of 1919, caused many Germans and Austrians to feel disproportionally and unjustly punished, and that prepared the way for Hitler and the Second World War. For the British Empire, the end of the war initiated the slow devolvement of the empire: The Irish Free State was declared in 1922, and in 1931 dominions – such as Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Newfoundland, South Africa and the Irish Free State – were defined as ’completely self-governing’. Some sorts of constitutional reforms would probably have occurred in Russia anyhow, but not necessarily in the revolutionary Bolshevik way it now did: Don’t forget that the February Revolution in 1917 was about limiting the power of the Czar constitutionally, and preparing the way for free elections, general suffrage and civil liberties. The Bolsheviks didn’t grab the political power until October, and would probably not have reached the necessary level of initial popular support, if the Russian people hadn’t been exhausted by three years of warfare. The war also caused USA to change the way it behaved in international politics. During the 19th century the Monroe doctrine had isolated the US from international politics, but – with the exception of the Philippine-American War about a decade before World War One – the US had until then avoided entanglement in any conflict far beyond its own borders. From a certain point of view, the Philippine-American War and World War One, became templates for what later happened in Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. The history of the 20th century is impossible to understand without World War One as the background. When we now begin to look closer…’ John felt good sitting so close to the big and warm lump of muscles. John hadn’t thought much about it before, but became now aware of the warm brown colour of Aram’s eyes, like brown gemstones reflecting a golden light. Aram emitted a nice scent of some sort of anti-perspirant, but probably not an expensive one. The presence of Aram made him feel comforted and protected. Aram had never or seldom preferred to sit beside John before, so this was something new. The lesson had ended. ’John, you are really smart. Would you possibly help me with homework? I want to get better test results, and who better than you?’ ’We could have begun this years ago, if you just had asked. Which day would be best for you? I often go by bus to Willow Lake in Thursdays. Wildlife photography, you know. And I suppose you exercise very often. Which day would be best for you?’ They agreed to keep Tuesdays open for study together. Emma approached them. ’You must hear this, Aram! Emelie has found such a cute shop with books and magic candles and stuff, and I could probably have my horoscope done. Isn’t it amazing? You must follow me and Emelie to that shop after school!’ * * * The following afternoon, Emelie, Emma and Aram got on the tram, and went to a picturesque part of the city Aram seldom visited. They left the tram at a stop just outside a Neo-gothic church building called Holy Trinity, and then followed a narrow and meandering, cobblestone paved alley on their way to the shop Emelie had mentioned. The houses were small and old here, but some of them seemed to have been restored recently, as an effect of ongoing gentrification. Withered roses and dark green ivy covered some of the exteriors. They passed by a tailor’s shop, a vegetarian restaurant, a dentist’s clinic and a former – now closed – bicycle workshop. A few of the buildings seemed to have been turned into homes very recently – which was easily recognised through the fresh plaster in yellow, lavender or dove blue colours, but other buildings were still shabby, some of them derelict. ’Here it is.’, Emelie announced. Aram got a first impression of the shop. He had definitely not seen it before. Grey stairs of stone led downwards to a door under street level. Two rather small shop-windows before his knees announced: Madame Cremorna. Books. Herbs. Readings. It felt a little bit spooky, but Emelie enthusiastically led them downstairs, and opened the door. A bell tinkled. The first thing that he noticed was the scent. The fragrance of many sorts of herbs and incenses mixed with each other. He felt awkward again. This wasn’t the sort of place a masculine guy like himself was expected to frequent. Wasn’t there something slightly feminine or gay about this scent? He considered to leave immediately, but that could make Emma mad at him. He didn’t want that. The second thing he noticed was the broad mix of things in the room. This was not just a book shop. The books were there, for sure – he saw a rotating stand with them: How To Earn Money By Positive Thinking. The Dolphins Speak: Telepathic Messages From Our Cousins In The Sea. The New Age Of The Flying Saucers. It could have been an ordinary New Age shop, but he could also see tin boxes with herbs, packets of soap or dry foodstuff with Spanish labels, shelves with incense sticks and small jars with the sort of incense grains he was able to recognise from church. His association to church was increased, when he found shelves carrying a large number of glass encased novena candles with stickers depicting saints. Some of them he could recognise, but, with his family background, he was more familiar with Eastern saints than Western, and the identity of some Western saints on the candles were undecipherable. The cash register stood upon a glass desk. Inside the desk he could see decks of cards in many shapes. He hadn’t seen any cards like these before. ’How do you play poker with these?’, he asked Emelie. ’They are not for poker, stupid.’, she answered, ’They are divination decks, for reading the future’. ’I am not sure I believe in that.’, Aram replied. Just now he wasn’t sure exactly what he believed. There was an eerie feeling in the shop. He wanted to get out. ’You are free to believe in anything you want. We are all responsible for how we use our freedom, and it is unwise to go against your own conscience.’ The alto voice vibrated with a rich timbre. It belonged to a woman in her early sixties. She had probably looked good during her younger days, and she obviously still cared about her appearance. Her hair was black, without any traces of silver in it yet, and she was dressed in a rust-coloured dress and a dark grey vest of wool. Around her neck hang a tin pendant depicting a very complicated geometrical pattern. In her younger days, she could have been a hippie. ’I’m sorry lady, but I can’t believe in telepathic dolphins and flying saucers.’ Aram waved in the direction of the rotating book stand. ’To be honest, I am not at all impressed by these books myself, but some of my customers ask for them, so I sell them. It pays the rent.’ There was a slight, possibly American-English, accent when she spoke, but very faint. ’So you don’t believe in the supernatural, yourself?’ ’Oh. I do! But that depends on what you call supernatural. If you mean telepathic dolphins, saucers, physical trolls or god-kings inside a hollow Earth, I do not believe in the supernatural.’ Emelie was studying the card decks inside the glass desk, but Emma stood by Aram’s side, hugging his arm. ’You are into sports, I suppose?’, the shop keeper asked him. ’Aram was a hockey player for many years.’, Emma answered proudly. ’And now I work out and practice martial arts.’, Aram continued. ’Then the psychology of sport can’t be unknown for you.’, Madame Cremorna said, ’And you surely must have experienced, how your own mind affects your physical achievements?’ ’Well. Yes. But that’s not supernatural.’ ’It is anyhow a part of scientific reality which borders to the supernatural – that is, supernatural in the sense I use the word.’ Aram was on his way to answer, but the shop keeper continued: ’And you belong perhaps to the Assyrian Church?’ Aram smiled: ’Close enough, but you were wrong there: I belong to the Syriac Orthodox Church. The Assyrians are our cousins.’ ’And you believe in God? And in angels? And in saints?’ ’Well. Yes, I do.’ ’The supernatural I believe in is about God, about angels, about saints, but also about sports psychology. It is admittedly not a complete description of what I do – far from it – but it seems like we are able to agree about a major part of it, anyhow.’ She was silent a few seconds. ’And what are you looking for? Books? Devotionals? Cards? A horoscope? Or do you want me to use magic for some purpose?’ ’We are just looking. Emelie told us about your shop, and it is just adorable’, Emma answered, ’but it looks much more Catholic than the other New Age shop on the other side the canal.’ Madame Cremorna smiled. ’It’s perhaps because it is not a New Age shop. Not in the general sense. It is inspired by botanicas of the sort common in Florida, where I grew up. We had a lot of Cubans and Puertoricans there.’ ’Have you lived in this part of the world for a long time?’ ’Quite a long time. Yes. My former boyfriend thought it was a good idea to move to Northern Europe a few years before the end of the Vietnam War.’ Emma continued to chat with the shop keeper for several minutes. Emelie still looked at the decks. Aram began to wander around in the shop. A square diagram with twenty-three arcane symbols hang on a wall. Bookshelves contained titles such as Three Books on Occult Philosophy, The Enchiridion, Selected prayers by Allan Kardec, and The Long-Lost Friend. A burgundy-coloured curtain covered door opening to an inner room. Curiously, Aram peeked inside. Several small tables were pushed up against the walls, covered with cloths in different colours. Candles were lit, scented in several different ways. The air was sweet and heavy. ’Uh oh. The inner sanctum is only open for some customers.’, Madame Cremorna said, where she stood behind his back. Aram blushed. ’I didn’t mean to do something wrong. Sorry, lady.’ When they left the shop, Emelie brought a recently bought tarot deck, and Emma carried a folder with her personal horoscope. * * * It was two days later. The bell tinkled in the usual way, when the door to the shop opened and closed. ’And what do you want, young man?’, she asked. ’I haven’t done well in my exams. I want to be sure my grades are good when I finish Sixth Form.’, Aram said. ’And when is that? If I hadn’t first met you with that young gothic girl and her friend, I would have guessed that you were older than a Sixth Form student.’ She eyed him knowingly. ’The last semester ends in June next year.’ Her face expressed mixed emotions: Pity, astonishment and a slight amount of aunt-like cunningness. ’Magic works normally through natural means, and natural means works slowly. A lesser working could have been enough, if you had asked me a year ago, and backed the magic up with real effort in class. But now, with just eight months…’ She didn’t end her sentence. There was a sad expression in Aram’s eyes, reminiscent of a very large, but very young and sad, puppy. The element of pity in Madame Cremorna’s eyes became more prominent. ’Let us discuss natural means first. You would probably learn more, if you do homework together with someone in your class, who’s got a talent for study.’ ’I already do.’ Aram told Madame Cremorna all about John. ’You have got a good new friend in him. Be nice to him.’, Madame Cremorna said. ’Homework with John helps, but not enough, and not fast enough. And I wish I could make mother and my uncle proud. But if you can’t help me…’ ’If something of what I do works, it is not because I have helped you, but because God has answered the prayers of several beings. Some call it magic, but ultimately all things and events comes from The Supreme Being anyhow. The ways and the means and the chains of events may vary, however. Or so is the way I see it.’ ’But you said, that I should have asked a year ago?’ ’I said, that a lesser working could have been enough then. With only eight months until graduation, I have to do a greater working, but only if you are ready to pay the price.’ ’I don’t own very much, but…’ ’I don’t talk about money. I talk about the willingness to choose talent for study before anything else. Wait. Don’t say anything yet. I will give you a reading.’ ’A reading?’ ’Just relax.’ She opened a purple bag of velvet, laid a pack of cards on the table, and mumbled a prayer. Aram couldn’t hear the words. She let him shuffle the cards, and then put three cards on the table cloth. The first card depicted a knight in armour, sitting on a horse. The second card depicted an old man with a beard, clothed in some sort of mediaeval brown gown, holding a staff with a snake – similar to the symbol sometimes used by hospitals and chemists – and holding a lantern in the other hand. By his feet lay a scythe and a hourglass. Far away, the presence of an owl could be distantly hinted at. The third card depicted a young man in renaissance clothes, carrying a round plate, smaller than a shield, but larger than a coin. From his bag a scroll and a quill pen peeked out. ’Hmm…’ Madame Cremorna didn’t say much for a while. Suddenly, she gathered all the cards into the deck again, and began shuffling. She laid the deck on the cloth, and pushed it over the table. ’Here. Shuffle, and think intensely about your friend John.’ Aram did what he was told to do, and gave her the deck again. ’That was all for today. Come back tomorrow afternoon, and I will tell you if I have found a way to help you.’ Aram felt a little bit disappointed. It had been stupid of him to come here, to begin with. He shrugged and left. When he had left, Madame Cremorna again lay three cards on the table. She was rather surprised to find the knight and the squire from the last reading come up again, but this time with reversed places: The squire with the plate to the left, and the knight with a sword to the right. The card in the middle was not the same. Where the card with the old bearded man had laid a few minutes ago, now lay a card depicting a half naked and extremely muscular man clothed in the skin rug of a lion. He had left his heavy club on the ground, and was breaking a stone pillar in two halves. Madame Cremorna remained almost expressionless, but one of her eyebrows twitched. She had got an idea. When Aram returned the next afternoon, he expected bad news. The shop keeper seemed, however, to be in a good mood, although perhaps mixed with an amount of harshness. She put two class encased candles on the desk. ’You are young. I will not let you pay the full price I charge an adult with full time salary. But you must be aware of the consequences of your request. Are you willing to let your friend become less talented, while you increase your own study results?’ ’Isn’t that black magic?’ Aram felt a chill on his back. He would probably not have asked for this, to begin with. ’I never accept black workings. I accept grey ones, however. Most human wishes rests in the grey area. The born-again nonconformist who prays to God for promotion at work, the churchman praying for a happy marriage, the white light Neo-pagan sending away a spell for fair weather at the picnic – all their wishes are tainted by a certain amount of selfishness. And so is yours. All of them are mixed with good intentions. And so is yours.’ ’But I can’t rob John of his intelligence. It is not fair.’ ’That depends. A greater working will affect reality on a deeper plane. In a sense, you will have switched – or better, mixed – destinies with each other. I have tried to conjure good destines over both of you, but you will still have to pay the price of tampering with destinies.’ ’Not my soul?’, Aram asked bleakly. ’Then I refuse.’ ’No, not your soul. I do not dabble in diabolism. Actually, I have fought against the minions of darkness on several occasions. But a greater working, affecting the threads of destiny, will take its toll from the one who ordered it, quite soon after the commencement. We are all responsible for our actions. Do you really want a talent for study?’ The question hung in the air for a moment. It cannot have been for a longer time than a second or two, but for Aram it felt like time stood still, like if a gigantic pendulum in an ancient clockwork was swinging over his head. It was still time to thank her for her willingness to help, but refuse to go further. ’Yes. I really want it. Just be sure that John will be happy.’ ’No-one can be one hundred percent sure, but I have reason to believe that he will enjoy the turn of events that will unfold, as well.’ ’Ooo-key? Well, then I suppose there will be no problem? What are the candles for?’ She pointed at one of the candles. It had a card on it, depicting a man in a bishop’s mitre, writing on parchment with a quill. He was surrounded by bookshelves. ’This is St. Isidore of Seville. You will take this home, and burn it nine consecutive Wednesdays until it is all burned away. St. Isidore wrote one of the first encyclopaedias in the world, and was recently designated the patron saint of internet.’ She pointed at the other candle. The card on it depicted a broad shouldered and bearded giant carrying the infant Jesus on his shoulder. ’This is St. Christopher. In the legend he was a giant who converted to Christianity. In reality, we don’t know very much about him, but the moral of the legend is edifying anyhow.’ ’What am I supposed to do with that candle?’ ’Give it to your friend John. If he don’t want to burn it every day or night, let him burn it whenever he likes. Tuesdays would be good, however.’ * * * It was Tuesday again. According to their new habit, John was helping Aram to study. ’And what am I supposed to do with this?’, John asked, curiously holding the glass encased prayer candle. ’You know that I am an Agnostic, don’t you?’ ’Some people burn it because they like how it looks or because they like the scent. It is just one month left until Advent, isn’t it?’ Shall I tell him about it? Aram thought intensely, and felt divided. To tell him the truth. But if he became angry and refused to help anymore at study time together? John was helpful. It would be awful if something terrible happened to him. But Madame Cremorna had said that he would enjoy what was happening, whatever that was. ’But isn’t it a little bit girlish, don’t you think?’ ’Not among my relatives. It is quite common that lads wear saint pendants, for instance.’ ’Yes. Now when you mention it, I have seen some of your martial art friends wearing rosaries, and I can’t accuse them for being girlish.’ The tension disappeared when Aram began to laugh. ’No, you can’t. At least not if you don’t take into account the time they spend in the bathroom, but so do I.’ ’Well, just as a sign of my gratitude for your gesture…’ John lit the candle, and then changed the subject. ’I have been thinking’, John said, ’about exercise.’ Aram was relieved that the subject had changed: ’What about exercise? You may be good at integral calculus and derivate – I have problem understanding what the bloody words mean – but I know a lot about exercise. Ask whatever you wish.’ ’To be honest: I think it is rather – ehrm.’ John’s cheeks and ears became more red than usual. ’I mean, I think it is cool to have muscles, even if it is hard to admit.’ ’It is not something to be shy about, little buddy. Many men like to be beefy. I guess most men would like to be built, even if not everyone like to admit it. Could you imagine Snape lifting weights?’ It was not only Aram’s joke about the acerbic chemistry teacher, but also his facial expression, which helped John to explode with laughter. It also shattered John’s embarrassment. ’Could you teach me how to work out at the gym, if I help you with homework?’ ’Fair enough. I sometimes feel stupid with you. At the gym I will be the teacher.’ Aram proudly flexed his right biceps, and felt cocky when he saw how John’s eyes involuntarily became wider. ’You like what you see?’ John suddenly looked shy again. Aram felt protective. John was so short and thin. ’Want to feel that bicep? Don’t be afraid. I’m not teasing you. It is fun for me to show my results.’ Shyly, John laid his palm over Aram’s biceps, and pressed carefully. ’Harder!’, Aram encouraged. John pressed harder. Aram’s biceps was of the size and density of a croquet-ball, and it rested on a really big triceps. John felt awkward again. His dick was growing and hardening. He sat down on the bed, and hoped that Aram hadn’t noticed. ’Which gym would be good for me?’ ’Why don’t you follow me to the one I workout at?’ ’Aren’t there a lot of big guys there? And doesn’t Peter and his crew hang out there?’ ’Peter is lazy at the gym, and I haven’t seen any of his friends there. Anderson is preoccupied with football, and the others spend their time with driving lessons, booze and grass. They aren’t very healthy, if you ask me. And I will be with you there. If Peter mess with you, I will have a serious conversation with him. He better stay away. The big guys at the gym are alright. Some of them like to give advice. Carl would probably join us at some times.’ * * * John stood before the desk at the gym, and felt shy. A very fit, but not gigantic, trainer manned the desk, dressed in a snug red T-shirt with the gym’s logotype on its chest. ’I’m waiting for a friend.’, John explained apologetically. He peeked into a folder about prices, and found a one-year membership mandatory. In September next year, he would most probably study at university in another city, and the last two months of a one-year membership would be wasted. Aram came in through the door, and began discussing membership and prices with the trainer and John, and, as a result, John got a deal, which meant, that he only had to pay for ten months. They entered the locker room, changed clothes, and Aram began to introduce John to the machines and weightroom. ’For anyone experienced, free weights are more important than machines. For a beginner, machines may have a purpose, especially for avoiding injuries. Look, for instance, on this one…’ One and a half hour later, John laid on the floor in the locker room. He had Aram’s towel under his head, and rested his legs on a bench, in order to let blood return to his head. He dripped of sweat, and felt nauseous. Aram returned from the loo with a paper towel dipped in cold water, and laid it on John’s forehead. ’I am sorry little buddy. I didn’t know where your limits were. I didn’t mean to exhaust you that much the first time.’ ’It’s not your fault. How could you know?’ * * * John and Aram had developed a habit of visiting Carl’s family on Sunday afternoons and evenings. Carl often spent Fridays and Saturdays with a bunch of SHARPs from the other side of the city, but Sundays were an opportunity for them to meet outside the gym and watch films together in Carl’s room. They all sat on Carl’s bed, with their backs against the wall. They had watched ’Captain America’ and ’Elysium’, and were now halfway into the Dwayne Johnson version of ’Hercules’. ’Look at all that muscle!’, Carl exclaimed impressed, for the third time during the evening. Aram poked him with his elbow: ’Do you know how gay you sound, Carl?’ ’Who you calling gay?’, Carl answered, and threw himself over Aram, playfully and boisterously tickling him. John bounced up in the air before landing back on the bedspread, but Aram and Carl fell to the floor, laughing and wrestling. It ended with Aram sitting on Carl’s back, holding his arm at an uncomfortable angle. * * * ’Grandmother arrives tomorrow. Will you eat dinner with the entire family?’, John’s mother – who worked with care of aged people – asked him the day before Halloween. ’I will stay home on All Saints, but Emelie has invited me to a Halloween party tomorrow night.’, John answered. ’I’m glad that you leave home more often, nowadays. But you know what grandmother will say.’ ’That borrowings of ghosts and pumpkins from the Americans will commercialise and destroy any decorous celebration of All Saints.’ John and his mother looked silently at each other with giddy looks, and both said in unison: ’What would grandfather say, if he had been alive?’ They laughed. John’s grandmother was not a particularly religious person, and, just as most of their relatives, she unreflectedly mixed Agnosticism with Lutheran Christianity, but she was fond of family traditions, and decorated her home zealously at Advent, Christmas, Easter, May Day and Midsummer, just as she had done as a young Mum in the 1960’s, and she enthusiastically invited friends and relatives to annual crayfish-parties and fermented-herring-dinners when summer turned into autumn. The recent introduction of masquerades at Halloween hadn’t found any approval from the old lady, since she thought that such merriment would distract from the solemn commemoration of the departed. She had decorated her own parents’ tomb today, before travelling to her only daughter and her family. Unlike most persons of her grandchildrens’ generation, his grandmother celebrated her nameday, and since her name was Inga-Birgitta, she celebrated both the seventh and the twenty-fifth of October. While Aram, Carl and John lived in council flats in grey five-storied concrete buildings built in the 1970’s (and Peter lived in a council flat from the late 1950s), Simon, Emma and Emelie lived in a residential garden suburb nearby, where hedges and fences kept one-family houses of mixed age (some of them as old as the 1920’s) apart. A very busy road marked the border between the two areas, but narrow asphalt-coated paths, for bicycles and pedestrians, ran in graffiti-painted tunnels under the road at two different points, connecting these two areas. John met Aram and Carl close to the nearby tunnel. John was dressed in a black suit he had bought half a year ago, when he attended the Confirmation of a cousin. John had put white theatre grease-paint in his face, and fastened vampire teeth on his eye-teeth. ’Greetings, children of the night!’ Aram and Carl smiled. Carl was dressed in camo trousers, but wore the same boots as usual. He was dressed in a black NATO jersey and some sort of combat harness. ’What is that supposed to mean, besides a soldier in general?’ ’Don’t you see? I’m G.I. Joe!’ ’I didn’t watch that film.’ ’You didn’t? It’s awesome! Let’s watch it on Sunday!’ Aram was green painted in his face, and dressed in a thick woolen overcoat. ’And you? That isn’t obvious… unless…’ Aram opened his coat. He didn’t wear any shirt, despite the cold autumnal weather. His entire torso was painted in bright green, and his trousers were purple. ’That’s hilarious! The Hulk! And it is convincing, too.’ ’You are much better than me with words, but I thank you for the compliments.’ ’Than I am’, John absentmindedly corrected Aram. The night was cold and filled with mist, but they found Emelie’s house without any problems. The house was full of very young adults, and it turned out that Emelie’s parents attended a dinner somewhere else that evening. The night went on rather well. The punchbowl probably contained something persons of their age weren’t officially supposed to drink for another two years, but, since the girls in Emelie’s circle of friends were well-behaved, and since most of the boys didn’t want to spoil the hard earned results of their physical exercise, utterly few of them drank too much. Emelie wasn’t known for having patience with fools, and had planned her guest list carefully, weeding out known drunkards. Parties with her classmates and parallel classes were otherwise known to be rather wet. Emelie had succeeded in her attempt to look like Morticia Adams. Emma was clothed in a furry pink rabbit suit, and only her face was visible. Several of the girls were dressed for an ordinary party, and qualified for a masquerade just by wearing pointy witches’ hats. John wasn’t the only vampire among the young men. A few of the guest looked like characters from animes or computer games. Emma seemed disappointed of Emelie’s choice of music: ’Emelie! Now we have listened to Fields of the Nephilim for half an hour. Don’t you have any tunes by Justin Bieber or One Direction?’ ’Are you kidding? Personally, I think it would spoil the Halloween mood, but if you wish to log into your own Spotify account, you are welcome to do so. You know where the computer is, but don’t expect me to tolerate your unbearable music for very long.’ On his way home, John felt awkward and slightly flattered. One of the lightbulbs had broken, and Emelie suffered from dizziness. She had asked John for help. When he stood at a chair, changing the lightbulb, his shirt had left the inside of his trousers and revealed his belly. Emelie had began to giggle nervously, and called after Emma. John didn’t understand why, and felt insulted. ’Please, John. Show us your abs again.’ ’My abs? What are you talking about? You know that I don’t…’ Giggling, Emelie had pinched the shirt fabric and revealed his abs again. His abs? He didn’t… He DID? ’Cool’, Emma said. ’Exercise suits you.’ * * * An Advent wreath stood on the kitchen table, burning with two lit candles and two unlit ones. It was dark outside the window, and, since the first snow had melted away, there was nothing to lighten the winter night up. John stood at a kitchen desk, taking notes of how much various foodstuffs weighed. That would simplify the composition of gym friendly recipes in the future. His mother entered the kitchen, and began to heat a small amount of mulled wine on the electric stove. ’I received phone calls from your chemistry teacher and your biology teacher today. Your physics teacher called yesterday.’ ’Yes?’ ’They are worried about you. Since you started two and a half year ago, they have regarded you as very talented in natural science, but recently your results have deteriorated. They wanted me to talk to you about it.’ ’Nothing is wrong. I just performed unusually bad in a couple of tests the last weeks.’ The mulled wine had reached a desired temperature. She poured some of the content in a mug. ’Do you want some? It is the soft drink version, so you don’t have to worry. It’s cold outside, so I needed something to drive away the chill in my bones.’ ’No, thanks. I avoid sugar as well.’ ’John, I don’t disapprove that you exercise. It seems to be healthy for you, and I am happy that you have a lot more friends now than you had before. But don’t you think you take it a little too far? Why don’t you play floorball or badminton, or jog or swim, or any other more normal sport? It can’t be good for you, to be so obsessed with what you eat. Are you going to eat like that way during Christmas as well? What will grandmother say?’ ’What would grandfather say, if he had been alive?’ ’This is not something to joke about. I’m afraid that your exercise will affect your school results. And I have read about body dysmorphia and eating disorders in the newspapers. Don’t you understand that I am worried about you? What will happen to your plans to become a physician, a biochemist or a physicist, if you let exercise distract you from studies?’ ’YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING!’, John shouted, left the kitchen, took his training bag and closed the door with a bang. His teenage anger went rampant through his mind and body: Thoughts going in a loop, his emotions boiling, his blood pressure pounding, his body temperature steaming. He loosened the wooly scarf and opened the closed zipper of his large jacket. The staff had left the gym, and the doors were closed, but members were given a key tag that unlocked the door at night. The scent of steel corroding under the influence of sweat. The scent of rubber mats. Furiously, he worked out in the almost empty gym: Only two or three other members exercised this late. It felt much better afterwards. The machines, the barbells, the dumbbells: They had helped him to release his irritation, and he now felt calm, content and harmonious. Freshly showered. Meanwhile he had been indoors at the gym, the temperature had dropped, and it had began to snow. The chill had some bite. On his way home, he unexpectedly met Carl, who was on his way home from something else: It had something to do with music. They talked. About parents and other things. Carl. Reliable Carl: Hard as nails, incredibly funny, and a kind friend to his friends. ’Ah. Come here, mate. It will be better tomorrow.’ They exchanged a hug. A brotherly hug. A rather long brotherly hug. Carl’s polo shirt was warm of his body heat. Carl’s glistening, black synthetic bomber jacket was cold of the winter temperatures. The scents from their different anti-perspirants mixed in the cool night air. A brotherly hug. Carl patted John at the back. ’It will probably be better tomorrow.’ * * * Emma sat in her sofa. Aram sat in the same armchair he had sat so many times before. A lit Advent star hung in the window, and spread a soft glow in the living room. From windows on the other side the street other electric Advent stars shone back. Emma was finishing her explanation: ’It isn’t you, it is me. I am not able to appreciate what you speak about. I miss the old Aram from when we first met: My teddy bear. My kind puppy with hockey butt. I am not interested in nuclear science, new medicines or what’s going on in parts of the world I don’t even know where they are. We have nothing in common anymore, if we ever had. I’m sorry. I like you as a friend, but …’ Her lip began to tremble. Aram hug her sadly, carefully and more softly than usual. ’I’m sorry, but I suppose that I understand…’ * * * Madame Cremorna had closed her shop at 7 p.m. as usual. Since the supermarkets kept open until 9 or 10 p.m. she had lots of time to buy the food and Christmas decorations necessary. She returned to her shop, in order to do some work. Supernatural work. She lived in an old-fashioned flat upstairs, which she had bought several years ago, before the prices had begun to rise ridiculously. Her phone rang. ’Madame Cremorna. … O hello Stephen! How is life in New York? I don’t even know what time it is in your time zone. … It is? … Aha. … A disturbance? … Oh, yes, I am up to a major working, but it is far from world-shattering, you know. Professional secrecy, so I can’t say anything, but I can assure you that it is just about the private life of two persons and their surroundings. It is not like I am about to open a gate for Dormammu or Nergal, if you know my drift. … Not funny? I see. … You are? London? Why? … But what brings you and John to this corner of the world? … No? You are kidding? … Yes, of course. Do you have any dietary restrictions before that working? … No. … No, it is no problem at all: I have a lot of vegetarian Christmas dishes. … Pardon? … No, it doesn’t surprise me that John isn’t picky. If he would like it, I could probably find a christmas pudding and a turkey for him God knows where, but you have to know that the locals prefer ham, meatballs, cabbage and vanilla rice pudding at this time of the year. And herring. Lots of herring. Remind me to put an ash tray in my living room while you stay. … Oh yes. … No, no problem at all. Take care, and give me a call when you think you will stop by.’ She hang up and washed her hands, first in running water and a non-perfumed soap, then in Florida Water. She sprinkled herself with holy water, went before her private shrine and lit both the altar candles and the incense. The air in the room felt thicker now, and the room felt connected to the rest of the world and to the unseen aspects of reality. Her highly trained senses could feel the presence of God, of spirits of many sorts, and of unseen subtle influences stretching themselves out from the room as a cobweb of spiritual light. ’Almighty and everlasting God, who harkened to the prayers of Moses in the wilderness, when he, assisted of Aaron and Hur, prayed for victory against the Amalekites, hear me…’ After a long prayer she stretched her hands out over fragments of candle wax she had removed from a candle, in order to fill it with scented oil. ’O God of my fathers, and Lord of Mercy, who hast made all things with thy word, and ordained man through thy wisdom, that he should have dominion over the creatures which thou hast made, and order the world according to equity and righteousness, and execute judgment with an upright heart: Give me wisdom, that sitteth by thy throne; and reject me not from among thy children…’ Then she did the same to fragments from another candle: ’It is God, that girdeth me with strength of war: and maketh my way perfect. He maketh my feet like harts’ feet: and setteth me up on high. He teacheth mine hands to fight: and mine arms shall break even a bow of steel…’ She had repeated this for weeks now. Divine Spirit was answering. The wheels of the invisible and incomprehensible world machinery turned, and unseen chains of causes and effects slowly turned the former reality into something slightly, slightly different. * * * Chapter two is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7140-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-two/
  14. Chapter one is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7118-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-one/ With a little help from magic Chapter Two Twelfth Night came and went. Spring semester began. Aram hadn’t seen John for a couple of weeks. During Christmas leave, Aram’s family had went to another city, to spend Christmas with relatives. In order to use the holidays for something useful, Aram had brought books from the public library with him, and he had spent Christmas reading a voluminous handbook on anatomy and a monograph on constitutional matters. The books went far beyond what he was expected to read, from his teachers point of view, but Aram wanted to quench his insatiable thirst for more knowledge, and it wouldn’t hurt his grades for sure. It had been a fascinating experience to follow John’s development during autumn and beginning of winter. It was rather common that beginners at the gym got initial results pretty quick, when their bodies adjusted to something entirely new and unfamiliar, but John’s results went far beyond what could be expected of that usual effect. At the Halloween party he had been lean and defined, but during November and December he had began to fill out and approaching a heavier build. One of the trainers had demanded John to hand in a urine sample, since the gym didn’t tolerate steroid abuse among its members, but it came back negative. Concerning exercise, Aram was slightly disappointed with himself. He hadn’t improved his results at all in October and November. In December he couldn’t any longer lift the weights he was used to. He had got a bad cold then, and guessed that it could have something to do with it, but there was also a nagging suspicion back in his head, that his decreased ability could have something to do with Madame Cremorna – that is, if what she did really worked. His scientifically-inclined mind was of two thoughts when it came to the highly eccentric lady in the shop. He missed Emma. They had been an item for years, and life was suddenly missing someone he had begun to take for granted. He missed her warm presence, the scent of her hair and the funny way she giggled. Just as he thought about her, she happened to coincidentally pass by, on the way to her locker. ’Hey, Emma! How was Christmas?’ She looked surprised. Unusually surprised. ’Aram? Nice of you to ask. It was good, but nothing special. And you?’ She looked at him differently than he was used to. The situation felt odd. ’The thing we talked about in the end of the semester. There is no way for you to reconsider?’ ’Talked about? Reconsider? I am not sure that I understand exactly what you are talking about?’ ’About…’ Then it struck him, that he could remember two different strings of events – two different pasts existing simultaneously, side by side. In one of the pasts he and Emma had never been a couple. He felt strange. ’Do you feel okey?’ ’Yes, just a little bit dizzy. Thank you. See you at math class.’ ’Don’t exercise too much. I think it is so sweet of John to teach you how to exercise at the gym, but you have to take it easy in the beginning.’ * * * John had been able to indulge in two workouts a day during Christmas holidays, and the gym had been unusually sparsely visited during these weeks. He had eaten traditional Christmas dishes for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, but then returned to his highly well-planned eating plan. He had risen early the first day of the spring semester, and executed a cardio workout at the gym before school day. When he arrived to his locker he heard Peter’s voice on the other side the row of lockers: ’Oi! Swotter! I’m talking to you!’ ’Right. Now his gaze is penetrating lockers as well.’, John thought for himself, and braced himself for the upcoming troubles, but Peter went on, talking on the other side the row. What was going on? John followed the row, and peeked around the corner. Peter, Anderson and two of their friends stood in a semi-circle around Aram, tugging his laptop. ’What the hell are you doing?’, John shouted. Peter and his friends turned around. ’Oh, hello John. Don’t worry. We are just having some fun with Swotter here. Not your business.’ A feeling of unreality lowered itself over the scene. ’Not my business? After all the hell you have given me?’ ’What are you talking about? Only a fool would mess with you, meathead.’ ’Uh. That may be right, but it doesn’t change what you did just a few months ago, does it?’ ’What the hell are you talking about? We were friends in the hockey team once, if you don’t remember? Why would I roughhouse you?’ The feeling of unreality became more intense. John’s facial expression must have been weird, since Peter loosened his grip around Aram’s jacket, and nodded to his friends to leave, quickly following them. As they left the place, John could hear Anderson say: ’Did you see his face? I don’t know what he is on, but I hadn’t dared to stay in the case he got into roid rage, would you?’ * * * When John bought his winter jacket last winter, it had been considerably too large, but since he was still growing, he had expected it to fit better this winter, and anyhow it was useful to wear a jacket that would permit him to wear a warm jersey. December had been rather mild, and the snow that fell several times had melted away. After Twelfth night the weather had changed, a lot of snow had fallen, and it was now minus ten Centigrades. When he was on his way to the gym this morning, he had found that his jacket was too small, despite it had fit perfectly days before, and his jeans were too short. A lot of weird stuff was going on. His unkept hair had changed into a style with shaved sides and the remaining hair kept in thin braids covering the top of the head. Aram hadn’t believed his eyes when he saw John earlier in the day. It was the first time in his life – as he remembered the past – someone had tried to bully him, and he appreciated John’s help. John’s growth during autumn had been fast, but still within the limits of his physical constitution. It was different now. During the holidays John had grown at least a decimetre in height, and his bones must have restructured themselves. His chest and his shoulders were broader, and his hips and waist were narrower. Although Carl didn’t workout together with John and Aram every time, he had promised to accompany them at the gym today. Carl arrived with melting snow flakes on his black bomber jacket, and it took him some time to untie the shoestrings of his shiny black boots. He began to change into sportswear. John looked good in sportswear. The T-shirt was snug, but the drawstring cotton trousers were baggy enough to hide his obviously big legs somewhat. They all trained legs today, ending the workout with heavy weights in the calf rise machine. ’I feel a little bit strange, today.’, said Aram when they had returned to the locker room. ’Uhuh.’, answered John. ’I have felt strange, too.’, and tried to relieve himself from the sweatdrenched T-shirt. With a ripping sound he involuntarily happened to tear it into pieces instead. ’O shit!’, John exclaimed, distracted from the thought of any strangeness. ’It was the second time this week. I must buy larger training clothes.’ Aram stared at John. It was no surprise that John was muscular now, but the shape of John’s naked torso went far beyond what Aram had expected. Carl stared as well on the perfect traps and shoulders of John. On the perfect roundness of John’s pecs. On the valley between the pecs, continuing in a valley between his abs. Although Aram was the only one of them who knew the words for obliques, iliac furrow and serratus, Carl stared on them just as much as Aram, if not more. Carl sat down on a bench, but immediately changed his mind and left for the loo. When they were alone, Aram could manage to have a word with John. ’It must sound crazy, but it feels like reality is changing.’, said Aram. ’That’s exactly how I feel it. So it’s not only me?’, answered John. In low voices, so that Carl wouldn’t hear their discussion from the bathroom, they discussed their experiences. It turned out that they both remembered last semester – and actually their entire lives before that – in the same way: John had been short, shy, scrawny and interested in wildlife. Aram had been extremely fit, confident and brawny. John had been teaching Aram most of their schoolwork subjects during autumn. But both of them could also remember another, more dimly and vaguely recollected, past, in which John had always been built and interested in sports, Aram always had been thin and achieving good grades, and John had began to teach Aram about exercise. It seemed like the rest of the school only remembered the reality the two of them regarded as less real. They didn’t manage to continue this trail of thoughts. Carl returned from the loo, and interrupted. ’My jacket is suddenly too small. I have to buy a new one in a size that allows me to grow.’, John told them. ’Then I know the perfect store for you.’, answered Carl, and looked at his watch. ’If we hurry, we will get there in time before it close.’ They got on the tram. It was full of people on their way home from work, and the floor was wet of melting snow. John was freezing, since his jacket was too small, and he was only wearing a tight t-shirt, which felt too snug. Some people couldn’t avoid staring. John felt of two minds about this. It was a new experience. They left the tram. ’Is it far from here? I’m freezing.’ ’Who wouldn’t freeze in this weather? Although you have the look of a hard fucker who could endure anything. You know that?’ John felt flattered and embarrassed, but it didn’t change the outdoors temperature. They took left into a cobblestone-paved alley, and soon found the shop John had mentioned. It was still open. Posters for bands, mainly punk rock bands, covered the black painted walls. A clock on the wall looked like the symbol for the British Royal Air Force. From the ceiling hung the symbol of London Underground. When John viewed the room, several styles of clothes hung from rackets or were displayed on shelves, ranging from stylish overcoats and expensive lamb’s wool jerseys to the sort of provocative clothes Emelie used to wear. ’Just tell me if you need any help’, said the shop owner, who sat behind the counter with earphones plugged into his ears. ’It’s fine. I know where to look.’, answered Carl. And so he did. ’You said you need something wide, with room to let you grow. Why haven’t you considered an Alpha bomber jacket like mine?’ ’Oh. Eh. I don’t listen to your music.’ ’Lots of people use bombers nowadays, even the bloody hipsters. You have always dressed like you are shy of yourself, and I haven’t understood why. Which colour do you like?’ ’Uh. Blue.’ Carl handed him a bomber jacket in a metallic blue colour. John tried it on. It felt comfortable, and although it had lot of room for results from the gym, it didn’t look too large. John watched his own reflection in the mirror. The jacket suited him. ’It was perhaps not a bad idea after all. Do they have wide trousers as well?’ ’Most jeans are too skinny for your legs. I would suggest army style cargo trousers.’ ’Don’t you think that would look silly? Or angry? Or nazi?’ ’Last time I checked, a lot of my anti-racist friends wore cargo trousers. It’s not like the 90’s any more. Here, try this pair with city camo. But, of course, you need a pair of boots to match.’ Carl began to evaluate the shelves with boots. John found a pair of boots he liked. He observed himself in the mirror. Although covering his body, his new style accentuated his new physique, and he looked intimidating, in a way he never had before. It felt unreal and like he was doing something forbidden, but it also felt good. John payed for his new winter clothes, and they left the shop. It had began to snow again. His new jacket kept him warm. * * * Emelie sat in the school cafeteria steaming of anger. Her glass of water lay before her, its content running over the table. She tried to stop it with napkins. ’Emelie? What’s happening?’ It was Aram. Absentmindedly he used his two used napkins to stop the water from staining Emelies dress or the floor. ’Oh, sorry for the mess. I just talked to Emma.’ ’Emma? What has happened to her. She’s nice.’ Aram uncomfortably remembered Emma from another reality. Her scent. Her laugh. Sex with her. Her sense of humour. ’Emma has got a new boyfriend, and we quarrelled.’ Aram felt a short sting of jealousy, and quickly realised that he had no reason to – in this reality. ’A new boyfriend? Who?’ Emelie had the expression of an elderly aunt in an acerbic mood when she answered: ’Anderson.’ * * * It was his eating day, he tried to convince himself, when he was on his way home from an evening out with Carl and his friends. It had become a lot of comparatively cheap and unhealthy pub food and several pints of beer. The SHARPS were a friendly bunch, but had tested him initially with a rude sense of humour. John soon fell into the jargon. It was very unpretentious. The winter night was cold. Snow covered the grassy slopes, and frost glimmered from the stairs of stone up to the council-flat neighbourhood. ’It was good, Carl. I want to do it again.’ ’Workouts are good, and I admire your discipline with food – I could never manage to follow rules like that – but you got to have fun now and then, aren’t you?’ John followed Carl home. Carl’s parents had went to bed. Trying to be silent, but laughing loudly, the lads their boots and jackets in the passage, and then went to Carl’s room. ’And as I said before, there’s no hurry to become a skinhead even if you were interested. I hate poseurs just as much as the other lads.’ ’Poseurs?’ ’Yes. Idiots full of themselves, who one day decides to come in from nowhere and adopt the skinhead surface with no content. They usually care nothing about the music, and a few months later they go after another fad. They come in several flavours: There’s the racist idiots, who know nothing about skins before ’82 or about SHARP, and there’s the hipsters, and there’s the gays.’ ’The gays?’ John blushed somewhat, and tried to not blush. ’Believe it or not. Some gays think that we are hot, so they try to look like us.’ John expressed some noncommittal noises. ’Which is rather flattering in a sense, but I don’t want a fifty year old daddy panting me in my neck, if you know what I say. Understand me correct: I am all for LGB rights – I’m a leftie for God’s sake – and I am not against some skins happening to be gay. What people do in their beds is their own business. I just want people to enter the scene out of the right motives. If you hate ska or oi!, can’t take a punch, and lack a sense of style, you don’t belong. Any upper class twat can shave his head, but he will not get what skinhead is about. Nor will the idiots who only want a pretext to pick a fight. They are just poseurs, all of them. And the boneheads have no flair for style: Have you ever seen a bonehead wearing a crombie coat? And they prefer threadbare WP t-shirts before a perfect Ben Sherman.’ * * * ’You will never believe what happened during lunchtime today.’, John told Carl while they helped the melocore club moving the large loud-speakers. ’No? What happened?’, Carl asked. ’Peter asked me if he could join me training at the gym.’ ’You are kidding me. Peter is a racist wanker. I suppose you told him to go to hell.’ ’No. At first, I couldn’t believe it was happening, but he seemed to be honest about it, and it sounded like he didn’t want to hang around Anderson anymore.’ ’What if it is just a trick?’ ’I don’t know. Perhaps this could let us put some pressure on him to stop behaving like an idiot.’ ’It’s easy for you to say, John. You have never been bullied. I have seen what Peter is capable of, and it’s not pretty. For Aram’s sake, you should say no.’ The discussion was interrupted, when Simon entered the room. He gave some directions. The room was soon ready for a concert. ’I hope you stand by our agreement?’, Carl said to Simon. ’We help you with this, and your club will pay for an oi! and ska themed Saturday in two months.’ ’Yes. Yes, of course. That’s the deal. Why do you repeat yourself all the time?’, answered Simon. * * * Aram’s mother didn’t approve of his new look. He was slowly untying the green shoelaces of his boots, when she asked: ’John, you have always been a nice boy. Why, of a sudden, do you look like a nazi?’ ’Sorry Mrs A., but I don’t look like nazi.’ ’That jacket and those boots. I have heard about nazis who look like that.’ ’He’s right, mom’, Aram interrupted. ’There’s a lot of anti-racists who sport that look, nowadays.’ Mrs A. looked slightly confused. ’Back when I was in your age, only nazis looked like that.’ ’The nazis were probably the visible ones, back then. But the roots of skinhead culture goes further back, before the split between racists and anti-racists within the culture. It was originally about Jamaican music. Oi! music was added in the 70’s. The split between racist skins and anti-racist skins took place in 1982. The racist skins are seldom seen anymore, at least in this country. The far right guys went on to wear ties and suits or became rockers or were assimilated by the casuals. Actually, I don’t understand why the far right guys tried to nick a culture about Jamaican music to begin with. And by the way, I’m not a skinhead yet, anyhow. I’ve got hair.’ 'If you call that hair.' Aram’s mother still didn’t look like she knew what to believe, but began putting dishes on the table. ’I’m glad that you help Aram with exercise. He only read books before.’ ’Mum!’, Aram protested indignantly. John recognized the situation too well: What is it with parents who behave like you still are fourteen or something? John continued to chat politely with Aram’s mother, while they ate a salad of parsley and fried breadcrumbs, chicken, chickpea sauce, and olives. After the meal Aram and John went into Aram’s room. It looked different from what John could remember. The posters of hockey players had disappeared. A novena candle similar to John’s own stood in the window. Aram had two bookshelves from IKEA, filled with books about natural science, mostly about biology and medicine. John watched the books confused. He could remember how he once had been able to understand the content of books like these, but he also became acutely aware of that he wasn’t able to digest their content anymore. The world felt weird, like it changed around him. ’Aram, I need to talk to you.’, John said. ’Same here. Carl is always present when we meet at the gym, so I haven’t got any opportunity. Not since our homework Tuesdays ended.’ ’Homework Tuesdays? You do remember them? No one else seem to remember, and no one else seem to remember that you once were almost as big as I am now.’ ’So you remember, too? It sounded like you did at the gym a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure.’ ’You will probably not believe me, but it feels like I have lived in two different realities, and now only the better reality is left. It feel so good that the other reality has disappeared.’ ’You seem to like it?’ ’Do you remember the same other reality as I do?’ ’I believe so, but I am not sure. Why do you ask?’ ’There was not much to like in the other reality, so of course I prefer this one. You don’t have to be a genius to understand that.’ ’Oh.’ ’Oh, what?’ Aram’s eyes and eyebrows expressed several feelings, exactly what wasn’t easy to interpret. ’Oh… The thing I liked with the other reality, was my success at the gym and in martial arts.’ ’Yes. I admit that that detail must have been good for you. For you. For me that other reality was hell. Whatever is happening, it is for the better.’ ’I’m glad to hear that. Eh. Uh…’ ’What are you trying to say?’ ’John. I love science. I want to dedicate my life to science, but there seem to be some things that are beyond scientific explanations.’ ’Perhaps there are. I haven’t thought much about it, but generally people would call me a sceptic.’ ’But you can’t explain away what’s happening to us. You know that it is real?’ ’It could have been me becoming mentally ill, but not if the same thing happens to both of us independently.’ ’Precisely. I can’t expect you to believe me, but I think… Eh. Uh. Ehrm…’ Aram rose from the chair before his computer, and reached the window. ’This novena candle. And yours. I bought them from a crazy lady… No, she wasn’t crazy. She was very sane, but very odd. She claimed that you and I could have our highest wishes come true through these, but at a cost.’ ’A cost?’ ’It seems like I became a perfect science student, but losing my muscles, while you became a poorer science student, when you achieved all that muscle.’ John felt suddenly aroused. He had packed on a lot of beef. It felt good, so much better than being like he was before. But losing his skills in biology was the price to pay? To hell with biology. The feel of these… He put his right hand on his left pec and squeezed. It felt good. He rose from the bed, standing before Aram with his full height. ’Are you angry at me?’ John hugged him. Aram could feel the presence of John’s muscular physique pressed against him. Aram could also feel that John’s dick was stiff, which made him uncomfortable. ’Angry? Why should I be angry with you? You have given me a gift. You could have asked first, but then I could have refused it as a bad joke, so probably you couldn’t have asked before. I love how reality has turned out to be.’ Aram looked relieved. ’Oh, another thing. Peter want to join us at the gym, but I wanted to ask you first.’ * * * Chapter three is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7668-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-three/
  15. I want to thank muscledrain, who suggested the theme and general outline of this story, and Gunshotuk, who friendly assisted with proofreading. I added these links, by editing my original post. Chapter one is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7118-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-one/ Chapter two is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7140-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-two/?hl=magic With a little help from magic Chapter Three A few weeks earlier, it had been completely dark at the hour when the students arrived for the first lesson, but now rose-tinted clouds and an icy blue sky sleepily floated over the brick building, although the sun itself hadn’t reached above the roofs of the neighbouring buildings. The snow-ploughs had left high snow-drifts against the surrounding walls. The outdoors temperature had dropped to minus twenty Centigrades, and the breath of the students formed clouds of visible vapour in the air. One of the bus lines was at a standstill, due to the icy cover on one of the steepest roads in the city, and this had caused a late arrival of some students. Aram was irritated. With no bus, he had been late, and got on a later tram departure than usual. The situation had affected many students from the same parts of the city, and he wasn’t entirely alone in the corridors, although most of the students already sat in their lecture rooms. He put his jacket and his training bag in his locker, and grabbed his biology book. ’Oi Swotter!’, shouted the too familiar voice of Anderson. Aram sighed. Here we go again. The angry faces were there as usual, shouting things as usual, with one minor divergence: Peter wasn’t there. Slowly, a hunch began to emerge, but Aram wasn’t given the time to finish his thought. Anderson was there, wrestled Aram quickly, until he lay on the floor, getting salt stains on his clothes. Anderson shouting things about going back to his own country. ’You know that I was born here, don’t you?’, Aram asked. The scent of Anderson’s leather jacket. The scent of a cheap cologne and adolescent sweat. The scent of Anderson’s bad breath: Probably a yoghurt breakfast. The scents which could have been perfectly neutral, or even the scents of friendship, but now, since several years, the scents of humiliation. Anderson’s football scarf dangling in Aram’s face. Shouting. Spittle. Something about Arabs. ’And no. I’m not Arab either. My ancestors lived in Syria, Turkey and Iraq long before the Arabs.’ Anderson’s hand around Aram’s Adam’s apple. It was useless to resist: The footballer who dabbled at the gym was significantly stronger and heavier than Aram. Anderson’s bodyweight disappeared. At first, Aram was too dizzy to register what had happened, but, when he composed himself, he could watch Anderson in a knuckle fight with Peter. The other members of Anderson’s little crew standing passively, not knowing what to do. Aram adjusted his eyeglasses and his tie, quickly remembering how he had suffered from myopia since primary school, and how John had not. ’What are you doing, fatso? We are mates, aren’t we?’, Anderson tried to convince Peter. ’I’m tired of you Anderson. I’m tired of being the fatso. I’m tired of being your excuse for this. I thought that I was the leader of our gang, and then I realized, that I have been your puppet all the time. Always blame the fatso. Always nagging about how I was dismissed from the hockey team!’ ’But you were dismissed from the hockey team, fatso. You didn’t have what it takes. You realize that, huh? I remained in the football team because Coach saw my qualities. But why do you defend the little Prof? Have you become an Arab lover all of a sudden?’ Peter was over Anderson in a second. He must have left all self-control, and punched on the leaner rocker uncontrollably, using his weight to his advantage. But Anderson was faster, and used that to snake himself out of Peter’s grip and range. The three other rockers froze from their disbelief and hesitation, and surrounded Peter. ’Fatso! Fatso! Fatso!’ ’Frigging bloody wanker. Now I have a blood stain on my new plaid shirt. You will pay for this! What is it? Don’t want to be reminded of what a bad hockey player you are? A failure! A loser! And you were never a real rocker either! Couldn't afford a real jacket? Couldn’t afford a second hand car? Letting others pay for your beer and hot dogs on the motor festivals? Do you think I’m scared of you?’ The last sentence wasn’t delivered convincingly. Peter stared Anderson in his eyes. The small hesitation was all Peter needed. He pulled himself free. Neither Anderson, nor Peter, saw what happened next, but Aram saw it. John and Carl arrived. Both were of course taller than any of the young men, but Carl probably wasn’t in much better shape than Anderson, and considerably more light-weight than Peter. John, on the other side, towered over the group, his escalating results on the gym progressing almost visibly each day. It was probably the bad weather that had caused Carl to wear army cargotrousers instead of his favourite bleacherjeans, but, unlike John’s city camo, Carls trousers followed the greenish colour scheme for forests. The bulky and glossy bomber jackets enhanced their size, one black and one metallic blue. The military origin of two of their garments, was contrasted by the stylish details of others: Carl’s favourite maroon polo, his blue braces and blue shoe laces. John had shaved his braided ’Vikings’ hairdo off, and Aram noticed a black and yellow-striped polo shirt and thin, black braces, that John hadn’t worn before. Had he joined the SHARPs? Yes he had: Aram could see a new embrodiered patch on John’s jacket. Anderson’s followers looked at the two skinheads for a second, and left the place. Anderson became aware of Carl and John, and lit up. ’Oi fellas! He is all yours. Now he even attacks friends, not to mention poor Prof over there.’ It was Carl who answered. ’Don’t try to fast talk out of this. We heard before we saw. Get out of my way if you don’t want any more thrashing.’ Anderson was silent when he left the lockers. * * * Grumblingly, Carl had accepted that Peter followed them to the gym. ’What I can't understand, is that you have the patience to have him around you. If I had been you, I had wanted to punch his face in.’ Aram didn't know exactly what to say. Nor did John. Remembering two versions of reality gave you perspectives on things that could have been, but Carl wouldn’t believe them if they tried to tell him, and it was probably best a guarded secret. Carl wiped his boots with a wet napkin, in order to remove salt stains. ’You ought to wipe your boots too, John. Salt damages the leather terribly.’ Peter arrived into the locker room, and they changed the subject. * * * John and Carl were on their way home from a concert in another city. They had gone with two of Carl’s old friends, one of whom owned a car. The concert had been fantastic: Some of the song texts about injustice in society, some song texts about football or loyalty to your neighbourhood. Stirring refrains. Many in the audience sang along in the the refrains. John surrounded by friends, with Carl at his side. Sturdy Carl. Good Carl. John had never seen so many skins at the same place at the same time: Short, tall, some in their 60’s, some in the same age as John, and every age between. Some, going for a more old-fashioned take on the style, wore lambskin jackets of a sort that had been popular among skins in the early 1970’s, and not a few, coming from the southern parts, wore crombie coats (although they had bitterly found out that, up here, crombies better had to wait until spring arrived). Bearing in mind the outdoors temperature, it wasn’t strange that most of them wore bomber jackets: black, blue, green or burgundy. In the middle of the concert, John had a short vision of individuality blurring, and his consciousness floating in an atmosphere of affinity, belonging, and joy. John and Carl now shared the back seat of the car, while their friend in the front seat tried to keep the driver awake by talking to him. Loud music played in the car, something by Rancid, John thought. The wintery landscape passed by in the night, swiftly illuminated by the headlights, and then, as swiftly, left behind in the winter night’s darkness. Snow on spruces. Snow on firs. Snow. A road sign, warning for elks. Snow. A small village with a petrol station, street lamps illuminating the back seat for a few seconds, and then winter forest again. Darkness. Snow. He removed the hockey scarf from his neck. It was hot enough inside the car. Carl fell asleep shortly after they left the concert, resting his head against John’s shoulder. While awake, Carl was always so assertive, so confident. When he was asleep, his face looked different: Relaxed, innocent. During the journey he had slid, and his head now rested against John’s side. John had protectively laid his arm around Carl’s shoulders, feeling the silky but synthetic surface of Carl’s jacket. Suddenly, John became aware of, that Carl’s hand, which had rested against John’s trousers, had moved to touch John’s crotch through the fabric of the camo trousers. John hadn’t thought about it, but his tool was hard by being so close to his best friend, if that word was enough to describe his feelings. In his sleep, Carl began to clench John’s dick through the fabric. Clenched. And relaxed. Clenched. And relaxed. John tried to wake Carl up. Carl would be terrified if he had known what he did. John didn’t want to catch the attention from the guys in the front seat: They would tease Carl for weeks, if they knew. Clenched. And relaxed. ’Carl, wake up. Wake up.’, John whispered, and shook him carefully. ’Wake…’ The clenching felt good. Carl had cupped his hand over John’s dickhead. Carl didn’t awake, in spite of Johns silent attempts to wake him. Clenched. And relaxed. They passed by another village. Street lamps revealed a smile on Carl’s face, the blond stubble on his hair glistening like gold in the electric light. And then the car rushed into the night again. A pleasant darkness. Clenched. And relaxed. John’s bloodstream was filled with warm honey, running slowly and exquisitely through his system. Clenched. And relaxed. His dick felt like steel now. Clenched. The warm presence of Carl so close to him. Silky but synthetic. And camo. And relaxed. Reliable. Tough. Kind. Clenched. Loyal and masculine. And relaxed. His invincible friend. Doing this. Clenched. And relaxed. A mist of dark red pleasure floated inside his eyes. Floated. Slowly and exquisitely. Mist. Of a thundercloud. Rushing. Through him. Through his muscles. Feeling big. Hard. Best friend. Thunderbolt. Mist. Rushing. Through him. Smile. Stubble. Close. Thunderbolt mist. Rushing. Now – pure pleasure. It wasn’t aware of it’s existence now. It was. Only. The. Pleasure. Only. The. Pleasure. Only. The. Only. Only. Only. Onl… Clenched. * * * Carl and John had had their ’little chat’ with Peter a few days before, Carl hesitatingly, and John well aware of what Aram and himself had agreed upon. If reality could change, persons could too. Carl had probably been a little bit too harsh, but John had focussed on reason: A few years after arrival, refugees pays tax. Financial argument against refugee policy are therefore without foundation. Freedom of religion is something good: Would you like to be forced to practice something against your will, yourself? No? Then don’t do it to anyone else. Food? Is it really a good idea to decide what anyone else would eat? Do you really like fermented herring yourself? No? You hate the stench? So do I. Why would you then like to dictate that anyone else’s dinner tables should be stuck in the 1890’s or 1920’s? Only upper class eating sushi? I wouldn’t call my cousin upper class: She assists elderly people in their homes. Do you eat pizza? Yes? You know that pizza isn’t indigenous food in Northern Europe, eh? Want to retain a good system of social security? But why then argue for a right wing party? You know that they side with the big companies against workers’ rights, don’t you? Not a commie bastard? If you don’t like the bunch of people Carl hang around with, it’s fine, though they are not exactly commies either. Make up your own mind. There are more answers to these things than two. There are a lot of political parties in the centre, if you prefer that. Most of them are in favour of a well-functioning social security. Your grandfather vote Labour? Then I suggest that you have a chat with your grandfather about this. Wouldn’t that be a good idea? Thought so. Peter looked tired after the conversation. Carl and John had seen smugness or angry sullenness before, but the present sad expression on Peter’s face had none of them seen, and there was something puppy-like about his eyes. Carl handed him a low-carb soda. Peter and his mother lived in a flat consisting of three rooms, all of them considerably smaller than what Carl and John were used to in the younger and recently renovated part of the area. Old-fashioned containers for salt, sugar, meal and oats hung under the dressers, and John noticed to his surprise that the flat lacked a dishwasher. Although cigarette-smoking was falling out of fashion, it was obvious that Peter’s absent Mum was a smoker, which was a pity, since the living room with the old TV could have been quite nice otherwise, with an old fashioned parquet floor and shelves with framed photographs of relatives. Unlike Carl, Peter didn’t have a TV in his bedroom. It didn’t take too long to convince Peter that some of his former views were wrong, although some of the changes probably didn’t go more than skin deep, initially. He had proved that he was able to take sides with Aram, and he was childishly enthusiastic about being instructed by John at the gym. Carl had sadistically ripped away the Confederate flag from Peter’s denim jacket, and the rectangular spot didn’t look impressive, but the weather forced Peter to wear a warmer (rather humdrum) jacket anyhow. The temperature outdoors was burning cold, and it hurt in their cheeks when they returned indoors. * * * Aram arrived late to the gym. ’Sorry. I had to spend some time with Emelie. She was upset. Did you see Emma’s bruise earlier today? No? Anderson had beat her yesterday, and Emelie tried to persuade Emma to leave him, but Emma is stubborn. What a nasty piece of work Anderson is: Disagreeable and nefarious!’ Peter looked on the floor, already dressed for workout, but in cheaper equipment than John and Carl. ’You are much better than me with words’, John said, froze, and stared at Aram silently. Aram stared back. ’Than I am’, Aram answered with some hesitation. ’What is it?’, asked Carl, but John and Aram changed subject. Fifteen minutes later, they stood at the cable stand. ’You have probably seen people train their pecs with cable handles up here, but if you lower these, your chest will actually have to work much harder to press the handles together, especially if you don’t bend your arms.’ ’Yes… Uh. Nrrrgh. Definitely much more resistance…’, Aram noticed, red in his face. ’Seven. Eight. Nine. Uh.’ ’But it doesn't feel like usual. I miss something.’, Carl remarked a minute later. ’The idea is’, John explained, ’to let this part work harder.’ John pressed his fingers on the insides of Carls now very hardworking pecs. He then put his fingers in Carl’s armpits, and nodded in the direction of the dumbbell press. ’These parts of the muscles will get their share of the workout in the next exercise over there.’ Carl shouted, and dropped the cable handles with a noise. ’I am ticklish. Never do that again’, Carl said, and disappeared towards the locker room. * * * The winter night shrouded the slopes and the flats in darkness, but the crusty snow on the lawns reflected the light from the street lamps and the moon. The caretakers had obviously spread another amount of salt during the preceding day, since the ice had melted on the pathway, and the moist asphalt surface peeked out from the surrounding snow, like a snake with black scales. Peter had left them in the older corner of the area as usual, and the other two had left Aram by the stairs to his family’s flat. Aram watched the white clouds of his own breath, watched the sky, noticed the upcoming conjunction between two planets he had read about in a scientific magazine, and went indoors, the bag on his shoulder. His mother was not at home: Probably giving an introductory language course to newly arrived Syrian refugees. His sister probably visited friends. He warmed some chicken in the oven and some lentils in the microwave oven, and ate absentmindedly in the kitchen, before returning to his room. He had just opened the computer file of a composition about mithocondriae, when something strange struck him. He felt dizzy and exhilarated. It felt like reality circled around him for a second, he felt a rush of information streaming inside his head, and he found himself in a state of analytical clarity beyond what he had longed for. He was sure he hadn’t understood all these mathematical proofs just a minute ago, but he could also remember how he gradually had achieved this insight for several years. He looked at the candle from Madame Cremorna’s. Burnt out and empty of wax since several weeks. He sat silent for a long time, trying to regain composure, went out to the kitchen for some tea. Holding the warm jug of tea between his hands, he took an educated guess about what probably had happened. It was probably a good idea to wait a few minutes before calling John on the phone. * * * ’Carl. There is something I want to talk to you about, but we haven’t had a good chance until now.’ They sat in John’s room. John sat on his adjustable chair. Carl sat on John’s bed. It was the sort of week when John’s mother worked night at the home for the aged, and John’s father was away playing floorball with workmates after work. ’Sure. Something political? Something about music?’ ’No. No, nothing like that. Eh. Uhm. Something strange happened when we were on our way home from that concert.’ ’Nothing I noticed. I slept all the way home. Didn’t wake up until the car stopped in the parking lot.’ ’You didn’t dream something strange?’ ’Can’t say that I did. Not something I remember anyway.’ John fell silent. Then he took the matchbox, and lit the novena candle in the window. It was Tuesday, after all. Within a minute the scent from the oil mixed with the candlewax was noticeable in the room. ’I want to tell you a secret. Aram bought that candle to me last autumn. You know: The church his family belongs to is into saints and things. The idea is that it will bring… Bring good luck, in a way.’ ’You know that I am as agnostic as you are. There is no way to prove the supernatural, neither a way to disprove it. It’s just meaningless. I’m not like the hardcore Atheists, ranting about sky fairies and spaghetti monsters, but whatever may or may not exist – if something supernatural exist, it will be so complicated that no human book would be able to describe that something, so I prefer to relax and not spend time on the subject. There’s a world out there to make better. I'm not a bloody hippie.’ John picked a book from his thinly populated bookshelf. He waved with it before Carl: Bodybuilding: A Handbook. ’May I discuss some of today’s exercises?’ ’Sure. Why not?’ John sat down beside Carl at the bed, and began to explain. He was probably ten minutes into the discussion, when he felt a strange heat inside. He rose and opened the window. ’What are you doing? It’s bloody cold outside. Don’t let that cold air inside.’ John closed the window again. The flame of the candle flickered. John could see that there wasn’t much candlewax left. He returned to the bed. ’I feel funny. Don’t you feel the heat?’ ’Heat? The windows’ got good insulation, and the radiators are working, but you can’t call this heat. What’s the matter? Do you feel ill?’ A worried expression John hadn’t seen before spread over Carl’s face. John reclined on the bed, with Carl sitting close to his knees. ’It feels better now. But it still feels funny. In a good way.’ A pleasant feeling filled his back, and continued to spread. ’Mmm. In a really good way.’ The feeling filled his traps, and continued to his pecs. ’Are you okey?’ ’Mmm. Oh. Umm. Yes, I’m okey. It…’ The feeling changed into a burning feeling in his abs, and he felt how a strange but pleasant feeling of hardness filled his shoulders and his quads. ’Oh. Carl. Do you see it, or is it just my imagination?’ ’See what?’ It now filled him entirely, from the stubble on his head to his fingers and toes. It was different from the subtle changes at the other times, it was… ’John. I can’t believe this. It looks like you are growing.’ John moaned, and then arched with a short scream. He tensed his biceps, and felt how he tensed his pecs. The fabric of his t-shirt couldn’t take the strain anymore. With a ripping sound, Johns growing biceps split the short sleeves of the shirt apart, while his growing shoulders and neck tore asunder the rest of the shirt. ’It’s bloody unbelievable, John. It’s like a frigging dream. Do you feel alright?’ ’So good… So good… Yes. Yes. It’s happening.’ The flame of the candle flickered, consumed the last remains of the oily wax, and went out with a silent puff. ’IT’S HAPPENING!!!’ John felt how his body convulsed in a pleasant way. ’Uhnnn. Uhnnn. Oh yes… Uhnnn. More!’ Carl was rigid with fear. And something else. Then, he reached out his hand towards John’s chest, and touched John’s growing left pec. With a sigh and a smile, John’s growing right arm grabbed Carl around his waist, and let Carl fall with his face on John’s pecs. A few seconds he struggled, and then relaxed. John could feel a kiss on his left pec. John let his left hand caress the stubble on the backside of Carl’s head. John could hear Carl mumble: ’I’m fucking dreaming. This is unreal.’ ’If it is a dream, you are free to do whatever you would like to do in a dream’, John answered, but whatever he had tried to say was abruptly cut off by another wave of growth. He moaned and groaned of pleasure. ’Oh, yeah. Grow for me mate. My best friend becoming a bruiser… Oh. This is so good. These mountains of power…’ Carl sat on John’s groin, touching John’s biceps with his hands. ’Oooh.’ Carl leaned forward and kissed John’s right bicep, and then licked it. ’Oooh. It’s still growing. You are still… Oh. This is so good.’ John felt how he became hard down there too. Carl must have noticed. He slide from the bed, removed his shirt and trousers, and then began to remove John’s trousers, but they were stuck on John’s large and still growing calves. ’Oooh. Uhn. Mmmm. Yes.’, John deliriously exclaimed. Carl gave up his attempt to remove John’s trousers, and directed his concentration on John’s shoulders, grabbing one with each hand, whimpering lustfully at the touch. ’Oh. My buddy, the warrior. My mate, the hero. My friend, the… the war god. This is so bloody good. So fucking unreal. So, ummm.’ John’s mobile phone rang, but they were both too excited to notice. Carl’s steel hard rod, although still decked by pants, had touched John’s bulging and steel hard abs, and he shivered at the sensation. Another lustful whimpering escaped his mouth. John could feel Carl rubbing his groin against John’s abs, and it felt good. He was able to drive his friend crazy of admiration. Another wave filled him. He bellowed, and distantly felt how his calves split the seams of his trousers, releasing him from any restraining clothes. His dick found its way between Carl’s thighs. Carl moaned. John looked up on Carl, smiled and tensed both his biceps. Carl held his breath, and something began to pulsate wildly inside Carl’s pants. Again. And again. And again. The last stages of John’s transformation were still going on, when Carl regained the similitude of awareness of his surroundings. Veins began to cover John’s chest, legs and biceps, and all muscles protruded well-defined in a manner suitable for the best junior bodybuilders. A blissful smile was upon John’s face, his eyes closed. He breathed quickly. Carl readjusted his position, and sat between John’s knees, grabbed John’s rod with his right hand, and pulled it a few times. It didn’t need much encouragement, until it ecstatically exploded in his grip, and pulsated in a powerful ultra-masculine way between his fingers and his palm. In a voice, deeper than before, John asked Carl: ’Why didn’t you tell me before?’ * * * Chapter Four is here, but doesn't contain any growth: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13032-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-four/
  16. This is a continuation of a very long, very involved, multi-character story-world. As such, many of the concepts and actions won't be fully explained. It is assumed you're already familiar with the Transformation series and mythos. Though the title reads (Part1) this thread will eventually contain all chapters currently written. PART 1 YEAR ONE September It seemed like a long way, but it was only two flights of stairs to get to Barry’s new dorm room on campus. Starting college was both an opportunity for excitement and trepidation. Eighteen years old and out of the house for the first time. He wondered if he’d like being so far from home, but was looking forward to the freedom and the chance to discover himself without his parents or his old group of friend’s preconceptions and expectations. He had an overstuffed backpack on his shoulders, and two large suitcases followed behind him as he pulled them up the stairs one at a time. He wasn’t a small dude, but he wasn’t some scholarship-toting football hero, either. Six-feet tall in his stocking feet, lanky from a summer spent doing yard work around the neighborhood to help pay off the student loan that granted him access to this college, Barry had what was referred to by some as a ‘swimmer’s build,’ though nowhere near as streamlined as a certain pot-smoking Olympian. He was drenched with sweat as he reached his floor, his thin GAP T-shirt clinging tenaciously to his torso, and he danced around the other trunks, duffels and suitcases of everyone else moving in at the same time that lined the slender hallway. It was an old college, and not exactly swimming in money. They still had separate dormitories for the boys and the girls, and these were quite full. Barry would be doubling up with someone for the year, and he was also split about his feelings on that subject. Would he be stuck with some lead-headed juice monkey or maybe a semi-braindead trust fund baby just killing time until daddy handed over the reins to the family fortune? Why was he always thinking the worst about people? Maybe his roommate would be totally cool, like he was, and totally into 30 Rock and Doctor Who and the Final Four and watching movies so bad they’re good. Maybe they’d get along fine and become best friends and share homework and shit like that? Why did he always immediately think everyone else was such a jerk? His room was ludicrously small. There was barely room for two beds, let alone two occupants and all their stuff. He knew it was a bad idea packing so much shit. Half his junk would probably never even make it out of the suitcase! He pushed through the doorway and dragged his luggage inside, shoving it around behind the door before he collapsed in a sweaty, tired heap on one of the beds. The building was echoing with the sounds of his new male classmates all shoving their own collections of junk around, greeting each other, making new friends, bargaining for beds and figuring out that the in-room bathrooms did not include showers, which were communal and located at the end of each floor. It was a bit like living in a YMCA, only with more walls and less religion. Still, a contented smile wound across his lips and he sighed. He was here. In college. At last. He was overcome with a sudden tiredness and wondered if he could just lie there and take a short catnap before dealing with unpacking when he could feel the bed shake under his body. In fact, it seemed as if the entire floor was shaking, if not the entire building. It was a subtle, constant thudding, like the steady pounding of of some equipment shoving pylons into the ground. Then it abated somewhat and fell to a duller thud. It grew a bit stronger as he lay there, his eyes closed, concentrating on the sensation and wondering what the hell it was when he almost-siesta was interrupted by a voice asking, “Is this 302?” The voice was absurdly resounding, like the rumble of a bear awoken from a winter’s sleep and none too happy about it. Low, deep and powerful, it was a voice that comes from a man, not a college-bound boy, and it made Barry’s eyes snap open and he sat up quickly, as if called to attention. In the doorway—in fact, blocking the entire space and then some—stood the largest person that Barry had ever met with. The man’s shoulders stretched so wide that he was turned slightly sideways just to fit. He was ducking his head, because he looked like he was approaching seven feet in height. And everything about him, from every angle and every inch of his huge, wide, thick body was bulging outward as if he had been inflated, but the man was not fat by any means. It was perfectly clear from the way his clothes gripped his body that it was all muscle. Barry felt his heart beat faster, though whether it was from fear or excitement was hard to judge. He looked up the immense body toward the face, and was a bit staggered to see such a youthful, handsome visage mounted on that brutal musclebound frame. The face had a smile on its lips, and its eyes were bright blue. A scruff of beard, maybe a two- or three-day’s growth, dusted his strong jaw and chin, and an unkempt shock of straw-blonde hair erupted on his head like the sun’s rays. “Is this 302?” he asked again. He was holding a piece of paper in one hand. The other gripped the strap of a nylon duffle slung over one of his massive shoulders. “Yeah,” Barry said softly. The hulk moved into the room, nearly fully occupying what was not already occupied, stuck the piece of paper between his teeth—white as chalk and perfectly straight—and pushed his hand forward in greeting. “Mtm,” he said. Barry wrinkled his brow and looked at the broad, huge paw. It lead up to a ham-sized forearm with more muscles than Barry thought there were in an entire body, and a network of thick veins like a river’s tributaries over a mountain range. Further up the arm, the dude’s biceps and triceps erupted like boulders on a landscape of bronze. The dude reached back to take the paper from between his lips and repeated, “I’m Tim. I think I’m your new roommate.” “Oh,” Barry said. “I’m Barry.” “Cool,” Tim answered. “That the bed you want?” “I didn’t really…” “‘Cause you kind of sweated all over it,” Tim observed. “Not that I care, but it seems kind of like you’ve already marked your territory.” His smile increased in wattage, creating dimples in his sculpted cheeks and crow’s feet next to his blue eyes. His beard, made of the same golden hair that topped his regal head, seemed almost to sparkle is it adjusted itself across the squared contours of his masculine countenance. “I wasn’t… I didn’t… no, no, if you want this one, I mean, I wouldn’t….” “No sweat,” Tim answered, “if you’ll pardon the pun.” He hefted the duffle off his shoulder and casually tossed it onto the other bed. “Small, huh?” Barry looked down at himself. “Small room,” Tim clarified. “You look just fine.” “I… uh…” “Not big on conversation, huh? That’s okay. I usually talk enough for two people, anyway. At least, that’s what my friends used to say.” He suddenly stuck one hand behind his head and stretched his entire frame, arching his back and pushing his prominent and awesome pectoral shelf forward. It made the tight shirt he wore ride up his torso and exposed a 4-pack of his 6-pack, which looked about as well-developed and deeply defined as any that Barry had ever seen. What did this guy do, live at the gym? “That the head?” “Head?” Barry’s eyes had been drawn to Tim’s mid-section, but now they went back up the man’s incredible body to find his face again. Tim nodded to the left and asked, “Bathroom?” “Oh. Yeah.” Tim grinned and reached down, unbuckling his belt and pulling his jeans open. “Gotta take care of some business,” he said. “Long trip, y’know?” “Yeah,” Barry said, “sure.” “Um, are you gonna stick around?” Tim was pulling each button of his fly open with a slow obviousness, as if illustrating some point. It drew Barry’s attention back down the other man’s body and he realized that Tim not only wasn’t wearing any underwear, he also owned what could be described as a fucking beast of a dick that was insistently pushing against the overburdened basket of his jeans. Pop! went another button. The glistening crown of golden pubes emerged. Pop! The sleek, sweaty shank of Tim’s shaft could be seen. His cock adjusted itself, extending along his hip. “What?” Barry asked, mesmerized by the sheer size of the other man’s equipment. “Could you watch my stuff?” “Watch?” Pop! Another button undone. His shaft was thick and crimson and fat. “My stuff,” Time explained. Then he waved his hand at Barry’s face to get his attention again, and gestured at the duffel bag on the other bed. “While I relieve myself.” “Sure,” Barry answered. Tim’s pants were pulled open. His cock was still lodged inside, so long that it extended inches along his hip. His pelvis was flat and his pubic bush was thick. Just how fucking big was he? “Thanks, I’ll only be a few minutes. Sometimes takes a little while to, you know, drain the snake.” Then he turned—holy shit, even his butt looked like it was made of muscle—and retreated into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Only then did Barry’s head clear, and he noticed a particular and peculiar scent in the room. It was rank and slightly musky, reminding him mostly of a locker room or, weirdly, the smell of a sweaty jockstrap. He hadn’t noticed it until Tim was no longer in sight, but now that he was gone the smell was distinct. The big man’s movements as he did whatever he had to do in the little bathroom sounded a bit like a bull trying to maneuver inside a closet. Hard thumps and deep crunches, accompanied by grunts and moans, exited the bathroom. Then everything fell silent for a few heartbeats and Barry waited for the familiar sound of water splashing into water as his new roommate ‘relieved himself.’ At first there was no sound at all. The smell in the room was growing subtly stronger, though, and Barry realized that it was getting hotter, now, which was odd considering his shirt was still cool against his skin with his sweat, and he’d had a chance to calm down from his stair climbing. But it was growing perceptibly warmer, and oddly it felt not like the room was growing hotter, but that Barry’s skin was. He swallowed into a dry throat and felt the shorthairs on the back of his neck tingle. His hands were clammy and his upper lip began to sweat. A familiar but surprising sense of sexual throbbing erupted in his cock and spread outward, pushing up the length of his prick and licking the head. He felt his balls move and his cock started growing hard and thick in his jeans. He reached down to adjust himself and realized his was growing erect, though he wasn’t sure why. Now some new sounds were coming from the bathroom. Slick, wet, stroking sounds, accompanied by Tim’s low, powerful voice whispering or moaning something unintelligible, though it sounded like ‘yeah’ or ‘god yeah’ or ‘fuck yeah.’ “Are...are you okay?” Barry asked. He was uncomfortably warm, himself, and his cock was now pushing with painful urgency against his zipper. He had an almost overwhelming desire to pull it out and start jerking off, even with the dorm room door standing open and a parade of dorm occupants streaming by. “Are you...are you hot?” There was a pause in the noise from inside the bathroom. “Hot?” Tim asked. “It feels… it feels hot for some reason.” Another pause. “Well...it is still summer.” “Yeah,” Barry answered. “Not that kind of hot.” “Oh,” Tim replied. “Um, just a minute, I’m nearly ther...done.” “No problem,” Barry said, rubbing his palm across the hard contour of his hard-on. “Fuck,” he whispered. He’d never felt so horny for no known reason in his life. His whole body felt good. And his cock was rock-hard. More slick noises from the bathroom. The heat grew stronger, still. Barry was sweating again, this time without having to haul any luggage up any stairs. His cock was huge in his pants, a thick shank of sex meat that needed attention. Tim’s voice grew silent as the heat continued to increase. Barry felt a surging release of precum erupt up the length of his prick and tickle the tip with its wet warmth. Suddenly, Tim groaned with evident satisfaction and the wet stroking sound turned into something more like licking or lapping, as if he had an ice cream cone in there and was trying desperately to finish it all. At the same moment, Barry’s sense of sexual overload peaked and he arched his head and let out a soft moan and found himself achieving orgasm without ever having even touched himself. A sudden cascade of wet warmth accompanied the exquisite orgasmic release inside his pants, and the heat of sex turned into the heat of embarrassment. His cock jerked a half-dozen times and he could feel the warm, sticky load in his pants bathe his hard-on and his balls before draining over his taint and dripping around his asshole. It grew cooler as it travelled, and he was only slightly relieved when he saw that there was no outward evidence that he had just now, somehow, spontaneously cum inside his jeans. Now that he had achieved orgasm, the heat was dissipating and his cock was growing mercifully limp once again. He could hear movement inside the bathroom and he pivoted quickly on the bed so that his back was to the door when it opened, and he could feel the looming presence of his new gargantuan roommate as he re-entered the room. “Sorry about that,” he said with his powerful voice. “I guess I wasn’t quite as prepared as I thought I was.” • • • • June “Timothy Balmer.” Hearing his name sent a tingle of excitement and fear through Tim’s huge, muscular form. He was grinning foolishly as he stepped up to the podium where Mr. Titus stood, a diploma in one hand and the other offered openly, waiting to shake one of his graduating student’s hands. Tim, like the other members of Mr. Titus’s rather unusual class, wore no robes or miter. None of them had been allowed to participate in the usual graduation ceremony, for obvious but unfair reasons, so they elected to wear their customary school uniform—being no clothing at all. The entire graduating class of The Muscle Club, some two dozen naked young men with bodies overwhelmed with bulging masses of brawn, some with thick carpets of fur, others bare, but every one of them gifted with a set of sexual equipment that would put any porn star to shame, stood within the converted gymnasium that had become their home away from home. It was here where they had received their educations after their bodies had changed so dramatically—growing as huge and as strong as their unstoppable and constant libidos—and it was here where they were going to leave their high school behind and start their adult lives. Mr. Titus was wearing a dapper suit of navy blue that almost fit his own well-muscled form, perhaps out of deference to his position as teacher, or perhaps in an attempt to hide the way in which his own body mirrored the superhuman levels of muscular and sexual development of his students. The collar of his shirt was open, and his tie was only loosely tied around his gargantuan neck. The other buttons of the dress shirt only barely hung on, stretched to their limit by the sheer thickness and width of his massive pectoral shelf. Tim reached forward with both hands, accepting the certificate of high school graduation in one and Mr. Titus’s firm, warm, welcoming grip in the other. “Congratulations,” his teacher said, the man’s voice a deep and powerful rumble like the movement of the earth. Tim’s face broke into a wide and beautiful smile and he shook the other man’s hand with pride. “Thanks!” He said it, and he meant it. Without Mr. Titus, none of them would be here today. No other teacher even bothered with them, anymore. And none seemed to give a damn except this man, whose pride of his students was shining on his handsome face. Tim performed a small bow of his head and stepped away from the podium, accompanied by the applause and cat calls of his fellow graduates. “Go, Timebomb!” “Woohoo! It’s the bomb!” “Fuckin’ A, Timebomb!” It would take hours—maybe even days—before Tim’s foolish grin left his face. If the ceremony itself had not been the sedate affair that the other graduates had enjoyed, the graduation celebration that followed was even less so. There were only a couple dozen of the members of Muscle Club present, but they made the best of their final hours together. Certainly, they had the entire summer to enjoy, but there would be less opportunity for them all to be together like this. The orgy that manifested was epic. Though these super-muscled, super-sexed and super-handsome young men had very little in the way of personal walls to be breached in the form of sexual congress in the first place, all and any of those walls came crashing down as they thrust, sucked, rasped, licked, jerked, kissed, fingered and fucked their way to a form of sexual nirvana that would be remembered for a long time—or at least until the next graduating class. It was a wonder that the gymnasium itself didn’t melt as the heat of passion and sex filled it to overflowing, and the grunts and moans and shouts of orgasmic bliss echoed from it until dawn. Some weeks later, and Tim was ready to leave the small town where he had lived all his life so far, venturing to the college a few states away where he had been accepted. Luckily for him, the college knew nothing about his unique physical attributes or the unusual education he had received in high school. They only cared about his transcripts and the tuition he was paying them, and had no idea what they were bringing into their campus. “Are you sure about this?” Mr. Titus asked, one last time. “I’m not entirely certain that going off alone is a good idea.” Tim shrugged. “Maybe not, but it’s where I’ve wanted to go—even before I joined The Club. I… I think I can handle it.” ‘Handle it’ meant being away from the support of his brother in Muscle Club, support that was not only emotional and sexual, but the kind of support that he wouldn’t have at all on his own. His body now craved the constant physical attentions that only the other young men in The Club could understand—and perform. His body was an overheated sexual machine, capable of constant erections and non-stop orgasmic pleasure. How could he survive the onslaught of his libido and his body’s constant need without the support of his brothers? And could he somehow curtail himself and his desires when thrust into an environment where there were so many worthy targets of his lust and his abilities to transform other young men into a being like himself? “I’m sure you can,” Billy Titus said, and if he was feeling any doubt, he did not let it into his voice. “I’d feel better, though, if there was another Muscle Club member to accompany you.” Tim shrugged again. Most of the graduating class was staying put, unwilling or unable to part with the support and attention of the other guys. Only a few of them had elected to leave, and Tim would be the only Muscle Club graduate venturing off alone into the world. “I’ll come back as much as I can,” he said. “You know I can’t stay away from the guys for too long.” Billy nodded. “I do know,” he said. Then, uncharacteristically and quite surprisingly, Billy leaned forward and kissed Tim on the mouth quite passionately. Tim was shocked at first—Mr. Titus was always very careful not to engage in any type of shenanigans with his students, much to their disappointment and constant harassment. But Tim wasn’t his student anymore, and Billy kissed him with eager and unabated passion. It was a very good kiss. Tim could feel it to his toes. It was an open ‘secret’ that Billy and another of his students, the buzz-cut blonde named Carl, were engaged in an on-going tryst, and Tim suddenly felt a strong pang of jealousy toward the dude if this was the kind of passion that smoldered so deeply inside the teacher. Fuck, if he had to curtail his own lusts, he supposed his kisses would feel like this, too. He kissed him back, feeling a growing sense of urgency and passion building within him, but the kiss ended and Billy slapped his ass hard. “Something to remember me by,” he said with a wink. “Holy fuck,” Tim whispered. “That was intense.” Regret crept into his head as he looked at the other man, but then Billy Titus smiled and walked away, leaving Tim standing at the bus stop with a monster hard-on throbbing in his jeans. • • • • September “Sorry about that,” Tim said, “I guess I wasn’t quite as prepared as I thought I was.” “No problem,” Barry answered. “I...uh...are you done? ‘Cause I kind of have to use the john myself.” “Yeah,” Tim answered. “I’m done.” Barry felt a hand grip his shoulder and squeeze slightly. “How about you? Are you done?” “Am I done what?” “I didn’t tell you my nickname, did I?” “No.” “We all get nicknames in the Club. Sometimes it’s based on what you look like, or something you do. My nickname is Timebomb. Kind of a joke on my name—Tim Balmer. But it’s also because...could you turn around, Barry? Feels kind of weird talking to the back of your head.” “I’d rather not,” Barry admitted. “It’s okay,” Tim said, soothingly. “I think I know what happened.” “Nothing happened.” “If we’re going to be roommates, it’s become suddenly clear that I have to be a lot more honest with you than I intended.” His hand disappeared from Barry’s shoulder. He was closing the dorm room door and the sound of his bulk sitting on the bed echoed through the otherwise quiet room. “I was kind of hoping that some of this wouldn’t come up, that I could keep it a secret or something, but I guess when you’re going to spending time this close to me I should probably be honest with you.” “What are you talking about?” “The Club. And me. And the timebomb.” “I thought you were the timebomb.” “Both,” Tim admitted. “You felt it, right?” “What do you mean?” “Can you turn around, Barry? Really, this is pretty weird talking to you like this.” “I really want to go to the bathroom first.” “Because you just came in your pants.” Barry blushed a fierce red. Tim could even see it on his neck. “Yeah, I kind of knew that. And it’s my fault.” “How could it be…?” “The timebomb. The reason I’m called that. It because when I go off, everyone feels it.” The hand was back, gentle but insistent. “Really, Barry, turn around. This is important if you and me are gonna be friends. And I hope we can be friends, because I have a feeling I’m going to need some really quickly.” Barry pivoted on the bed. Tim was shirtless. Tim was a god. Tim’s body was beyond perfect, beyond powerful, beyond anything Barry expected or conceived. Muscle everywhere. Thick plates, fat bulges, keenly defined and powerfully huge. Tim looked like some comic book superhero in the flesh. His pecs were like broad pillows of power mounted on his wide upper body. Lobes of muscle stood out starkly on his shoulders. He owned a belly of incredible cobblestones—not a six-pack but an eight-pack, with every thick bulge of muscle in perfect alignment. His cock had been repositioned inside his pants, but it crawled down one leg nearly to his knee. It stood up like a tube of thick muscle all on its own. And if the man owned an ounce of fat, it was nowhere to be seen. “This is me. I’m kind of...special.” “You’re a truman?” He shook his head. “Something else. Not sure what I am, but I’m not one of those guys. I’m not super-human. Can’t fly. Can’t do all that other crazy shit. I’m just...big.” “Everywhere,” Barry said, eyeing the other man’s enormous prick. Tim smiled. “Yeah, well, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, owning something that big. But the other part is the thing you felt just now. The timebomb.” “I don’t understand.” Tim shrugged. His whole collection of awesome brawn shifted and flexed as if to display the size and shape of every individual and perfectly developed muscle. “Me neither. Believe me, if I knew how to control it I would. And when I was back home, and hanging out with the other guys, it didn’t seem to be a problem. But I guess…” His blue gaze shifted south and he bit his bottom lip. “I guess it is.” Barry swallowed. The load in his pants was growing increasingly cold and sticky. “I… I guess I understand, sort of. I mean, I know about the truman—who doesn’t? But, honestly, I’d really like to clean myself up.” “I...okay. I understand.” Barry stood up and walked gingerly over to his suitcase to retrieve a fresh pair of underwear and another pair of jeans. “Does this happen every time you…?” “Every time I come? Yeah, pretty much. Trouble is, I...um...so, what do you know about trumans?” “They’re big, like you are. Huge, in fact. Bigger than you, I guess. And like you said, supposedly they can fly, have super-strength, all these other powers. They used to run some gyms but now those are all gone, too. You can find pictures and videos of some of ‘em online, occasionally someone sees one of them in person, but they mostly keep to themselves and try to stay out of the limelight. Not sure why or what happened. One day they’re everywhere, next day they’re nowhere. Like they all just disappeared.” “Right, and that’s all I know too.” As Tim spoke, Barry went into the bathroom to change. “But the guys who started this thing I’m in, those guys weren’t trumans. They said they found something online and used that, said it was probably related to the trumans but they never really explained it. And then those two guys invited some other guys to share the discovery and they started growing muscle, too. And then things just kind of snowballed from there. Back in my hometown, there are probably a few dozen of us now. And…” He paused when Barry reappeared. “And that’s about all there is to it.” “Not all there is.” “Yeah, all….” “The timebomb?” “Oh. Well, I think that’s just me. Something I can do. Or, I guess, something that happens. I mean, the other guys, they can do something similar but it takes a bit of concentration. Whatever happens when I...get excited...that’s just me.” “And you can’t control it?” “I thought I was,” he complained. His voice was a low rumble. His face looked honestly disturbed and apologetic. “I guess with the other guys, they were immune, or maybe I’m toning it down but I can’t turn it off. Honestly, Barry, I’m really sorry about that. I really didn’t think anything would happen.” “Well, I mean, truthfully it isn’t the worst feeling. It was just...kind of...shocking.” Tim nodded, looking abashed and embarrassed. The expression was in sharp contrast to his body, which still insisted on looking incredibly powerful and perfectly developed. Barry had never seen a chest that big. Or arms that thick. Or shoulders that wide. “So it happens every time you…?” Tim nodded. “Well,” he started, slowly looking up, “um, really? I can do that any time I want to. It’s just that when I’m jerking off or...whatever...it seems to happen whether I want it to or not.” “You can make it happen any time you want to?” Tim nodded slowly. “To anyone?” “Any guy,” he said. “Only guys.” “So, I’m just sitting here, and you can do that?” Tim nodded again. “Like the first time?” Tim smiled and shook his head. “A lot better,” he said, almost proudly. “And a lot stronger.” “Stronger than that?” “A lot stronger.” “But you were in another room and I couldn’t even see you and I came in my Levi’s.” “Yeah,” Tim agreed. “A lot stronger.” Barry’s eyes narrowed. “Prove it.” Tim looked askance. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking.” “You said you could do it any time you wanted to, to any other guy.” Tim nodded again. “Okay, do it to me, now. I just came, I am not feeling horny at all,” which was a lie, because there was definitely something about Tim which was making him feel really rather horny, “and you said you could make anyone…” “How hard?” “How hard what?” “How hard do you want to come?” “How hard can you make me come?” “Let’s say on a scale of 1 to 10, when I was in there and suppressing the timebomb and you were out here creaming your jeans, that was a 2.” “Fuck me,” Barry said. “You’re lying.” Tim tilted his head. “Did you want to ruin those pants, too?” “You’re gonna do it?” “If you want me to, why should I refuse?” He leaned back on his elbows as the bed complained with sharp creaks. The muscles along his belly stretched out and his chest spread as wide as the prairie. “You gonna take off your pants or not?” Barry stood up. What the fuck, right? Two guys in their dorm room. They were gonna see each other naked anyway. And he’d already pretty much seen everything Tim had to offer. And he was never much of a prude, anyway. He unzipped and shoved his pants and underwear off in one plunge. “Shirt, too,” Tim advised. “My shirt?” “You’re gonna have a five, right?” Barry nodded. “Shirt, too.” He stripped it off. Tim’s eyes scanned the naked form before him. “Do you want it fast or slow?” “What does that mean?” “That means that I can make you explode right now like a rocket going off and I just pushed the button, or I can percolate you until you can’t stop yourself and you go off like a volcano with too much lava in your tube.” “Slow? I guess?” “Excellent answer. I like doing it slow. It helps me...finesse the results.” “And what does that…” Tim interrupted the question. “Every guy is different. Some guys need a lot of stroking, other guys not so much. Some guys need to be pushed pretty hard, and some guys are already standing on the edge of the cliff with one foot over the edge. Doing it slow means I can ramp up the power. If I do it fast, my idea of a five might be your idea of a nine, and that could be messy.” “What’s a ten?” Tim smiled again, narrowing his eyes. “Not everyone can handle a ten. My buds back home can, of course. Fuck, some of them guys probably need a twelve or a fifteen or something. But a ten is, well, it takes some personal hands-on. I can do up to a seven easy, just sitting here. Anything more than that means that you and I would need to be a lot better acquainted than we are now, me over here and you over there.” “Oh. So, a five is good then.” “Five is excellent. Believe me, you’ll be more than satisfied with a five.” “When does it start?” “Already has,” he said. “Should I...do something?” “Do whatever you feel like doing. But no, you don’t have to do anything. I can do it all.” “You can get me off just by…” He suddenly went silent, because the heat was back on his skin, and the smell was back in his nostrils. It felt almost as if something else had entered the room with them, something invisible that surrounded Barry’s naked flesh and slipped its arms around his body. “Yeah,” Tim said softly. “we’re on our way.” Barry swallowed and kept his eyes on Tim, looking for any physical changes and if the guy was gonna do something to him. But Tim was just lying there, half-naked on his bed, lounging on the covers as his eyes traveled around Barry’s body. It felt...good. Whatever was happening, it felt warm and comfortable. “Is that it?” Tim shook his head. “You said do it slowly. I’m doing it slowly.” He licked his lips. “You want it faster?” “I guess? I mean, it feels good but...oh, shit.” A sudden hard pulse struck him all at once, coating his body in heat. His cock involuntarily jerked and throbbed. The feeling of something embracing him in its strong arms increased. He felt something on his neck. He felt something on his legs, stroking the skin. The sensation crawled up higher and higher and circled around and approached his ass. “Oh, fuck,” he said softly, smiling as he looked at Tim. “Yeah,” the other young man said, “it only gets better from here. Tell me, Barry, do you have any...sort of...walls I should know about?” “What...oh, fuck, yeah…what kind of walls?” “Like, if I did this…” Barry sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils and went up on the balls of his feet. A distinct sensation was lapping at his asshole. Something hot and wet was there. Something fleshy and supple and talented was lapping at his butthole. “...would that be okay?” Barry nodded that it would. “And if this happened,” Tim explained, as shocks of intense sexual pleasure erupted from both of Barry’s nipples simultaneously, deep, hard throbs of electric sex that traveled through his naked body and emerged into his prick, inflating it with a shocking suddenness that made the skin grow taught and the heat surrounding it swell. “Would that put you off at all?” “N-n-no,” Barry admitted. His hands balled into fists. Sweat trickled down his back and found its way to the crack of his ass. It seemed to sizzle as it licked his asshole, as if whatever was already there was waiting for its arrival. “Are you having fun, Barry?” Tim’s deep voice asked. He nodded, unable to speak. Everything felt good. His cock was at half-mast. His balls throbbed and swelled. The tingles of sex at his nipples shocked like electric sockets. The hot, wet tongue lapping at his asshole pushed for entry. “Good. We’re at a three now. This is what three feels like.” It felt very, very good. “Are you ready to go to four?” Barry nodded. He felt a quick surge of precum in his cock. “Okay, Barry.” Another sudden surge hit him hard. His cock inflated with painful suddenness. He almost came. A shuddering breath entered his overheated body. The tongue he could feel between his ass cheeks turned firmer and wetter and plunged into his ass. Cascades of sexual bliss showered his body like hot water. “Hmm, not sure we can go to five, Barry. You’re looking very primed right now.” Barry opened his mouth and said, “Please.” Fuck, he felt good. He stood there, naked, with no one touching him at all, and it was already the best sex he ever felt. “No need to beg, Barry. I’m more than happy to do this.” Barry opened his eyes and looked at the form that lay prone across the other bed. Tim had pulled open his pants again and extracted the monster cock he owned. It towered up from between his legs, easily a foot high and probably longer than that. It was overwhelmed with veins and shiny. The head was as big as a plum and the shaft was hard and thick. He was rubbing the helmet as if calling forth a genie. A gushing flow of clear honey was draining along the crimson shank, but Tim was looking at Barry, not at the majesty of his own mammoth prick. “This feels good, doesn’t it Barry?” A sudden thick cascade of bliss melted over Barry’s body. “And this?” The firm, wet, warm tongue pushed into his asshole, nudging his prostate with gorgeous perfect pleasure. “And this?” A throbbing, incandescent heat enveloped his cock, like the tightest, wettest, most perfect pussy in the world. “That’s both of us, Barry. Me giving it to you. You giving it back. Then both of us sharing.” “How…?”
 “Watch, Barry. Watch this.” His cock began growing. The shaft expanded. The tip stretched taller. The head bloomed. “Aw, fuck, Barry. Yeah. This feels amazing. You want to go to five? You want to go there together? Are you ready, Barry, my man?” He nodded, watching Tim’s cock grow, watching the other man pleasure himself, feeling a perfect state of sexual bliss enveloping his naked body. “Here it comes, Barry. I hope you’re ready for it. There’s no going back now.” Tim closed his eyes. He arched his head back. He opened his mouth, his full, supple lips, and his mammoth, muscular chest rose and spread as he pulled a deep breath into his gorgeous and perfect body. Then he moved his hand down the biggest prick Barry had ever seen and released a deep, resounding growl of sexual power. Barry came. He came hard. His whole body seemed to want to pass through his cock. His balls seized up and his lungs emptied and he was thrust into an oven of sex, a sensation so strong that it overwhelmed everything else and he grabbed his hard, massive, monster cock and shoved out thick ropes of cream over and over. He gasped and groaned and nearly blacked out from the sheer intensity of his orgasm. It felt like he came for minutes. It felt like his cock was exploding with pure sexual power. It felt like his whole body was passing through some ideal expression of ultimate masculine perfection. He was powerful and awesome, a god striding the peak of his own making, coming gallons of hot, beautiful cream like a fountain. He fell backwards onto his bed and felt the hot, wet splatters of his own eruption. He could hear himself cum—or maybe that was Tim. Was Tim coming too? Were they coming together? Was that his cream all over his belly and his chest and his neck and his lips? Was that Tim’s copious creamy flood released from the dam and splashing all over his naked body? He didn’t care. Good god it felt good. So good. So good and perfect and powerful. He was breathing hard and the room was spinning and his cock was throbbing and his body was hot and wet with cum and sweat. He opened his eyes and looked down at himself. Thick ropes of cream coated his skin. “Oh, fuck, yeah,” Tim growled. “Oh, Barry,” he said. Barry sat up and looked at his roommate. What was happening—it was miraculous and awesome and weird as shit. The dude was cumming, and he was shooting like a fucking fountain. Wherever the other dude’s thick ropes of cream landed, his body seemed to soak it up like a sponge. The cream splattered against his muscled form, spreading into the creases between each thickly developed muscle, and then it disappeared, growing thinner and thinner until it simply wasn’t there anymore. He came and he came. There was so much of it! How was this even possible? The heat in the room and the scent of raw male sex was still strong. Barry’s spent cock was still hard and throbbing. He felt like if he could still cum more cream, he would. But his balls ached and his body was worn out. He simply couldn’t keep up with his new roommate’s insatiable sexual power. Barry watched the display of male sexual power until it finally abated. Perhaps the well was dry, or perhaps he was simply done. Tim somehow managed to cum almost continually, shoving full, wet, hot splatters of cream all over his prone, naked body. Every fountain was thick and full and strong. And his immense body drank up every single drop of it. Tim lay back on his bed, his immense chest rising and falling as he breathed, the eight-pack on his muscled belly expanding and contracting, and then he groaned with a kind of feral power that shook Barry’s body as if he had taken him physically. “Aw, fuck,” he moaned. “This is going to be harder than I thought.” He sat up, his belly firming into a, eye-popping display of abdominal power, and wiped the sweat from his brow. His scent hit Barry in a strong wave from his moist, uncovered armpit. The ball of his biceps was huge—as big as a football—entwined in veins that stil throbbed with power. “Sorry about that,” he said, looking at the other naked young man. “I… I tried to kind of haul it in but, you know, you’re pretty Goddamn amazing.” “Me?!?” “Fuck, yeah,” Tim growled. “I only do half the magic, dude. You supply the rest. And the feedback I got from you was… well, you’re pretty Goddamn amazing.” “I didn’t do anything,” Barry retorted, though his cock was still stiff and throbbing and he could feel the sexual heat in the room like a palpable thing. “You did enough,” Tim responded. “Fuck.” He looked down at his half-naked form and laughed slightly. “Well,” he concluded, “so much for being inconspicuous.” Sitting up, he started trying to shove his gargantuan prick back into his jeans, with little success. “Fuck,” he said again. Barry started to laugh. The situation was absurd. “I… I gotta get cleaned up.” His own body was coated in thick, sticky slicks of cum, while Tim’s was sweaty, but completely clean of his own fat ropes of cream. “How did you do that?” he asked. “Which?” Tim asked. “Your body. You kind of… soaked up…?” “Oh.” He shrugged. It made the mountains of his shoulders bunch and his enormous chest stretch and flex. “Dunno exactly. Just happens.” He smiled and closed his eyes. “Feels fucking amazing, though.” “What… what does it…?” “Weren’t you going to get cleaned up?” “Oh, yeah,” Barry said. He stood up and looked down at his body, and at his stiff prick. “Is this going to go away?” “Oh, shit. Sorry. That’s me.” The sexual heat that had been embracing Barry’s naked flesh abated suddenly, and his cock finally started to grow limp and sink between his legs. “Jesus,” he said, realizing only now that he hadn’t been fully in control since his new roommate had entered the small room with him. “You’re going to have to learn to control that.” Tim nodded and looked a bit sheepish. “I know.” “I mean, not that I mind, entirely. But it could get to be a bit...inconvenient.” “Right.” he looked up. “I can try to find another roommate, if this is going to be too weird.” “Don’t you fucking dare,” Barry responded. Tim grinned. It almost made Barry’s cock start to throb all over again. PART 2 YEAR ONE September Jeremy Meeks always thought that God had a vicious sense of humor. Why else would he be walking around in a body that was barely five and a half feet tall and weighed 120 pounds soaking wet? The name “Meeks” seemed like the cherry on his cake, and if there was one thing Jeremy Meeks was not looking forward to, it was college. Jeremy had spent most of his educational career trying hard not to be noticed. It wasn’t a particularly difficult maneuver, and sometimes he wondered if his small stature was a direct result of his wishes to remain ignored and anonymous. He had picked a small college on purpose, though the fact that he would be boarding with a building filled with nothing but other guys—not to mention a communal shower at the end of the hall—made him feel slightly sick to his stomach. Because what if he got hard? What if, just by accident, he was in the shower with the others and he had an erection? He had very carefully avoided showering with the other guys in high school after gym for just that reason. He wasn’t gay! He told himself that every night. He wasn’t gay. He just...hadn’t found the right girl, yet. And maybe...maybe every guy had these feelings for a while. It was just a phase—a really, really long phase. He hadn’t met a girl—yet—that turned him on. But, god forgive him, he’d encountered literally dozens of guys that did. It was torture, that’s what it was. Pure torture. He could look but not touch. He had never touched anyone—well, except himself. He’d touched himself plenty! But he was still a virgin as he entered college, and for some reason that seemed worse than the chance that he was gay. Because didn’t the one thing mean the other? Wasn’t everyone else having sex all the time? It was all they ever talked about! It was all there was on TV and in the movies and on the web. And, sure, he’d...looked...at some porn online once or twice. Or hundreds of times. Pictures of naked men. Videos of naked men. Pictures and videos of naked men having sex. With each other. But that didn’t make him gay! He often prayed to take the temptations away. He would fill up a folder on his hard drive with pictures, then delete everything the next week—only to start all over again in a matter of days. It was like a sickness, this liking guys instead of girls, and there had to be a cure for it. It was a very hot day in September when Jeremy moved into the third floor dorm room at the far end of the hall. Other guys were already there, and he had been told that he’d be sharing his room with another boy—a thought that made his stomach flip. What if the guy was cute? What if he was, like, a jock or something? What if...what if Jeremy got a hard-on looking at him and they were there in the room and the other guy beat him up for being a fag? What if someone called him one? What would he do? Those were the thoughts that haunted him as he mounted the stairs, but they all flew from his head as he came to his floor and bore witness to the scene that was taking place at that moment at the other end of the hall. A naked man was walking toward him. He was holding a towel and using it to scrub his head, probably drying his hair from the showers. he did not even try to cover himself up, but then why would he? The naked man walking with measured steps directly toward Jeremy was the biggest, the most muscular, the most beautiful specimen of male flesh that Jeremy—even with all his perusal of naked male flesh—had ever seen. His body was a marvel of perfectly—and incredibly—developed brawn. His skin was still slick and shiny from the showers, making him look a bit like he was made of liquid copper. Muscle, tons and tons of muscle, bulged from every inch of his colossal frame. Was he seven feet tall? Taller than that? And his shoulders filled the hallway. As huge as he was, and as powerful as he looked, Jeremy’s eye was still drawn to the immense tube of flesh swinging ponderously between his ridiculously bulging thighs. “Hung like a horse” sprang to Jeremy’s head as he beheld the fat shank, with its low dangling head and two fat balls. A crown of damp golden curls spread above it, and water dripped along its inches and hung in heavy drops from the tip. Then the man stopped dead in the hallway, and Jeremy’s gaze moved up his huge form and their eyes met. “Hi,” the tall, broad, perfect, muscular god said. He was holding the towel in his hand, letting it dangle at his side, standing there totally naked and beautiful and unashamed. “Huh...hello,” Jeremy answered. “Moving in?” the man asked, his handsome head tilting slightly. He had a rough set of whiskers on his squared jaw, and even in the dim light of the hallway the deep blue of his eyes sparkled like jewels. “Yeah.” “Which room?” “Three… three-eighteen.” The huge giant cast his gaze around him, tossing the towel over one immense shoulder and then hiked his thumb over the other one. The ball of his biceps swelled enormously, and half of his colossal chest spread and lifted, making evident the fibers and cables of muscle beneath his tanned skin. “You’re right here,” he said. His voice was deep and soft. “You need a hand with that?” He nodded toward Jeremy’s feet, but for a moment the smaller boy though he was asking about the hard-on that was starting to throb dangerously inside his pants. Jeremy looked down at his suitcase. “No,” he squeaked, “I can handle it.” “You sure?” the god asked. “It’s no problem.” He folded his arms across his chest. Everything on his upper body collided with each other, shoving the muscle into fat bulges, displaying the deep divides between each thick lobe of brawny power. His cock was fat and thick and heavy, shifting in slow arcs as he moved, displaying its own heft and girth in the process. “I got it,” Jeremy said, bending his knees to lift the heavy case and trying not to look like he was at all tested by its weight. The big man smiled a sideways grin and one thick eyebrow arched on his noble brow. “Okay,” he said. Then he stood to one side of the hall, though his enormity still seemed to occupy most of it, anyway. “Thanks,” Jeremy said, slightly winded. “Don’t mention it. I’m Tim, by the way. Room 302.” “Jeremy,” he answered. “Nice to meet you, Jerry.” “It’s…” He paused, sucking in a breath. Fuck, what was in this suitcase, a dead body? “It’s Jeremy.” “Okay, Jeremy.” He pulled the towel off his shoulder and started wiping his skin off again, rubbing the white terrycloth across his rippled belly and across the wide, cabled expanse of his pectorals. “Well, if you need anything….” “Thanks,” he said. His cock was throbbing and he made sure he kept his back to the god, so he wouldn’t see the tent rising in his pants. “But I think I got it.” The god might have chuckled, or maybe he just cleared his throat. “Tim.” “Huh?” “My name’s Tim.” “I… I know.” “Okay. But if you need anything, I’m in 302.” Why was he making so sure that Jeremy knew all that? Wasn’t it embarrassing enough to be standing there towering over the little shrimp struggling with his suitcase? Didn’t he own any fucking clothes? Was this going to be a thing? This dude wandering around naked all the time torturing him? “302,” he said. “Got it.” “Cool,” Tim answered. “Well...I guess I’ll see you later, Jeremy.” “Yeah,” he answered. “Sure.” There was a pause as the muscled jock stood there stark naked and Jeremy pulled his suitcase into room 318. Finally, done with the chore and standing in the empty dorm room, Jeremy stood up—making sure not to turn around and display the embarrassing hard-on that was threatening to become an award-winner in his jeans—and asked, “Was there something else?” “Just...you remind me of someone.” “Who would that be?” “Me,” he answered. Then with a series of heavy thumps, Tim walked down the hallway toward his room and disappeared from sight, leaving Jeremy standing in his new home with an erection in his pants, dozens of questions in his head, and a sinking feeling that college was going to be a lot worse than high school ever was. • • • • April Tim could not not look at the two of them. Those two Muscle Club guys, just standing there, not really doing anything at all, talking softly to each other, standing so close together, as if everything was a secret between them. It wasn’t unusual to see them anymore. At first it was shocking, particularly when someone he knew or went to class with showed up one day looking...like that. So huge, so different. How it kept happening, no one seemed to know—or seemed to want to say. Then again, it was super weird to see it happening and he felt completely awkward and self conscious in front of one of them. Then, his friend Daniel showed up, and Daniel was now...not Daniel anymore. At least, not the Daniel he was so used to talking to and shooting the shit with. And even Daniel seemed to know it, but how could he not? Tim was very curious about the whole situation. He was not a big dude in any sense. In fact, he was kind of tiny. Always had been. He’d been told he would get a growth spurt “any day now,” and hear stories from adults about how they started school being small and ended that grade several inches taller and all filled out. But here he was, nearing graduation, and still nothing. Nearly eighteen years old, and barely taller than five feet. These huge guys—they were incredible! So big, and so...confident. Especially Daniel! Tim could hardly even look at his old friend anymore without feeling weird. Daniel used to be small like he was, and Daniel used to be shy like he was, and Daniel used to be a loner—but at least they were loners together. Now Daniel was hanging out with these huge dudes, and wearing clothes that showed off...everything! And he was smiling and cocky and, like, oozed a sort of power that was almost like some weird heat he was putting out. Something Tim could literally feel when Daniel was around. Now, it was just awkward. Daniel was different. Daniel was changed. Daniel was in Muscle Club, and guys in Muscle Club hung out together, and if you weren’t in Muscle Club than you weren’t in. If they were shooting up something to get that big, Tim didn’t want any part of it. That shit messes you up, no matter how good you look on the outside. And he’d asked Daniel about it—back when they were still on speaking terms—but Daniel sort of danced around an answer and wouldn’t tell him anything. “But… what happened to you?” “I’m in Muscle Club,” he said, as if that explained everything. “Right, but, like, yesterday you weren’t. Yesterday I could, you know, look you in the eye and now I’m staring at your chest and you’re fucking huge, Daniel! What the fuck?” Daniel smirked and shrugged and said, “Muscle Club.” Then he lifted his right arm and tensed the muscle into bulging power and they both watched the biceps and triceps swell outward thicker and thicker and thicker until he was literally bursting the sleeve on his shirt. Then he lifted the other arm and did it again. Thick wings spread beneath his arms. His shoulders piled higher and higher, nearly kissing his earlobes. His neck was as thick as his head. And he still had Daniel’s face, but it was...changed. It was different. It was, like, better looking. No pimples, no blemishes, nothing but smooth, clear, perfect skin and fucking whiskers growing on his face where there were no fucking whiskers yesterday. Not to mention that he had gained several inches—well over a foot—in height! He was tall and wide and handsome and muscular, and it had all happened literally overnight. Daniel let his arms settle back to his sides. His chest heaved forward and the two thick globes of his pecs filled in his shirt, pushing the points of his nipples against the material. He was grinning and looking at Tim, as if expecting some question or reaction. But Tim could feel something else happening, and he wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. He was...excited. The show of muscle, of Daniel’s new alpha status, had Tim’s heart racing and he felt weirdly hot and his mouth was dry. He could smell Daniel’s body. He could smell him, and he smelled good. “I gotta go,” he said. “Do you?” Daniel’s handsome face tilted. His green eyes narrowed. Tim nodded. “I’ll see you around, Daniel.” “I hope so,” he answered. “See you later, Timster.” Then they parted, and Tim had been avoiding Daniel ever since. Avoiding the discomfort and awkwardness, and avoiding those weird feelings he was having about his old friend. Now he was outside, between classes, lingering near the old gymnasium. Curiosity had drawn him here again, because it was where they hung out, and where he could watch them while pretending not to watch them, and to...smell them. Smell that enticing, funky, curious, attractive scent that they all had. The smell that made him feel strangely good, and made his imagination flare and his balls tingle. They were looking at him, now. He was sitting on the edge of a tree planter, under the shade, pretending to be reading his history textbook. He could almost feel their eyes on him, as if they were like Superman and had heat vision. Two huge guys in matching clothes, both wearing blue jeans and Polo shirts, stretched so tightly across their muscles that he could tell what they looked like naked. He turned the page, though he had no idea what he was reading. The words were words that refused to gather into sentences. His attention and his senses were focused elsewhere. His heart was beating quickly. His pits were damp with sweat. A drop of it was crawling down his spine and creeping into his ass crack. His scalp tingled. And then one of them said, “Hey!” He ignored them, pretending that they weren’t talking to him. Then they both started moving toward him, their huge thighs moving around each other, their massive arms swinging from the ponderous muscle hanging off them, their large feet bringing them closer by the second. Then he could smell them. Each of them. He could tell one from the other just by their smell. It was weird and confusing and...awesome. “Hey,” one of them said, again. His voice was very deep, and now he spoke softly, and directly to Tim. He looked up. They were so huge, especially this close, and particularly because he was sitting and they were standing. “You’re Tim, right?” He nodded, feeling both overwhelmed and scared, as if ferocious animals were near him. “Daniel mentioned you.” “Daniel?” The other one spoke, now. “Yeah.” He nodded again. “He’s a cool dude.” “He said you were a cool dude, too,” the first one said, then he added, “I’m Chris.” He smiled. He has perfect teeth, and deep dimple in his chin. He had very dark hair, nearly black, that hung loose on his head. He was clean-shaven, with sun-tanned skin and dark brown eyes. The other one said, “Paul,” and he nodded at Daniel. Paul had a shock of red-blonde hair that stood nearly straight up on his head, gathered into a faux-hawk on his head. He had an unusually thick beard and mustache, particularly for a high school guy, and freckles on his face. He had green eyes, a narrow nose and thin eyebrows that arched in a manner that made his expression look constantly curious. The bell rang suddenly, and Tim almost jumped out of his seat. Chris raised an eyebrow and Paul’s full, pillowy lips pouted outward. “You okay? You seem kind of...nervous,” Chris observed. “No,” Tim answered. “I’m okay.” “Daniel said you were avoiding him,” Paul said. “I’m not…” “We’re kind of intimidating,” Chris offered, “but that’s only on the outside.” “Yeah,” Paul agreed. “On the inside, we’re pussycats.” “I gotta go,” Tim said. But he didn’t move. “You should talk to Daniel,” Chris offered. “He’s a nice guy.” “He misses you,” Paul added. Tim closed his book. “You ever...wanted to join Muscle Club?” “Me?” “Yeah,” Chris said. “We’re always looking for new members.” “I’m not….” “No big deal…but...you know, if you ever wanted to, just come by here.” Paul was nodding. “I think you’d fit in really well.” His eyes, so green, were moving up and down Tim’s small form. “I think you’d have a good time, for sure.” “It’s fun,” Chris said. “Great group of guys.” “But… isn’t it… don’t I have to… take… something?” Chris’s brow furrowed. “Take what?” “To get… big?” Then Chris smiled. “Ooooh. Okay. ‘Take something.’” He made air quotes around the phrase. It made the muscles on his arms bunch up and swell with thick brawn. “No, you don’t take anything.” “Well,” Paul said, looking at his companion, “that’s not entirely true, Chris. It’s probably not the right way to put it, but you definitely need to, um, enjoy something, sort of ...unusual. Right?” “I guess you could put it that way,” Chris agreed. “But we can’t divulge everything unless you’re serious about joining. Are you?” “Am I what?” “Serious? About joining?” “I never said…” “Then what are you doing sitting here, pretending to read that book?” “I’m not pretending…” “What were you just reading, Tim? What was the chapter about?” “It was….” “You’re being a dick, Chris,” Paul said. “We’re already intimidating enough. If Tim wants to join, he knows how to do it.” Paul then looked at the small young man and said, “Just talk to Daniel. He’s your friend. He won’t steer you wrong.” “But,” Chris started. “The bell rang,” Paul said. “We’re late for class.” The faux-hawk god looked at Tim and winked. “Talk to Daniel, Tim. Okay? Even if you don’t want to join. He’s a nice guy, and he misses you.” He nudged his friend with his muscled shoulder and said, “C’mon or we’re gonna miss recess.” Chris’s face lit up and he said, “Fuck yeah! Recess!” Then they high-fived and turned around, walking their tight, muscular butts and inhumanly widely tapered backs toward the gym, and disappeared inside. Tim realized that his dick was hard, and he could feel a cold wetness in his shorts. His skin was still hot and the smell of the two young muscle freaks lingered in his nostrils, reminding him of something but he wasn’t sure what it was. He was breathing hard and his mouth was dry. It was altogether weird and uncomfortable, but he wanted more of it, whatever it was. He had to get to class. He knew that. He wasn’t a rule-breaker. But he sat there, under the tree, watching the closed doors of the gymnasium, waiting for Daniel to appear. But he didn’t. Maybe he was at recess, whatever that was. Sounded ridiculous, something you did in elementary school, where you just played with your friends and threw balls around. Yet another secret code between Muscle Club members. What the hell were they really doing in there? That afternoon, as Tim was sitting at his computer, a chat window opened up. > Hey! It was Daniel. With his usual greeting. Tim sat there looking at the window for a few heartbeats before responding, because it was obvious that he was online and available. > Hey > Whutup? > Not much There was a long pause. He figured Daniel was sussing out his mood. Then: > I hear you met Chris and Paul > Yeah > We ok? Tim looked at the simple question. Two words but filled with meaning. He pulled in a slow breath, then sighed it out before typing. > I guess so > That doesn’t sound very promising > Sorry > Are you mad at me? > No > Are we still friends? > Yes It felt weird, this chat session. Without having Daniel’s new huge body there, and his new mature face and his new deep voice, it felt like it did before. Daniel, little Daniel, was at the other end of the chat, and he was sad and confused and wondering why his friend hated him, now. > It feels like you’re mad at me > I’m not mad > Maybe, but you haven’t typed more than three words, and that usually means you’re mad That was true. Tim had a tendency to shut down, and Daniel was his best friend, and Daniel knew him better than anyone. Then: > I miss hanging out with you Tim looked at the words. He only saw the first two and the last one. His heart felt heavy in his small chest and his palms went sweaty. > You still there? > Yes > Can I come over? Can he come over? Can Daniel come over to his house, and can it be like it was before, playing video games and goofing around online and watching dumb videos on YouTube? Can Daniel come over? > It’s ok if you don’t want to see me. I understand. It’s weird. > It is weird. > I’m weird. > You’re not weird. You’re just different. > But that’s weird. > It is. > And I understand that. And I just wanted to talk to you about it. Because I’ve changed but I’m still Daniel, if that makes sense. It certainly sounded like Daniel, at least in the chat window. Then Daniel tried a different tack: > You played the new Halo, yet? > Yes. It’s ok. > Right? It’s good, but it feels too samey. They really need to change it and stop making the same game over and over. > I liked it. It had some good parts. And the online is killer. > As usual. Tim smiled. He and Daniel had spent too many hours fragging each other on their Xboxes. > I’m coming over Then he signed off. And Tim stared at the window and felt his whole body heat up and his mouth go dry. He felt simultaneously excited and scared and curious and frozen. Daniel was coming over to his house. Daniel had been there hundred of times. The old Daniel. The little Daniel. His friend Daniel. He was still his friend Daniel. He looked at the words on the screen. They were from Daniel. The old Daniel. He was still the old Daniel. The minutes that passed while he waited seemed very long. He sat on the couch in the living room sweating, glancing at the clock, pacing the floor and feeling a bit sick to his stomach. This was weird! Why was he so nervous? What did expect to happen? When the knock on the door finally came, it shocked Tim so hard that he fell off the couch. Then he heard a deep, masculine, Daniel-like voice say, “Hello?” Tim got up and looked through the peephole. Of course he saw Daniel’s eye looking right back at him—just like he always did. “Tim?” He opened the door. • • • • September “Who?” “Jeremy.” “Not seeing it.” “What?” “You and Jeremy.” “Why not, me and Jeremy?” “Well, for starters, you’d squish him.” Tim frowned as he looked at his roommate. “Would not,” he protested. At the moment, they were both naked inside the dorm room, each lying on their own beds, the scent and heat of the timebomb still draining from the air. Tim’s massive muscular form was coated in a glistening slick of sweat, leaning to one side to look at Barry, his fat prick finally growing limp and lying majestically across his hip and dangling onto the mattress, a fat shank of sex meat constantly primed. Barry, lying on his back, was covered in another heavy dousing of his own cum, and was feeling both content and blissful after another Tim-inspired super-orgasm had shaken him to his core. “There’s a definite chance you would, unless you were on bottom—and you don’t strike me as an ‘on bottom’ type of guy.” “How would you know?” “Good point.” Tim had never told Barry outright that he was gay, but it was obvious after only a couple of days. Tim attracted the attention of women by just walking into a room. Of course, Tim attracted everyone’s attention by walking in a room, but he attracted a certain kind of attention among the females present. Barry was quick to note that all eyes turned his way and was hoping to catch the castoffs that Tim didn’t want—until it turned out that Tim didn’t want any of them at all. At first, it seemed like Tim wasn’t interested in anyone. He kept to himself as much as he could, sat in the back of his classes, didn’t join Barry or anyone else at lunch, never even left campus, and stayed cooped up in his dorm room whenever he wasn’t attending classes. There were the nightly timebombs, of course, and they stayed as powerful and energetic as that first one. Barry was a bit afraid that Tim’s timebombs were going to have a detrimental effect on his sperm production, since he was going off with a frequency and power that seemed ludicrous if not impossible. Maybe the timebomb was doing more than just amping up his sex drive, but he wasn’t complaining. He made it clear to his roommate, though, that his own drives went in another direction. “I like tits,” he said bluntly. “And vagina.” Tim laughed. “Most guys do.” “Just… wanted to be clear about that.” “No problem.” “I mean, what you do—and who you do it with—that’s your own business.” “Thanks.” “And I’m not saying that I don’t enjoy, you know, the time you and I spend together.” “Naked.” “Out of necessity!” “Of course.” “But I just wanted to let you know.” “And now I know.” But Barry was getting a bit concerned about his new friend. Spending that much time alone couldn’t be good for him, and the dude had nothing to be fucking shy about! There had to be lots of gay dudes out there on campus who’d be tickled fucking pink to have someone like Tim to… do… that with. So he asked who Tim liked, what was his ‘type,’ and if there was anyone he’d seen on campus that interested him “in that way.” But Tim’s answer not only surprised him, it made him a little bit angry. “Not Jeremy.” “Why not Jeremy? He’s cute!” “He’s weird.” “I’m weird.” “You’re… funny weird. He’s just… odd weird.” “He reminds me of me.” “What? You’re insane.” “Take a look in my wallet.” “Why?” “Look at my driver’s license.” Barry pulled himself up and walked over to where Tim’s jeans were hanging over the dorm room’s single chair, fishing inside the back pocket and pulling out a black leather billfold. He flipped it open and looked at the picture. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he laughed, then he held it out to Tim’s eyes. “This is you?” “That was me,” Tim verified. “The 98 pound weakling.” Barry turned it around and looked at it again, flicking his gaze back and forth between the man on the bed and the boy in the photo. There was a definite facial resemblance, in the eyes and the nose and the mouth, but the huge, muscular form sprawled out on the mattress bore little physical similarity to the picture anymore. He set the wallet down and looked at the man on the bed. The huge muscles, the thick and massive cock, the sheer bulk of him making the poor bed sink. The change was more than dramatic, it was impossible. “Jesus,” he said softly. “How the fuck did it happen?” • • • • April “Hi, Tim.” Daniel was bigger than Tim remembered. He looked bigger than Chris or Paul looked, but maybe that was because Tim still remembered little Daniel, and big Daniel was just...unbelievably big. “Hi,” he said back. “Can I come in?” He was just standing there. he wasn’t doing anything, but his entire body seemed to be flexing with suppressed power. Tim opened the door wider—then he stepped aside, because it was evident that Daniel needed all the room he could get just to fit through the front door. Then he closed it behind him, and stood there looking at his best friend as his best friend looked back at him. “Well,” he said in his new, lower, more resonant voice, “this is fucking weird.” Tim sighed out a breath. “I’m glad you said it first.” He shrugged. It made his shoulders pile higher and the two massive tectonic plates mounted on his chest heave and lift and his shirt stretch itself to the breaking point. He was wearing the same thing as Chris and Paul; a too-tight Polo shirt and a pair of navy blue jeans that seemed suctioned onto his lower body. He wore flip-flops on his massive feet. A shock of muddy brown hair was sticking up from his head, as usual, and his jawline was dusted with short whiskers, which was unusual. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and the whites of his eyes were very clear. He licked his lips—fuller, maybe, and...softer—and then sighed, too. “You’re pissed at me,” he concluded. “I’m not,” Tim said. Daniel nodded. “No, you’re pissed off, and I understand it. I go off one day looking like I did, I come back the next day with… all of this.” He held out his well-developed arms, palms up, and it was almost like his whole body inflated. Muscle everywhere. Thick, fat, hard, bulging masses of power swelling outward on every inch of his taller frame. “You freaked out. I get that.” “Can you blame me?” He took a step forward. “That’s just it! I don’t blame you at all! I blame me! I… I didn’t think about… everything. I just… did it.” A wash of a thick, masculine scent washed over Tim as Daniel stepped toward him. At first, it reminded him of Chris and Paul, again, but then, like a light flickering on in his head, he knew that it was the scent of Daniel, multiplied by a hundred. He recognized it and it brought with it a flood of memories when he had smelled it before, but hadn’t known it at the time. It made his skin feel warm and his cock twitched and his balls tingled. He swallowed uncomfortably, but breathed in his friend’s scent deeply. “What did you do?” “I can’t… I’m not supposed to say. Only Muscle Club…” His face was still Daniel’s, and Tim recognized confusion and embarrassment on his features. “Only Muscle Club,” Tim echoed. “Yeah, I know that part.” “No, Tim. You don’t know anything at all. This… this changes everything.” His face, handsome and grown-up, shifted into serious mode. He sometimes got that way. A pang of recognition and loss sprang up in Tim. There he was. There was Daniel. “Well, duh,” he answered, more softly than he intended. Daniel didn’t seem to notice. “I’m not joking. It’s not just what I look like, now. It’s everything. I mean, there are things, crazy things, I can do. And I’m not sure that I understood what it would mean, joining Muscle Club.” Daniel stopped and took a breath. “Whoa. Sorry. I didn’t mean… can we sit down?” Tim nodded and they both took seats, Big Daniel on the couch and Tim in a chair opposite him. The way Daniel’s body moved now was oddly fascinating. Watching the muscles—every muscle—bunch and flex and bulge under his clothes. Watching his huge form bend and sit, watching his thighs separate into distinct lobes and wedges of brawn, and the way the muscles on his arms bulged and moved beneath the skin. His skin was so thin, and so tight! It looked elastic, but smooth and soft like silk or velvet. As he passed, a cloud of his scent washed over Tim and inundated his senses. He closed his eyes and sucked it into his lungs when Daniel wasn’t looking. It made his cock feel heavy and thick. It made the hairs on his arms bristle. It made a taste, a salty tang, familiar and delicious, leap into his mouth, and he licked his lips as his heart began to race. “Are you all right?” Daniel asked him. Tim opened his eyes, embarrassed to have been caught, and a sense of anger washed over him for a moment. “Yeah,” he said, testily. Then he sighed and looked at his friend, who seemed genuinely concerned. The familiarity of the situation again calmed him down, and he asked, “What about you?” “I’m fucking amazing,” he reported, offering a wide smile filled with straight, white, perfect teeth. Cords of power stretched along his thick neck. The buttons on his Polo were being pulled apart by the size of his muscular chest. His nipples, fat things with thick points, pushed at the fabric low on the two massive globes. “No glasses?” “What? Oh, yeah. I forgot about them. Nope, no more glasses. And my teeth are straight. And my acne cleared up. And… just fucking everything. I mean, you have no idea what this feels like. No fucking clue.” He looked down at his hands—his huge hands—flexing the long, strong fingers. The muscles along his forearms stretched and bulged incredibly. “It’s amazing, Tim. It’s unbelievable, except it’s happening.” He was sitting forward, on the edge of the couch. Their knees almost touched. Daniel’s leg was huge. A thick collection of wedges assembled into a thigh at least as big as Tim’s waist. His calf spread out and stretched his jeans tightly over its flaring mass. And the dude had a huge fucking basket. It was ludicrous. No one honestly had a set of equipment that big! It looked like he was smuggling a salami and two eggs in his jeans! Tim was staring at it without realizing, picturing the cock and balls that made up that bulge. Eight inches? Nine? How big was the fucking thing when Daniel got hard? “You want to see it?” Daniel asked. Tim felt a cold wash of shame coat him at his friend’s words. “What? No! Of course I don’t want to see it!” Daniel smiled. “It’s just that you were staring at my junk, so I thought….” “I couldn’t care less about your junk, asshole,” he said, heatedly. Daniel held up his hands to placate his friend, exposing his armpits. Another sudden wave of his strong, familiar smell entered Tim’s nostrils, and he pulled in the scent eagerly. His own cock throbbed. His nipples sent tingles of excitement through his small body. He swallowed drily and looked, again, at the massive meat caged inside Daniel’s jeans. He bit his lip and asked, “How big?” “I thought you said you didn’t want to see….” “I didn’t say I wanted to see it! I asked how big it was!” “Okay, okay.” He lowered his hands and the strength of his scent dimmed. “I haven’t measured, if you want to know. I’ve been kind of busy.” “Doing what?” Having fucking sex with your new fucking friends, Tim thought, sullenly. “Stuff,” Daniel answered. “Getting used to this new body. And what it can do. What I can do. Being with the other guys in the Club.” He paused, and Tim looked at him. Then Daniel said, “Having lots of sex.” “I fucking knew it!” Daniel just shrugged. “It’s no big deal. It’s just sex.” “It’s not ‘just sex,’ you moron!” “How would you know?” He said it before thinking, and a look of regret washed over Daniel’s handsome face instantly. “Fuck you!” “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean….” “I can’t believe you did this!” “Why?” “You go off and get all…like that! You leave me behind! You don’t even tell me! You don’t even ask me! And then you show up and expect everything to be just like it was, and… and….” His rant trailed off. He was standing up now. He’d been yelling at Daniel, who was sitting on the couch, his eyebrows arched, his full lips arranged in a silent ‘O’ as he watched his best friend lose it. “What the fuck?” he asked. “Is that why you’re mad at me?” “I don’t know what you’re….” “You’re mad because I did it and didn’t take you with me?” “Well, duh, shit head! Look at you! Look at your body! Look at your face! You’re fucking… you look like… that smell… your muscles… your cock… Fuck!” Daniel huffed out a laugh and was shaking his shaggy head. “You’re an idiot,” he concluded. “Am not,” Tim protested. “Dude,” he said, sitting back on the couch and spreading his thickly muscled arms along its back. They stretched the entire length of the sofa. The heavy globes of his chest rose and separated into fat cables of muscle. The wings of his lats opened under his arms. And that smell. That delicious, enticing, masculine muck that screamed Daniel! as loud as it could at Tim’s senses came forth in a thick cloud. “What?” Tim asked. He was looking at Daniel like he was a feast on display for a starving man. “All you have to do is ask. Don’t you know that?” “I’m not sure….” “Not sure about what? Not sure you want to look like me? Not sure you want the muscle? All this muscle? All this power? Not sure you want a fucking massive dick?” He moved one hand down and rested his palm on the shank of his cock. He moved his hand along its length. His hand had to move a long way. “What’s there not to be sure about?” “You know what I mean,” he protested. Daniel shook his head. “I really don’t dude.” He was still massaging his prick. It was swelling thicker with head-spinning speed. Tim could see the snake creeping down Daniel’s thigh, the shaft rising like dough. “The… gay stuff.” Daniel shrugged. “What about it?” “I’m not gay!” “Neither am I.” “What?” “I’m not gay. I’m not anything.” “You fuck guys!” He nodded, then shrugged again. “I fuck Muscle Club guys. It’s not exactly the same thing.” “Gay is gay, Daniel.” “First, so what? What the fuck do you care? Second, you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Tim opened his mouth, but Daniel tilted his head and asked, “So, you’ve been fucking a lot of girls over the past few weeks, have you?” “No, I…” “Then what’s the big deal?” He licked his lips. “Oh, I get it. You’re worried about what someone else is going to think.” “No, I’m n…” “You’re scared that you’ll walk around school and people will be all, ‘Hey, faggot!’ or ,’Here comes gay Tim,’ or something like that.” “It’s not like th…..” “Why do you still give a flying bloody fuck what anyone thinks about you?” “Easy for you to say!” He nodded. “Fuckin’ A. Easy for me to say. Fucking look at me, Tim. You think I care what anyone else thinks? I like myself. I like my friends. I’m having a good time. I fuck guys. Guys fuck me.” He shrugged again. “Call me gay if you want to, Tim. I don’t care.” “I….” “I don’t care,” Daniel repeated. “That was always the difference between you and me. I don’t care. You care too much. What I think. What other people think.” He narrowed his clear brown eyes and smiled. “Do you want to see, Tim? Do you just want to see what I look like now?” “I can see that already.” “No you can’t.” He stood up. “You only imagine it.” He put his hands to his shirt and pulled the hem from his pants. “I’m covered up.” He pulled the shirt up his torso, revealing an ungodly eight-pack coated in flawless bronzed skin. Two fat nipples plucked at the shirt before they revealed themselves, like chocolate kisses on his skin. He lifted the shirt above his head. His hairy armpits were wet with perspiration. A thick tang of his smell erupted, stronger than ever. He towered over his friend. His muscle was thick, wide, heavy, massive. He had trouble removing the shirt entirely, it didn’t want to let his arms go. Then it was off him, and he dropped it to the carpet. “When you see me as I am now,” he said, putting his fingers to the button fly of his jeans and pulling them open, “maybe you’ll understand.” Pop! Pop! Pop! Each button pulled open, revealing a flat pelvis and a thick forest of dark curls. Daniel shoved his thumbs into the waistband at his hips and started pushing his tight pants from his body. Tim watched with unvarnished fascination. He had never seen a body as perfect before. Never seen an act as sensual and nakedly sexual. His friend stripped in front of him, pulling the covering from his new, improved body in his living room, removing all the clothing from his massive muscular form until he stood there, three feet in front of him, six feet and eight inches of superhuman male perfection. His cock was huge. Beyond huge. Fat and shiny. It was rising with throbbing beats, his heart shoving hot blood into his shank, the head blooming and expanding, the whole of it rising higher and higher. He began to stretch his enormous frame. Tim could see every single muscle on his incredible body as he did so. Watch how they married together perfectly. How massive they were. How beautiful. Then he stood straight, arms at his side, feet shoulder width apart, as his massive prick rose between them. “This is me, Tim. This is what I am.” Time was rendered speechless. His friend was beautiful. Perfect. Powerful. Daniel’s scent was now overwhelming everything else. It coated Tim’s flesh in sex. It warmed and excited him. It made his whole body tremble and throb. It shuddered with power and the essence of masculine dominance and perfect sexual potency. “If you want this, all you have to do is ask me, Tim.” He smiled. His cock was pushing its helmet toward the deep valley between his massive pecs. The eye was drooling a flow of clear precum. His balls were moving, two fat eggs in a hairless sack, pumping cream endlessly. “I can give it all to you. Just ask.” Tim was dumbstruck. He wanted it. He wanted it all. All the muscle. All the power. All the strength and size and perfect male beauty that his best friend possessed. He nodded slowly. Daniel smiled. “It’s easy Tim,” he said, moving his hands onto his colossal hard-on and pointing his nozzle at his small friend’s body. His cock grew red and shiny in his large, firm grip, swelling outward as it grew even longer, reaching toward Tim like a snake. Tim was mesmerized. His friend seemed to be swelling with muscle. It was growing beneath his smooth, perfect flesh. Fibers appearing, cables expanding, what was already thick was growing thicker. His chest swelled forward and each huge pec was inflating with brawn. His head was moving closer to the ceiling. His shoulders stretched wider and wider. And every moment, every second that he grew bigger and more powerful, his cock was stretching thicker and longer in his grip. “What should I do,” he whispered. Daniel’s face was inhumanly handsome. “All you have to do is stand there.” • • • • September “It’s a long story,” Tim told Barry. “I’ll bet,” Barry agreed. “But, is it like a shot, or something?” “No,” he answered. “A pill?” “No,” he said again. “Is it….” “It’s in my cum,” he explained. “Say again?” “My cum. It’s in my cum.” There was a long pause as the two naked men, their bodies nearly touching in the small room, looked at each other. “It’s in your cum.” Tim nodded. “Soooo….” “So if I get any cum in you—any cum at all—you’ll start to change.” “Start to….” He nodded. “If you drink it, if you get some on your lips and swallow any, you’ll start to change completely.” “Why would I drink…?” “Exactly,” Tim said. “But, you know, better safe than sorry.” “Hold on. So, any other guy who…” Tim was already nodding his head. “So if I…” More nodding. “And if Jeremy….” Nod, nod, nod. “So you had to….” “I did,” Tim verified, “have to.” “Did you want to?” Without a pause, he answered, “I did.” “And then…?” Tim shrugged his massive muscular shoulders. A reticent smirk wound across his full, kissable lips. He moved his hand along the thick inches of his massive prick, looking down at his tool with reverence and pride, rubbing the tip of his finger on the eye of his snake. “New Tim,” he reported. “Just like that?” He drew his hand away and snapped his fingers, saying, “Just like that.” “Did it hurt?” He sighed. “If you keep asking questions about it, I’m going to start to think you want to…” Barry held up his hands, saying, “No, no, no, no, no. I was just asking.” He swallowed hard and looked at his naked roommate. “So when we’re…” Again, Tim nodded. “And I’m…” Nod. “And if you…” Eye roll. “So...we need to be a bit more careful about….” “I’m being careful, Barry. I’m trying to be very, very careful. We can stop if you’re worried, or I can go back into the bathroom and you can stay clear...or I can try to find a new roommate.” “Like Jeremy.” “It’s up to you. I should’ve said something a lot earlier, but….” “Yeah, um, probably that would be a good idea.” Barry sighed, looking down at his cum-shellacked body. “I need to take a shower.” “You already did! Oh, you mean…” “Oh, ha ha ha, funny man. Make me fountain up a gallon of cum all over my skin and then make jokes about it.” But Barry was grinning. “Look, no need to run away just yet. Now that I know, we can continue doing...whatever the fuck it is we’re doing. Mutual admiration. Whatever. Just don’t, you know….” “I know,” Tim answered. “You going to get dressed or are you going to go down the hall and knock on his door looking like that?” He sat up, causing his collection of abs to bulge and pop, and threw up a double-bi, sending the muscles on his arms into spasms of swollen power. “I thought I might try it looking like this, first.” He shifted his arms down into a most muscular, and the two halves of his chest crashed into each other like colliding planets. Bands of power erupted up beneath his flawless skin and a wave of his intense, earthy tang washed over Barry. “What do you think?” “I think you’re going to send him running off to mommy, that’s what I think.” Barry was impressed, though. The man was definitely a handsome subject and those muscles were unstoppable. “Put on some pants, at least. If the guy gets a look at that hose between your legs, he’ll be too scared to do much of anything.” Tim grinned proudly, moving the back of his hand along its lengthy girth. “It’s my best feature,” he said. “One of many,” Barry agreed. “Flirt,” Tim said, his deep voice lowering to an animalistic growl. Then Barry wiggled his butt at his roommate before wrapping a towel around his slim form and heading toward the communal showers. Tim stood up and stretched his large frame, looking down at the massive shank of sex meat arching proudly between his legs. “He’s probably right,” he said, speaking to his own prick. “You’re kind of overkill in the cock department. And there’s no sense in going overboard on the first date, right?” He pulled on his customary attire of jeans and Polo shirt, slipped his size 14 feet into a pair of flip flops and wandered down the hallway toward Jeremy’s room, pausing at the door to check out his breath before rapping on the wood with his knuckles. Part 3 September It was a very large building, probably a warehouse once but now it was nothing at all. Just a big building with a very large sign hanging on it that didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. Because now the building was empty and abandoned, with locks on the doors and windows filled with darkness. Tim stood outside looking up at the facade. There was no one else around in this area of town. The only thing in the parking lot was weeds poking up through the asphalt cracks, and a warm, late summer wind. He could hear a train whistle somewhere, but otherwise everything was quiet. It was hot outside. He was sweating. His pent-up libido was screaming at him, and his prick and balls felt like they weighed a ton. He licked his lips and wiped his brow, smelling his own masculine ripeness. He wondered if the other guys smelled him the same way, or did he smell different to them? He shaded his eyes and looked up. The sign mounted on this side of the building said TRANSFORM GYM in large, sturdy letters. They looked like military type, or something on the back of a collegiate letterman jacket. Everyone had come to call it simply T Gym. Or even The T. He’d never seen one before, but he knew there was one here and he determined to himself that he’d pay it a visit, the very first thing, even if there was no one there to greet his arrival. This was his first stop after exiting the bus. He’d get to college soon enough, and face everything that little challenge would be providing, but for now he was sating a deep curiosity about himself and what was happening to his body, and whether or not there were any answers inside—even if there were no trumans around to offer them. They seemed to have disappeared as mysteriously as they had appeared. They were seemingly everywhere for a time, making videos, appearing at gym openings, parading their impossible bodies around in impossibly revealing clothing, even marketing it to men who wanted to belong to their gyms and their lifestyles, whatever they were. Even though a lot was known about them, probably just as much was unknown—and chiefly, where did they go? Rumors ran rampant, of course, but then like anything else, from wars to injustices to financial collapse, people simply grew bored with them and moved on to the next awful celebrity meltdown. You could still find pictures of them online, though a lot of them had been removed or disappeared just as mysteriously as the trumans themselves. Maybe it was because the trumans became very protective of their images and likenesses, and maybe someone was still out there, filtering their history and presence out of the world. That was weird, too. At first, it seemed like you couldn’t turn on a TV or open a magazine or visit a web site without a mention or a new picture or video that contained another impossibly beautiful man with an impossibly developed set of muscles and an impossibly overburdened pair of shorts trying hard to contain what was obviously a very prodigious and impressive set of sexual equipment. They seemed to be trying as hard as they could to test the social boundaries of male exposure. Always shirtless—and often pantsless—the trumans flaunted their physical properties with all the modesty of porn stars. Then, suddenly, nothing. Gyms shut down. Truman magazines gone. Truman videos wiped. It was like a dream that you couldn’t quite remember. Except for Tim and his fellow Muscle Club members, of course, whose own sudden, accelerated and massive muscular development had to be related to whatever made a truman a truman. He stood at the gym’s twin doors and looked at the thick chains and padlock, twisting his lips into a grimace as he considered his options. Probably, by now, there was nothing inside anyway. But then, why the locks? And the chains? He lifted them into one hand. They were heavy, and very thick. Not the sort of things one puts on a door unless one means business. Setting his duffel bag down, he placed both hands on the iron and pulled. As usual, his own strength surprised and shocked him, as his arms swelled with brawn and he pulled the links open as if they were made of bread dough. The chains fell apart and clattered to the concrete, and Tim jumped back automatically to avoid the mass of metal from hitting his feet, clad only in rubber flip-flops. Reaching forward, he turned the handle and pushed the doors open. A subtle smell erupted from the huge, empty building. Dust, certainly, and rust, possibly, but also something funkier and more… human. A smell that made his nostrils flare and his balls tingle and his cock throb. The smell of men. Strong, thick, earthy and masculine. Like a fog made of testosterone and sweat. He closed his eyes and sucked it into his lungs and let it bathe his skin. It reminded him strongly of the unique and powerful smell that lived in the Muscle Club schoolroom, but even deeper and curiously penetrating. How long had the building been unoccupied, now—and still that scent lingered. “Fuck,” he said, meaningfully and with surprise. He had not expected this. The surviving afterglow of what had been happening inside the building was still existent, and quite apparent. His body started reacting to it almost immediately, and in a most agreeable fashion. Swallowing into a dry throat, he retrieved his bag and pushed both doors open, stepping inside this deserted church of muscle and man. The room before him stretched out like a football field—possibly two. The gym equipment, consisting of the usual machines and pulleys and free weights, were all still here but were oddly pushed to the periphery, leaving the majority of the floor empty and open. There were rubber mats covering every inch of the space, some of them pushed about and others still connected. The windows mounted high up around the whole building were closed, but sunlight poured down in angles creating squares of light on the floor. A kind of catwalk clung to the walls, probably a remnant of whatever the building had previously been, and a sort of enclosed office was high up the wall on the opposite side. Walking further inside, Tim called out a tentative, “Hello!” just in case someone was still in here after all. There was no answer except his own deep and resounding echo in the cavernous space. He walked to the center of the floor and stood there, absorbing a weird kind of energy that seemed to live in the huge room, though it was probably just his imagination. The smell grew stronger here, perhaps captured and contained into the center like some invisible bubble. He sucked the scent deeply inside, and his whole body heated up like a sexual lightbulb whose socket had been turned on, making the hairs on his flesh tingle and his skin feel suddenly hot. He closed his eyes and his secondary cock pushed for emergence with anxious need, though he had determined not to let the twins out if he could help it. Still, he was all alone here, so he allowed himself some leeway and, after undoing the button fly on his jeans and pulling his meat free, he allowed the other prick to push forward and bloom to its full stature, standing within the center of this strange and awesome power and feeling it to pour over and energize him. With his thickly muscled arms hanging at his side and his hands balled into fists, his cocks throbbed and plumped and drooled with conspicuous pleasure. They stretched their long necks into swollen, vein-covered stalks and raised their plump heads, rising higher and higher, charmed by the energy held inside this place. He could feel his balls churn and swell with cream, and a warm trail of precum, like honey, erupted from each eye and travelled down the thick inches of each shaft. Tim licked his lips and opened his mouth and sucked in a deep breath of the oddly scented air, his chest expanding as he filled his lungs with its essential power. His whole body grew hotter, still, and his cocks swelled to ultimate glorious tumescence with immediate eager bliss. He swooned with lust and felt his knees go weak. With a suddenness and power that nearly staggered him, he came hard, throwing back his head, pushing his chest forward, shoving thick ropes of cream from both cannons that arched high overhead and splattered against the rubber mats in thick puddles. It felt incredibly satisfying and significant, as if he were somehow blessing the area or offering his own essence as a way of joining the invisible, absent brotherhood. He roared his pleasure and opened his eyes and watched his massive cocks spitting hot cream in long ropey cascades, shoving the pent-up abundance of his over-productive balls across the gym in thick, audible streams. Fuck, it felt good. It felt perfect. Could he really curtail this sensation? Back home, he was sure his fellow Club members were all fucking each other right now, shoving their stiff cocks into warm, tight, muscular butts. Here, in his new home, he had no fellowship of similarly gifted men to share with. But he’d managed a 6-hour-plus bus trip without even touching himself, and now that he was allowing his twins to spit their load all over the floor inside this edifice to men and muscle, it just felt good. Tim moved his hands before his twin founts, splattering messy loads into his cupped palms and bringing delicious mouthfuls of cream to his lips, sucking them inside. He moaned with pleasure, a deep and feral sound, because nothing was as satisfying as this was to him now. He wanted the moment to linger on and on, creaming freely and swallowing his warm power, but he had places to go and things to do—neither of which were likely to take what he was doing right now in stride. With resignation and more than a little disappointment, he slowed the fountains of cum and forced his happy and eager pricks to deflate, pulling one of the twins inside his magical body and shoving the other one back inside his jeans, allowing it to shrink to a more manageable, though still abundant, eight inches. The smell of his copious flow joined with the earthy tang in the room, as if he had participated in whatever had happened here before him. It smelled right, somehow—not competing or overwhelming the masculine scent, but augmenting and mingling with it. He loved that smell, and hoped it would stay lodged in his nostrils after he left. Pulling in a cooling breath and sighing it out, he observed the copious flood of his production and clicked his tongue. “Fuck,” he said again, marveling at the volume and power of his shots, splattered before him in thick puddles of creamy cum. He must’ve gone off like a rocket—no, twin rockets. It sure felt like it! Shaking his head in wonder, still unaccustomed and surprised by his body’s abilities, he looked up at the catwalk and the office suspended above the floor. If there were going to be any clues about what they had been doing here and where they had gone, it was likely to be up there. Looking around, he saw that the stairway leading upwards had collapsed or broken. There were no steps at the ground, only the upper stairs remained, probably 20 feet above him. Walking closer, he stood beneath them and tilted his head. “Gotta be taller,” he said to himself. Then he smiled and began to strip his clothing off, so that his body could assume its natural size and bring him closer to the stairs. This felt good, too. Growing and allowing himself to unshackle his frame and his muscles so that they could bloom to their full size and enormity. His head moved upwards as his body expanded in all directions, gaining inches of thick brawn all over as his skeleton stretched and lengthened. It took only seconds, and anyone observing the feat would have been flabbergasted to witness the young man’s metamorphosis from mere bodybuilder to godlike being. Tim stood at his full height, towering eight and a half feet tall. He was still growing. He grew a little more every day—every hour—every minute. He could hide it to some degree, but when he could remove his self-imposed restraints and swell to his actual size, he was an impossible being to behold. He squatted and then pushed his weight from the floor as hard as he could, reaching over his head to grab the broken stairway—and then shocked and amazed himself as his powerful legs pushed him well beyond the 20-foot height and he was in mid-air, high above the floor, peddling his legs like a swimming dog. He pivoted his giant, powerful form and made a grab for the railing, just catching it with his fingers and making the whole catwalk shake and shudder under his weight. He felt giddy and a little turned on at his own power, realizing he hadn’t ever actually jumped since joining Muscle Club, at least, not with full velocity. He pulled himself up easily and looked down. He was very high up, but he had managed to jump even higher than this. How high had he jumped, and just from a standing start? 40 feet high? 50? He was aiming for the stairway, so how high could he have gone if he had been aiming for the roof? His head was dizzy at the prospect. Just how strong was he? He knew the legs and glutes were the biggest muscles on anyone’s body, and now he had an idea of how powerful his were. “Fuck,” he said softly. Then he shook his head and shrugged before heading along the catwalk toward the office. The huge, naked, muscle-bound man approached walked along the side of the building. The scent of men was less noticeable up here, but it was also hotter and his skin was quickly glazed in a glistening coat of sweat. He looked like some superhuman metal sculpture come to life, striding like a colossus in the sky. He stood at the door—locked, of course—and realized he was too big to fit through it. He didn’t want to shrink himself back down, he was really enjoying being so huge and feeling so powerful, but business is business. He assumed his less miraculous dimensions, shrinking back to a height of just under six-and-a-half feet, and turned the locked handle. The metal twisted and collapsed in his powerful grip, but it certainly did the trick. The door opened and he went into the darkened room. It was mostly empty, too. A couple of desks with drawers half-opened, some chairs, a filing cabinet. The usual office things arranged against the four walls with another locked door against the opposite side of the room. There were no papers with elaborate goodbyes from the trumans, no envelope with his name mysteriously printed on it, nothing at all that would yield any more information about the disappearance of the race of supermen. He walked across the office to the other door and forced it open as well, thinking “that’s three charges of breaking and entering so far—plus whatever I’d be charged with for the cum shower downstairs. Malicious creaming?” He smiled at his lame joke as he entered the next room. It was dark. Very dark. Unlike the office space, this room had no windows and did not front the huge gym floor. The scent in here was quite strong, but different as well. Not the mingled smell of hundreds of men, but the concentrated scent of just one. How he knew the difference he couldn’t say, but he was sure of it. This office had been occupied by a single man—or a single truman—and his scent was still here, and quite engaging. Tim closed his eyes and breathed the man inside. Jesus, he smelled good. He’d never smelled anyone like him before, even amongst his brothers in the Club or Mr. Titus. It smelled of power and strength and domination and command. He could not name each of the scents that made up the man’s unique smell. Leather, maybe. Loam and burning cedar. Ozone. Sweat. Jockstrap. Ball sack. Ass. Muscle. Power. It was the pure scent of masculine supremacy, the most potent Alpha Dog of all. It left him feeling slightly dazed and immensely horny. His cock was swelling toward its fullness again as if the owner were still here, stroking and licking and sucking on his prick, pulling him quickly to the edge of an explosion. The scent of the man was like a drug, a narcotic, a stimulant that bathed him in the owner’s powerful ascendancy. It was a fog of pure masculine perfection, distilled within the walls of the room like perfume in a bottle. His cock was leaking copiously as he stepped into the darkness. A soft, deep moan escaped his throat. He wanted to drink that scent into his massive, powerful form. He wanted to feel it flow over his skin, wind around his balls, lick the hole of his tight, muscled ass. Whose room was this? Who had been in here? How could their scent have lingered so strongly—or was this only a whisper of whatever the man actually smelled like? Was this just a taste of his full, gorgeous power? And where the fuck was he now? Tim tested the light switch but the power was dead. “Hello?” he said, tentatively, his own deep bass filling the silence. But no one answered back. There was no one here, and nothing but the powerfully aromatic aftermath of the owner’s occupancy. He breathed it in. Sucking the magnificent splendor of pure male sex inside his lungs, feeling it on his skin like a thick fog, tasting on his tongue like musk and smoke. He could almost feel the other man’s power, as if they were standing chest to chest, cock to cock, rubbing against each other’s hyper masculine forms. He came again. He came because he couldn’t help it. He came because he wanted to. His cock rose up and the head bloomed and the shaft turned glassy and red and a fat, full stream of rich, powerful cream erupted from the eye and sailed into the darkness. He heard it splatter and he came again and again, shoving a form of reverence for the owner’s unbridled masculine power into the absent man’s lair. He raised his arm beside his head and breathed in his own heavy musk. He pushed his tongue against the firm, round surface of his arm and licked his own biceps. He groaned and came and let his hands explore the muscled contours of his own body, his cobblestone abs, his massive, ponderous pectorals, his full, round, beautiful ass, worshiping himself as he would worship the man who had been here, worshiping masculine beauty and muscular strength and perfect, virile dominion. He emptied his copious balls and stood there, his erection throbbing and dripping, staring into the darkness. “I… My name is Tim Balmer,” he announced to no one. “I want to talk to you. I want to meet you. I...I’ll be at the local college. I don’t know what’s happening to me, or how big I’ll get. I don’t even know….” His voice trailed off. He suddenly felt absurd talking to the darkness. He gathered up the pearly drop of cum clinging to the tip of his raging hard-on and sucked it off his finger, feeling it coat his tongue with its salty tang. It melted into him, like it always did, and warmed his muscles. “I’m Tim,” he said again. There was no answer. Tim pivoted around and walked back through the main office, pausing outside the door and looking across the cavernous space. He could see his footprints in the dust below, and the splattered wetness of his first fountain of cum, resulting just from being within the lingering masculine power of the place. He could still smell the occupant from the back room on his skin, like a cologne of muscle and male energy suffusing his flesh. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. It made his deflating prick throb eagerly and his asshole tingled as if licked. Whatever had happened inside these walls, the effects lingered even months later. And whomever had occupied that dark space back there, his power was so strong and overwhelming that it could make a man come just by opening the door on an empty room. Tim sighed and hopped over the railing, dropping 30 feet to the ground and rolling to a stop, his flawless, sun-kissed skin coated in dust. He rose to his feet, brushed himself off, and walked toward the pile of his clothing near the broken stairway, a beautiful god striding the halls of Valhalla in all his naked perfection. He didn’t want to get dressed. He liked being naked. His body liked it. But one couldn’t just wander onto campus in the altogether, could one? He was certain his presence would be noticed one way or another. He was kind of hard to ignore. He hiked the jeans up his muscled legs and squeezed his prick along his hip. After fastening the buttons against his bulging crotch, he pulled the Polo shirt over his head and wrestled his shoulders and arms into the sleeves before pulling the cotton across his mammoth pectoral shelf. His nipples sent shocks of bliss toward his groin as the material dragged across their sensitive caps, and then he stepped into his flip-flops and heaved his nylon duffel over one shoulder. “Thanks,” he said to no one in general. “I needed that.” He took a last look around and pulled in a long, satisfying inhalation of the scent that permeated everything in the huge space. The scent of men. The scent of power. Then he headed for the exit. Standing outside again, he shouted, “Sorry about the locks!” to no one, and closed the doors. The interior space fell silent and still. Tim’s copious load was splattered in a fan across the floor. More of it lacquered the walls of a darkened room upstairs. In a far corner of the space, a slight shimmering occurred as if the wall of brick were turning insubstantial or melting. The shimmering coalesced and solidified into a recognizable shape. A shape with two arms and two legs. A shape towering nearly eighteen feet high, and eight feet across. A face formed, a man’s face, inhumanly handsome, godlike in fact. The figure stepped free of the wall and became flesh, a towering man of impossible proportions, with muscle swelling outward in thick folds and hard bulges. A carpet of dark fur crawled across his chest, broken only by two fat nipples like chocolate kisses on his pectoral globes. More fur lined his legs and arm, less dense and perfectly arranged, and a thick forest of pubes erupted above the twin monsters hanging in lush abundance between his monstrous thigh. His full, moist lips pursed into a kind of pout. His green eyes, shadowed under a heavy brow, sparkled like gems. He was completely naked—absolutely naked—awesomely naked. He strode toward the pools of Tim’s cooling cream and bent down, placing a huge hand into the sticky goo and watching his skin absorb it completely. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, as if listening to something. After he had pulled every drop of the smaller god’s essence inside him, he looked at his palm and rubbed his fingers together, feeling an odd tingling there, and an uncustomary sensation of cooling warmth, like mint inside his mouth. “Different,” he said softly, though his size and power augmented and amplified his voice in the space. He stood again, a towering god, and looked toward the double doors, one eyebrow arched and a sideways grin on his sexy mouth. Part 4 November “What are you doing?” “Nothing,” Barry answered a bit guiltily. “Doesn’t look like nothing,” Tim observed, closing the dorm room door behind him. Barry was lying on his own bed, naked as the day he was born. His eyes had been closed and his hand was resting on his half-erect dick, though he was not stroking himself when his hugely muscled and sexually powerful roommate entered their shared room. He was breathing slowly, his slim belly rising and falling and his chest expanding with every inhalation. “I was… Did you know that you’re leaking?” Tim’s brow furrowed and his lips pursed. He looked down at his thickly bulging body, overwhelmed with hard curves and swelling muscular mounds, only vaguely camouflaged by his necessarily tight clothing. “Leaking?” “Not literally. But… I could feel you coming.” “Feel me coming?” “Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” “I’m just going to repeat everything you say,” he answered. “Until you say something that makes sense.” Barry sat forward. His half-hard cock wavered as he let loose of it, and a shadow of a six-pack appeared on his otherwise smooth stomach. “We need to get you someone,” Barry answered. “I don’t think this is working anymore.” “This? Which this?” “You and me, in this little room, stroking off.” “Why do you say…?” “You’re leaking. The...whatever it is that you do. Or have. Or make. That sensation of sex that throbs from you like radio signals. They’re getting stronger. And I can feel them, like, all the time, now.” “All the time?” His roommate nodded. “All the time. They get stronger the closer you get. I could feel you approaching. I could feel you coming up the stairs and down the hall. So I was lying here kind of enjoying the sensation of you. I was wondering how closely I could follow you around, just by feeling your effect on me.” “Does anyone else…?” Barry’s face looked doubtful for a moment, as if he was holding something back. “Dunno. But I do.” He narrowed his gaze. “You didn’t know, did you?” Tim shook his handsome head. “No,” he answered, sounding a bit sheepish. “How strong…?” “I’m not coming, am I? So it’s not like I’m springing a boner as you walk towards me. But it’s definitely palpable.” He tilted his head. “I’d say on a scale of one to ten, with ten being you and me in here going off like fucking fountains as usual, you’re at a five just standing there right now. You were at three when you came in downstairs. And I can sort of always feel you at stage one no matter where you are.” “Feel me?” He nodded. “It’s like a nice beer buzz. You know, feeling relatively good, kind of floaty. But instead of being drunk, I’m just horny.” “But you’re always horny,” Tim protested. “Agreed, but I can tell the difference. It’s like...like you’re an added flavor. A nice one. But definitely different.” He saw his roommate growing concerned and sat up. “Look, I’m not bitching about this. It’s not bad. It’s kind of nice, actually. I would have said something about it but to be honest, I kind of like it. Having you buzzing around my libido like a bee. It feels good.” “Does anyone else…?” He shrugged again. “Maybe? Probably? Isn’t this, like, normal for you?” “I don’t know what normal is. Me and my friends back home, we were all like this,” he said, indicating his hugely muscled frame and the major bulge in his always full basket. “Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t. Maybe it’s just you, because you and me are always… you know.” “I know,” Barry answered, laughingly. “Look, don’t get bent out of shape about this. Like I said, I don’t mind it.” “It’s not you,” he said. Then he shook his head. “No, I mean, it’s not just you. I’m worried that others are feeling it. I’m worried that maybe I’m losing control of it. I mean, what happens if it keeps getting stronger? What happens when I’m just, like, walking down the street and everyone is popping woodies because I’m…” “Leaking.” “Yeah.” “Well, I wouldn’t worry about that, dude. Like I said, it feels nice. I’m not complaining.” “Yet.” He shrugged. “Whatevs.” He looked down at his half-hard dick and then back up at his roommate. “I’m feeling kinda horny. Did you want to release the kraken?” Tim opened his mouth to respond, but there was an unexpected knock at the door. Barry pulled a sheet across his naked body as Tim opened the door. “Uh, hello.” “Hi, I’m Mike.” “Hello, Mike.” Tim turned to look at Barry with a quizzical expression, one eyebrow arched and his lips twisted into an odd smirk. Then he turned back. “I’m Tim,” he said. “Yeah,” Mike answered, smiling, “I know. Barry’s told me all about you.” “Has he now?” He looked at his roommate again. Barry pulled the sheet off and stood up, coming behind Tim’s massive frame. “Yeah, um, I was mentioning to Mike about you and he really wanted to meet you.” “I see. Well, uh, Mike… you should come in.” “Thanks!” He did so, squeezing his lanky body between Tim’s towering mass of muscle and the door frame. They traded places for a moment as Tim watched the other dude go inside. Then he said, “Could I have a word with you out here, please, Barry?” “Out there?” “Yes.” “In the hallway?” “Yes.” “Wouldn’t you rather come in and…?” “I’d rather have a word with you outside. Please.” Barry looked at Mike, then shrugged. “Make yourself homely,” he told the other young man, and then Tim and Barry stepped into the small hallway and Tim closed the dorm room door. “What did you want to talk about?” Barry asked, innocently. Tim crossed his meaty arms over the two powerful globes of brawn mounted on his chest. Barry could practically hear the muscle compress. “What goes on?” Tim asked, darkly. Barry tried to continue to look innocent. “What?” Tim nodded toward the door. “Who’s Mike?” “Mike?” “Yeah, Mike.” Barry shrugged. “Just a friend. Guy I met in class. Nice guy!” “Uh huh.” He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “And what is Mr. Nice Guy doing here?” “What do you mean?” “Barry,” Tim said, tilting his head, “I’m sure it didn’t escape your attention that Mr. Nice Guy isn’t wearing any clothes.” “He isn’t?” Barry’s eyes went wide in surprise. “Well, hell, I didn’t even notice!” “So…should I ask again, or are you going to tell me….” Barry held up his hands, placatingly. “Okay, okay, look. You’re wearing me the fuck out.” “I’m wearing you….” “The fuck out. I mean, I don’t want to complain, but how much raw spunk is an ordinary guy like me expected to produce?” “So you just thought….” “I just thought, like, maybe if there was more than one target of your….you know. That, like, I could give my balls a bit of a rest and….sorry, excuse us,” Barry interjected, moving aside so one of their dorm buddies could pass. He only gave them a cursory glance—everyone was used to Tim’s appearance and size by now, and seeing some naked guy wandering around in the dorms wasn’t so unusual, either, given the on-going heat, the all-male nature of the place and the communal showers at the end of every floor. “I just thought maybe if we...diluted...that thing you do, that I could get a little relief.” “Who’s Mike?” “Mike’s cool!” “Regardless of his cool, I don’t know him. How much did you share about our little entertainments?” “He...he kind of knew about it.” “How could he know…?” “He lives in the room under ours. Like I said, you’re leaking.” “He could feel it?” Barry nodded. “Oh, he could feel it. He’s been feeling it for a couple of weeks, now.” Tim swallowed, experiencing a sinking feeling in his belly. “Well, shit.” “He’s not mad or anything! Just...curious. And, I think, a bit excited.” “Why’s he naked?” He shrugged, but looked slightly guilty. “It wasn’t intentional. Or maybe it was. But I was like ‘are you sure you want to do this?’ and he was all, ‘yeah, sure, why?’ and I said, ‘it’s kind of gay’...because, c’mon, it kind of is.” Tim’s grimace darkened, but he said nothing. “And then he was all, ‘yeah, I’m totally into it’ and I said, ‘do you have any problem jerking off with another guy?’ and he stood up and starts stripping off his gear and I’m like, whoa whoa whoa, cool your jets and he was all ‘but my jets are always warm,’ so...” He shrugged, letting the scene play itself out in Tim’s head. “Is Mike gay?” “I’m not gay,” the third man said loudly, from behind the closed door. “I’m bi.” “He’s bi,” Barry repeated. The door opened, and he was standing there, still naked. “I like girls and guys. I like sex. A lot.” He already had a raging boner throbbing down there. “Are we gonna do this or what?” Tim had to admit that Mike had a nice body. A little thin, but well muscled. He had a long, elegant neck and wide shoulders. His arms could use some toning and he had no chest to speak of, but he’d somehow managed to build himself a nice six-pack and his legs were filled out nicely. “You a runner?” Tim asked. He nodded. “Track and field,” he answered. “Look, Mike, I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all but this is kind of….” “I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he answered, cutting off the huge man’s words. “I’m really excited about this!” Tim glanced down at his hard-as-a-rock erection, throbbing between Mike’s legs with evident eagerness and he said, “Obviously.” “I really want to do it! I mean, I’ve been doing it, but I’d like to be in the same room for a change.” “Let’s get inside. One naked dude in the hallway is one thing, but two naked dudes and a boner is something else.” Tim gestured inside and they all went back into the small dorm room. Between the three of them and the furniture, there was barely enough room. “Shit, you’re big,” Mike observed. “You have no idea,” Barry agreed, suggestively. “Okay, if we’re going to do this, there needs to be some ground rules.” Mike nodded as Barry sat his butt down on his unmade bed. “Number one, and most importantly, no one gets my spunk on them but me, understand?” Barry nodded immediately, but Mike’s brow furrowed. “I mean it, Mike.” “Well, it wasn’t something I was aspiring to, anyway.” He looked at Barry and added, “I like guys and all, but I ain’t looking for a pearl necklace.” “A pearl…?” “Number two,” Tim said loudly. “It’s just us, right? I don’t want this to become some sort of weird club.” “Even if Jeremy knocks on the door?” “That’s between me and Jeremy.” “There’s nothing between you and Jeremy,” Barry said. “Who’s Jeremy?” Mike asked, suddenly interested. “Just a guy,” Tim answered. “It’s just us.” He glanced between the other two smaller men who both nodded agreements. “Third, we do it in here. In this room.” ““But what if…?” “We do it here or nowhere,” he said. “Okay,” Mike agreed, “but if we did it in the showers there’s a lot more room and…” “We do it here or nowhere,” Tim repeated. Mike nodded. “Okay. So, how does it work? I mean, downstairs, it feels like someone is…” “It feels like someone is all over your body, sucking your cock while licking your asshole while pinching your nipples while stroking your skin while sticking their tongue in your mouth,” Barry answered. “Yeah,” Mike agreed. “It feels like that. Very...physical.” Tim said, “It’s just something I can do.” “You a truman?” “No,” he answered. “But you’re like a truman.” “I guess so.” “You don’t know?” “Do you want to talk about me or do you want to start having the ultimate orgasms?” “The latter,” he answered without having to think about it. “Sorry.” Tim shrugged. “I, uh, need to get attuned to you,” he said, looking at the other man intently. “What’s that mean?” “It means,” Barry answered, smiling, “that he’s now going to offer you a few alternatives about what you like, and then he’s going to fucking give it to you all at once, and turned up to eleven.” He looked at the huge man, “Ain’t that right?” “That about sums it up,” he answered. “Just tell me if this feels good.” Tim was just standing there. He didn’t move closer. He never touched Mike or seemed to take any physical action at all, but suddenly Mike could feel—actually feel—a long, wet, warm tongue licking his butthole. He sucked in a sudden, shocked breath and went up on his toes. His cock twitched and his hands tightened into fists. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “Is that a yes?” Tim asked. Mike nodded. “What if we go a bit deeper?” The tongue suddenly seemed to harden and thicken, and it began to push inside his ass and move into his body, pointing its way unerringly toward his prostate where it nudged and thrust and massaged it with an expert touch. Mike was nearly drooling. “Okay,” Tim said. He was smiling. “What did you do?” Barry asked. “You know that thing that you say kind of freaks you out?” Barry nodded. “It doesn’t seem to freak him out at all.” “Oh,” Barry answered, looking at Mike. “Just a few more preliminaries before we get going,” Tim said, as he began to strip the clothes from his amazing and massive body, carefully undoing the buttons on the shirt that seemed designed to caress every swollen mass of strength before shrugging it from his thick shoulders. “It’s kind of a given that you like some things, but there are some others that are a bit more...of a personal taste.” “Do… do it,” Mike whispered. He was already pre-cumming. “Cool,” Tim answered, stepping out of his jeans and kicking them aside. “How about if I just lay them all out for you?” “Jesus, you are huge!” He was staring at Tim’s colossal prick, his mouth agape. Tim lifted his tool into his large grip. “What, this old thing?” Even limp, it easily stretched beyond his palm, the fat plum of the head dangling forward, plump and juicy. “I’m called Tiny Tim back home. You should see some of what my friends are packing.” “Jesus.” “Thank you, I guess,” he said. “Now then, why don’t we get this party started.” “Oh…” was all Mike could manage to enunciate before he felt something odd. Something familiar but not in these circumstances. It was a subtle but insistent sensation, and he realized that someone was kissing his neck. He reached up to feel the person, but there was no one there. A second sensation. More intimate. A warmth surrounding his balls, as if someone was cupping them. Then a gentle massage, fingers rubbing near his taint, a gentle tugging, wetness, maybe. His balls were being played with quite expertly. Looking down, again, there was no one there. He looked up at Tim’s face. The other young man who was smiling. An eyebrow on his majestic head slowly rose, arching with some inner knowledge, and then a third sensation. Pressure on his cock. A hand on his shaft. Squeezing him. Warmth on the tip of his eager dick. Then rubbing. A thumb, on his cock head. Fingers gripping his shaft. Tighter and tighter. Squeezing a fat dollop of pre from the eye. He sucked in a shuddering breath. His body warmed up. There was a pause, and then... He could feel it all as it happened, and it was all happening simultaneously. A tongue in his ear. A finger up his butt. A hand on his cock. A tongue at his asshole. Someone sucking a nipple. And pinching it. And rubbing it. Hands on his neck. Kisses there, too. Someone kneading his buttock. Someone slapping the other one. A mouth surrounding his balls, sucking on them, warming them, wetting them, cooling them with breath. A gentle tugging. Licking his taint. Kissing his mouth. Fucking his ass. It was everywhere, and building in intensity. Kisses, licking, sucking, stroking, squeezing, fucking. His body was being treated to simultaneous and constant attention of the most intimate and satisfying type. He felt hot and wanted to cum, but he didn’t or couldn’t. Someone else was in control. Someone else was bringing him to the edge of complete ecstasy and holding him there, kissing and sucking and stroking and fucking him, coating his skin in bliss and thrusting deep inside him where everything felt good. He was in the throes of a passion and ecstasy that he almost could not bear. Everything felt good. Hands everywhere. Mouths everywhere. Tongues everywhere. An assault of sexual bliss so complete that literally no inch of his naked body was left untouched. Then it ceased, as quickly as it came, and he stood there, eyes closed, breathing hard, his prick pounding a beat against his pelvis and leaking copious streams of clear honey. “Holy fuck,” he whispered. “Well,” Barry said, watching the other man squirm and writhe and moan, obviously undergoing something so blissful that he could not speak, “that was something.” “I wanted to make sure he understood what he was in for,” Tim answered. “Looks like he understands now,” Barry answered, “if his prick is any indication.” “Holy fuck,” Mike said again, opening his eyes and looking at Tim, now naked and majestic and overwhelmingly beautiful. “How…?” He shrugged. “Just something I can do,” he answered enigmatically. Mike looked at Barry, asking, “Every night?” Barry nodded. “Now you see what I’m talking about.” “I guess you ladies have done quite a lot of talking about me,” Tim said. “I trust it was all good.” “Nothing…” Mike struggled to catch his breath. “Nothing could prepare anyone for that.” “Didn’t I tell you?” Barry asked. Tim looked over and said, “But don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, my little pimp.” Again, there was no movement, no change of expression, no indication that he did anything at all, but Barry’s eyes went wide and he sucked in a shuddering breath and his cock inflated to instant hardness. Tim showered his roommate with a kind of sensual assault that turned him inside out. He bit his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut and his muscles tightened as Tim’s expert and now finely-tuned mental acrobatics delivered a stream of intense and incredible sexual sensations both inside and outside of Barry’s body. He moaned and groaned and writhed in evident orgasmic bliss. His cock turned beet red and swelled to glassy enormity. He broke into a sweat that coated his skin with a glistening varnish and his breathing became shallow and insistent. Mike looked at the other boy on the bed in wonder and curiosity. “What’s happening?” he asked quietly. “Just giving someone his reward,” Tim answered. Barry swallowed drily. “More,” he said softly. “You sure, Bud?” Tim asked. Barry nodded, biting his bottom lip. Tim looked at Mike and said, “Did you want in on this or what?” “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that,” he admitted. Tim smiled. “Say when.” It struck Mike again, and all at once. Sucking, stroking, kissing, licking, fucking. His body was being pleasured with an inhuman and supernatural intensity from every angle all at once. “Aw, fuck me,” he nearly shouted. Tim sighed. “Unfortunately, that’s the one thing that I can’t do.” He watched the other two young men fall into the deep well of his masculine power, sending the sexual vibrations that he produced into their brains, and making their bodies heat up to overload with pleasure. He could control the sensations now quite easily, pinpointing both men’s pleasure points and stroking them with expert finesse. He didn’t know how or why he could do this, he wasn’t really even conscious of the act. It was innate to him, like breathing. He could feel the men inside his head, feel their sex and power and need, and he could feed them what they wanted in seemingly limitless supply—just by thinking it. The sound of their moans of pure ecstatic bliss filled the room. Their cocks were rock hard and leaking streams of pre-cum. Their naked bodies glistened with sweat and they were standing the the verge of perfect orgasmic release. Tim kept them there, allowing them to swim in his sea of pleasure, and he smiled with satisfaction. He began to stroke his own tool and release the unfettered flow of transform-influenced sex that his brain could not contain. He grew hard instantly, his own mammoth cock swelling fat and long, a majestic idol to sex. It sprang up and slapped his abs, slicking his darkly tanned flesh with a trail of honey. “Feel good?” he asked them. They could not speak, but Mike nodded as he literally drooled with pleasure, and Barry could only moan louder in reply. “Yeah,” he said, smiling, “me, too.” He pulled in a long, deep breath as he placed his hand on his monster and felt the electric shock of intense sexual pleasure shake his body. He closed his eyes to fully experience the overwhelming bliss his body delivered so effortlessly, and allowed a thin stream of his transform-powered gratification to travel to the two men prostrate before him, like worshipers before their god. Mike came instantly. He arched his back and sucked air inside his chest and his eyes popped open. He had never felt anything so intense in his life. Nothing had prepared him for it. His cock exploded all over his naked flesh, bathing him in warm cream. Barry’s body was more accustomed to Tim’s overwhelming sexual power, and he didn’t cum all at once. He felt the pulse enter and he grew much hotter and felt like his dick was swelling with size and weight. He felt something in his body twist or bend or break, as if a wall had been breached, and he gasped and sighed. Tim opened his eyes and looked at Mike, smiling to himself. Licking his lips, stroking his massive fount, he pushed a little harder and made him cum again, watching the young man’s dick swell and redden and spit a thick stream of sticky white cum across his skin. “Nice,” he said gently. “Want some more?” Mike nodded, still stroking, lost in orgasmic perfection. Tim pushed at him again, tickling his pleasure centers, stroking his sex drive, providing the sensation of being fucked and sucked and kissed and rimmed and caressed all at the same time. Mike pulled in a shuddering breath and arched again and sprayed a thick fountain that shot so hard, it struck the wall behind the bed. Tim looked at Barry, twisting his lips into a smirk. “Holding out on me, Barry?” His roommate opened his eyes and smiled, nodding slightly. “Well, that just won’t do. Here, lemme help you along.” Tim shoved a hard pulse of sex at his friend. He watched it take effect, but Barry still didn’t come. Tim allowed a slight look of surprise to show on his handsome face and he doubled his effort, shoving himself virtually at Barry, pushing inside, allowing the weight and strength and power of Transform to deliver a thicker, broader, harder throb of sex to Barry’s body. He gasped. He grinned. His muscles tensed and he grabbed his cock hard and squeezed it. The head bulged and grew purple and glassy. “Resisting me, are we?” Tim asked. He looked at Mike. “Watch this,” he said. Then he turned up the volume, taking things to the next level on Barry’s naked form. “Let’s turn it up a few notches, Barry. What do you say?” “Bri… bring it on,” he gasped. “A challenge. Very nice,” Tim admitted. “I like a challenge.” He smiled. “But one should always be careful what one wishes for.” “Do it,” Barry responded. “I...I want...it all.” Tim shrugged. “You asked for it.” He’d never done this before, unleash the full power of what he could do on someone who wasn’t in Muscle Club. He was stroking his own huge tool, feeling the throbbing sensation of sexual bliss traveling from his touch down his thick shank and spreading throughout his massive body. He gathered himself for the delivery, taking off the filters and removing any of the limits he had placed on himself, intending to open the firehose and allow Barry to feel exactly what it was like to be in Muscle Club. He closed his eyes. He stretched his thickly muscled arms out from his body. His chest swelled up magnificently. His shoulders piled high with fat lobes of brawn. His belly was a cobblestone road. His cock throbbed and swelled and lengthened. Concentrating hard, moving all his attention and mental effort toward the task, he brought his hands together and opened his eyes in one, fast, strong gesture. There was a loud, resounding clap. He unleashed his bomb. Like ripples in a pond, his explosion of masculine sexual power resounded outward, centralized on Barry but too strong, too powerful to be so easily focused. Those nearest to the dorm room where the three naked young men were felt it strongest. Some came spontaneously in their shorts, their cocks swelling with sudden urgency and releasing a torrent of hot, thick cream. Further out, there were still orgasmic releases, but not as strongly. Going further away from the center of the explosion, boys’ pricks throbbed and swelled, their balls seized up, the hairs on the back of their necks and their arms stood on end, nipples tingled with sudden delight, or a trickle of unaccountable sweat found its way between the cheeks of their asses and licked their holes. In one way or another, and to varying degrees, every man—young and old and in-between—within a quarter-mile radius could feel Tim’s sudden surge of pent-up sexual power. Tim realized he’d done something he shouldn’t have when he watched his roommate’s body swell in size with sudden speed. He had not touched Barry, either physically or with any sperm. Tim hadn’t even cum, yet, though he could feel his load like an overwhelming burden wanting release. His balls felt like they were made of lead, and they throbbed with unusual discomfort. Barry didn’t inflate to Muscle Club size. Instead, as his cock finally succumbed to Tim’s onslaught and fountained a thick load of cream in s sudden, steady flow, Barry’s muscles swelled everywhere and all at once, gaining size and definition that was clearly visible and remarkable, but he wasn’t blowing up like some steroid-pumped bodybuilder. No secondary cock made an appearance, and his body didn’t seem to be gaining any height. Instead, all his muscles, every single one, increased from average to pronounced. Tim watched the definition of every lobe, cable and ball of muscle inflate under his skin. He moaned and writhed in evident bliss as his body changed in a matter of seconds, all his muscles increasing in size so that he was definitely bigger than before. Tim looked at Mike, who was still lost in the aftermath of Tim’s explosion. Although Tim didn’t witness any changes, Mike looked a bit more developed, too. Not as much as Barry, but there was a definite six-pack and a set of smooth pectorals where there wasn’t before. Something happened. Something Tim did had physically altered these two dudes. And he didn’t have to cum on them at all! Shit! Barry was still cumming! He had his grip on his erection and it was spouting like a geyser! A shower of cum was splattering adjacent his skin, and his newly-grown muscle. Even Mike came again, though where his balls had obtained any more cream was beyond Tim’s understanding. Tim whispered, “shit,” but there was no time at the present to do anything. His balls were filled, too, and his cock was beating a rhythm against his belly, ready to set off another explosion that—if he wasn’t careful—really would induct both these guys into Muscle Club whether they wanted it or not! He went into the bathroom and shut the door. He could still hear Barry’s moans of pleasure, deeply masculine sounds that got into his head and made him hornier, still, so he grabbed on to his foot-high hard-on and let ‘er rip, sending thick ropes of cream toward the ceiling and plastering his own body with the copious streams of hot, wet sex. With his orgasm unleashed, and as powerful as it was, he inadvertently sent out another, smaller detonation of his masculine sex bomb. The ripples were smaller and didn’t travel as far, but anyone within the dorms felt another hot rush of sex into his body, and those closest to Tim’s room were rewarded with a second, less intense bout of orgasmic perfection. Outside the bathroom door, Barry gasped and opened his eyes and felt his body swell. His cock squirted a load that splattered over his belly and chest, and he watched the white cream gathering into crevasses and folds between mounds of muscle that weren’t there only a minute ago. Finally registering what had happened, he sat up quickly and his hands flew to the muscled mounds of his chest, cupping the firm brawn that was growing there. He could feel himself getting bigger, feel his muscles develop, blooming with size and power. “Holy fuck,” he said. “I’m fucking growing!” The words registered to Tim’s ears and he stopped himself and asked, “What?” Barry answered, “What the fuck did you do? I’m fucking growing!” “Shit,” Mike said, looking at himself. “Me, too!” “Jesus!” Barry moved his hand onto his new six-pack. “Jesus!” he said again. Then further down to his prick, wrapping his hand around it and realizing at once that it was now bigger, as well. “Fuck!” A grin came to his lips and he gazed now on all the new muscle that had swelled up under his skin, stretching it tighter against his body, giving him incredible definition and making his new muscle look even bigger. He lifted his arm and watched the biceps grow. He could see individual cables and fibers beneath the skin. He put his other hand on his muscle and squeezed against it, feeling how hard and firm it was. “What...what did you fucking do?” “Hold on a sec,” Tim answered, “I’m kind of in the middle of something in here.” “Well, I’m kind of in the fucking middle of something, too!” He plucked at the new growth of curls sprouting between his heavy pecs. He pinched the fat nub of a nipple perched on the edge of the muscle. His grin turned into a broad smile as a fresh rush of sexual excitement made a beeline for his cock. Mike’s body was not as thickly muscled as Barry’s, but his new size was equally apparent. His formerly smooth frame was now gifted with a flat, tight stomach and stronger, more prominent pectoral plates. Veins had appeared on his arms, and there were definite biceps and triceps now, slim but prominent bulges where there were only suggestions of muscle. His legs had new definition, too, and everything was in perfect, symmetrical development. He was fucking ripped! Then he looked at his prick, and his eyes went wide. The bathroom door opened and Tim stood there looking sheepish. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what happened.” Barry sprang from his bed and wrapped his arms around the huge young man. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” he said, nearly dancing with joy. “You’re… not mad?” Barry backed away and spread his arms out. “Do I look like I’m fucking angry? This is fucking….amazing! I mean...look at me!” He started to pose, sending his new collection of brawn into spasms of hard beauty. Now that he was on his feet, Tim realized that Barry was remarkably bigger, having gained maybe 30 pounds of muscle on his formerly slim form. He was no taller than he had been, but the muscle made him look huge, now. Thick pecs, a prominent six-pack, arms swollen with firm mounds and legs thick with wedges of power. He was big everywhere—not to mention that his cock looked longer and thicker, too. “Whoa,” Tim said, looking at the thicker shank of sex meat hanging between Barry’s heavy legs. His roommate grabbed his new cock and waged it at Tim. “I know, right? I’m fucking hung!” “No fucking shit,” another voice said. They both looked over and there was Mike, sitting up, his back against the wall, his legs splayed before him. He was certainly bigger too, more muscular and, somehow, handsomer. He had his hands behind his head and he was looking down toward his crotch, where sat an amazing and lip-smacking sight for Tim. Mike’s prick was huge! Bigger, even, than Barry’s! He’d certainly also gained muscular size, but that was nothing compared to the fat snake that was laying all the way across his hip. It had to be nine inches lone—easily twice its original length—and thick enough to choke all but the most seasoned and eager cocksuckers. The skin of his cock was darker than the rest of him, and Tim realized now, for the first time, and Mike was at least partially Latino. It was in his dark, liquid eyes and the slight kink of his hair and most definitely in that gag-inducing shank of meat! “Fuck!” Barry said. “Jesus!” “Whoa,” Tim said again. Mike just smiled and moved one hand onto the beauty and stroked it with obvious devotion. “Fuck is right. I wonder what this beauty looks like at full strength.” “No way it gets bigger than that.” Mike met Barry’s eyes and just smiled. “What the fuck happened?” It was Tim who asked the question that was on all of their minds. “You don’t know?” He shook his head. “Nothing like this ever happened before.” Then he looked at Barry and corrected himself. “Well, something like this has happened before, but never without my cum.” “Your cum?” Mike asked. Tim and Barry both nodded. “But I never even touched you. And I never even came—at least, not until I was out of the room.” “But you did something.” “Just the… you know… the sex vibes or whatever.” He was watching Mike pet his snake, watching it start to swell and harder, stretching along his hip and arching upwards. “Well, I’m not complaining, bro.” He placed his fingertips on his new prominent six-pack and gingerly felt each bulge of power. “This is sweet!” Mike asked, “Can you go back to the ‘not without my cum’ part, again?” Tim sighed. “It’s a long story.” Then he looked at Mike’s burgeoning boner. “Are you fucking getting hard?” Mike grinned slyly. “Already?” Mike shrugged. “But….but you just came a bucket of cream! You shouldn’t… you can’t….” “Alls I know is that I am horny as a fucking unicorn. It feels like I got a load and a half in my balls and my dick is getting hard as steel.” He tilted his head and added. “It doesn’t help that you’re standing there naked looking all kinds of amazing, and that Barry has suddenly put on on much muscle that he looks like he could bench press a fucking semi.” “You’re…?” “I told you, Tim. I’m bisexual. I like it any way I can get it. And looking at you two super studs in the all-together has my engines revving at full throttle.” He was solely stroking his now semi-hard dick as it continued to grow towards erection and asked, “About that cum part?” “He’s a muscle making machine,” Barry answered. Was his voice also slightly lower in register, now? “Take a look at this bruiser.” He swelled his right arm into massive power. “Oh, I am,” Mike answered. His cock pulsed as if verifying the claim, and the head bloomed forward by another inch. “Yeah, well… Tim and his friends are like the trumans. You’ve heard of them, of course.” Mike nodded. “Something happened to them, something…. Well, why don’t you tell it? It’s your story!” “So, long story short, these two guys back at my high school found something online. I didn’t see it, but they said it was a truman jacking off and sucking his own dick.” Mike’s dick pulsed again. He swallowed drily as he imagined the scene of someone who looked like Tim sucking his own cock. “So, one thing leads to another and at some point on this video, the guy cums, right? Then he reaches forward and touches the screen and all hell breaks lose.” “Define all hell.” “The one guy discovers that by watching the video over and over, he starts getting bigger.” “Like us?” Tim nodded. “So he says. So he watches it a lot, maybe for a weekend or something, and keeps getting bigger. More muscle, anyway. Probably more dick, too. I mean, based on…. Anyway, his friend comes over and sees him and goes bat shit and wonders what the fuck happened. So he sits his friend down and makes him watch it, too. But it only has a little effect on a guy—except that the other guy…” “The bigger guy.” “Right, the bigger guy—he knows that if a truman cums on you, you become a truman too.” “Yeah, I remember something like that. That was the story.” “It’s true!” Barry interjected. “He can do it, too!” “You’ve seen him do it?” “Not me, no. But, I mean, look at this fucker! He’s huge!” “But that doesn’t explain what happened here just now,” Tim said, doubtfully. “I sure didn’t…” “You said the first guy got big from watching a video. He didn’t get anyone’s cum on him.” “True, but it took a really long time and he had to watch it over and over and…” “But,” Mike said, still stroking his fat cock, “we have the benefit of being in the room with you. You’re not a video. So maybe whatever that first thing was that the video guy delivered, you’ve had that all along, too.” “But this has never happened before!” “Have you ever tried it before?” “I wasn’t trying anything this time!” “Yes, you were. Barry here issued a challenge.” Barry was still checking himself out, running his hands over the new bulges and mounds of brawn that bulged from every inch of his body, but he looked up when he heard his name. “You used to just let the vibes flow, right?” Tim nodded. “But this time you really let him have it. You did something different.” “I guess so.” “Fucking right, you did!” Barry agreed. “It was fucking awesome!” “And whatever that difference was…” He let it trail off, but his looked down at the massive, shiny, beautiful, perfect cock standing at attention between his legs. At full mast, the thing was huge! Easily approaching twelve inches in length, and fat as an over-inflated bicycle inner tube. Veins pulsed along the shaft and the head was glossy with precum. “You’re both taking this pretty calmly.” “I’m fucking stoked!” Barry reported. “I’m pretty pleased myself,” Mike agreed. “Though, now that I see myself at full power, so to speak, I’m kind of wondering how I’m going to fit this thing in Sherry’s pussy.” It was, in fact, an overabundance of cock. Tim’s eyebrow raised. “Sherry? Your girlfriend?” “Nah, just someone I mess around with. Weird goth chick, but she’s cool, and she likes to do some random stuff.” He considered his new, massive sex meat. “Come to think of it, this’ll probably turn her on even more than usual.” He brought his hand to his mouth and spat on his palm before moving it back to his raging hard-on and continuing to stroke himself. “Fuck me, but I think this thing is more sensitive, now, too.” “More inches means more fun,” Barry reported. He opened his mouth to say something else, but he was interrupted by a knock on their door. “One sec!” he called out, then he looked back and forth between the other two. “Now what?” Tim shrugged. “Open the door.” “But...but I’m...I’m huge!” “Were you planning on spending the rest of the year in here?” “I was thinking about it.” “Well, go into the bathroom then. We’ll figure it out later. Get you some oversized clothes or something until you ‘grow into them.’” Tim made air-quotes around the phrase. Then he looked at Mike. “What about you?” He took his hands off his massive shank and folded them behind his head, grinning from ear to ear as his erection throbbed before him. “What the fuck have I got to be shy about?” The knock came again, and Tim opened the door. “Hey, Jonesy.” “What the hell are you guys doing in here?” Maxwell Jones lived in the next dorm room over, near the stairs. His pants were sodden and his face was flush and sweaty. “I just came in my fucking pants!” “Why would we have anything…?” “Where’s Barry?” “In the bathroom.” “Barry! Yo! Tell Mr. Sex Brain here to tone it down. I just let loose with a flood in my shorts!” He looked at Tim, and shook his head. “Look, I don’t mind the occasional hard-on or whatever, but try to tone it down some! These are my favorite pants!” His eyes traveled up and down Tim’s naked body and he blew a breath out his cheeks. “Okay, well, just… you know….” Tim shut the door as Jonesy turned to leave. “Barry? Could I have another word with you. please?” The bathroom door opened and Barry emerged, looking abashed. Tim was still not used to seeing his roommate’s new body and all its muscular beauty, and felt a bit of a sexual rush at seeing his new naked perfection. “Am I right in assuming that it’s not just Mike that knows what goes on in here?” Barry shrugged. “Well, I mean, he lives right next door! And if Mike could feel it one floor down, then…” “Who else?” “Fucking everybody knows,” Mike volunteered. “But if anyone’s to blame, it’s you, not Barry.” Tim turned. “What the hell does that mean?” “You strut around the dorms in the all-together. You’re built like the Incredible Hulk. And every time that door shuts, you’re sending out those fucking sex vibes. We’re all in college, dummy, we’re not stupid. Just horny.” Mike’s deeper voice took on a pleading quality. “I didn’t mean to tell anyone! But, like, everyone was asking, and you were leaking, and what was I supposed to say?” “Everyone knows?” Mike answered for Barry. “Not everyone, and not everything. But some people know some things. You’re the most obvious suspect, Tim. I mean, have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re kind of...noticeable.” “Dude! It makes things easier!” “How does this make things easier, Barry? Everybody thinks I’m a freak, now!” “Nobody fucking cares. You really think we’re all, like, ‘oh, noes, Tim’s back and now I have to feel all sexy and horny and shit.’ No, we’re all, ‘Tim’s back! Cool! Time for the best wank session this side of online porn!’” “Jonesy didn’t look pleased to me.” “You just made him cream his jeans, bro. He’s pissed off about that, not about the fact that you can give the guy a boner and the most satisfying orgasm and you’re not even in the same room. Get some perspective, dude. This is a good thing!” “But what about that?” he asked, pointing at Mike’s giant cock. “And that?” He pointed a thumb towards Barry’s new, incredible body. “How do I explain…?” “Don’t explain. And don’t worry. Neither of us is pissed off, right, Barry?” “Oh, hell no!” He grinned, and brought up his arms and bulged the muscle into impressive relief under his smooth skin. “This is fucking awesome!” He brought them down into a crab pose. Everything inflated to crazy defined brawn. “Right, but…” “No buts, dude. This. Is. Awesome.” He wrapped his roommate in a bear hug, again. Tim could feel every muscle on his body pressing against his own. It reminded him of Muscle Club, and his libido started heating up again, so he pushed Barry away—gently—and said, “No problem.” “Sounds like you’re having a change of thought about hiding your new body,” Mike observed. Barry shrugged. “Maybe.” He looked down at himself. “Seems a shame to hide all this beauty from the world.” “And the chicks,” Mike added. “Goes without saying,” Barry agreed. Tim looked at his roommate. “So… you’re not feeling any… um… how should I put this?” “Gayer?” “To be blunt.” “No more gay than I was. I mean, yeah, you’re all right looking for a dude, but, like, I kinda need tits to, you know, keep my attention.” “Interesting,” Tim observed. “You mean that you weren’t gay and then you were?” Mike asked. “I was gay before,” he reported, “but not every guy in Muscle Club was before, but they most definitely were after. It’s one of the signs.” “What are the other signs?” He shrugged, and counted them off on his fingers like everyone would know them. “Get giant. Get hung. Get another cock. Constantly horny. Get gay.” He left off the part about changing his appearance at will. No need to freak them out. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up a couple. Did you just say ‘get another cock’?” He smiled slyly. “Did I?” Mike looked pointedly at his crotch. “From all appearances, then, you weren’t fully indoctrinated.” “We… can hide it if we need to.” “Hide it?” He looked dubious. “Wanna see it?” “You’ve certainly piqued my curiosity,” Mike answered. Tim shrugged. “Okay,” he said simply. Then he looked down and allowed his secondary prick to swell into magnificence. One moment there was only one, and the next, its brother had pushed out and swelled to its glorious extents, hanging heavily next to its twin, each cock a mirror of the other, both equally thick, long, fat and luscious. “There she blows,” he said, simply, as if anyone could do it. “What the fuck!” Barry was dumbfounded. “You’ve had that all along and you never…?” “A guy’s gotta have some secrets.” “Some? You’ve cornered the market!” He reached out and grabbed his twins in his new, stronger hands. “This must be fucking amazing! Two cocks! Shit!” He stroked his friends pricks, and felt them instantly harden in his hands. “Fuck! These things are already hard!” He met Tim’s eyes. “Are you always horny?” “I thought I made that clear a long time ago.” He allowed himself to harden to full power. His cocks swelled into massive towers, easily outgrowing Barry’s hands. “Those things go off, you know.” “Fuck,” he said, softly. “I mean… holy fuck!” He looked up again, almost in worship of the huge young man and his overwhelming sexuality. “Maybe you should stop.” Barry smiled. “Should I?” Tim closed his eyes. It felt really, really good. He hadn’t had actual sex with anyone for months. “You really should stop,” he growled. But there was something about having this power over the huge man that Barry was finding quite interesting. “Seems like you like it,” he said. “Seems like you like it a lot.” He opened his eyes. “You know what’ll happen to you.” His cocks started drooling onto Barry’s hands. His handsome roommate nodded. “I’ll get bigger.” “Do you know how big?” “As big as you.” “Maybe bigger,” he responded. “And what else?” “I’ll have two cocks,” he answered. He continued slowly stroking Tim’s twins. Up and down. Up and down. Feeling the heat increase. Feeling them swelling, throbbing, moving in his hands. Like animals, filled up with sex. He nodded, a smile coming to his full, sensuous lips. “And what else?” “I’ll turn gay.” He nodded again. “A fucking faggot. Is that what you want?” Mike was watching with curiosity and growing arousal. Tim seemed to be swelling with muscle. Was he growing bigger? Inflating with power? There was a scent in the room, now. Faint but growing stronger. The smell of need and desire and sex. Barry’s eyes traveled up the beautiful male perfection towering above him. His gaze moved across the masses of muscle, the heavy pectoral globes and their dark, fat nipples poking up above the wealth of the man’s curling fur, the awesome 8-pack abs, swelling and receding as he breathed, the smooth-as-silk skin that practically glowed with health. Veins wound down his thickly muscled arms like rivers over mountains. A thicker vein pulsed in his neck. He could smell his roommate strongly. Smell the strong scent of sex from his ass and his balls and his innate masculine power. His own cock throbbed and sizzled, practically erupting as he knelt before this young god. His hands stroked two fat, thick, long, hard-as-steel cocks that oozed warm honey over his grips. Is that what you want? Do you want all this? Barry swallowed hard. Then he looked into Tim’s eyes, and nodded once. “You’re sure, Barry?” he asked. His voice was deep and powerful, resonant with male potency. “Because there’s no going back.” He opened his mouth. “I want it,” he answered. “I want it all.” Part 5 November “Incognito?” “I know it’s a big word, Frazz, but you can handle it.” “Why the hell would we ever in a million years want to do that?” The other man shrugged. “For a laugh?” He was grinning as he said it. “Because it would be fun?” He licked his bottom lip as he watched his friend and lover stare back at him unblinkingly. “Because I’m fucking bored.” “Now that I can understand,” the dark-skinned man answered. “But...college?” “At least it’s not high school,” he added, hopefully. “No way I could do that again, no matter how incognito we were.” He pulled a slow breath into his lungs and looked up at the high beams criss-crossing the ceiling overhead. “Kind of a waste,” he observed. His strong voice echoed off the walls of the abandoned Transform Gym, and he breathed in the innate sense of the masculine power that lingered here like mist on a lake. His friend looked up, too. “Had to be big,” he said. “Well, obviously,” Frazz agreed. “Still doesn’t make it any less of a waste.” Chuck sighed. “Do you miss it?” “It?” “Them?” “How can you miss something that never goes away?” “You know what I mean.” “There are definitely things I miss about those days, and things I don’t miss.” “Nice to be physical again, isn’t it?” Frazz looked over at his old friend. He was unequivocally beautiful. Almost blindingly so. His features were perfected to a state of godlike magnificence. His body was developed to a flawless and consummate muscular ideal. His skin was as soft as silk, every follicle of hair on his body was shiny, soft, warm. It was hard to find a singular imperfection anywhere on his immaculate form. “It has its advantages.” Chuck’s grin turned sideways. “You’re staring,” he observed. “It’s hard not to.” He approached his lover and placed his hands behind Chuck’s strong neck, looking into his sea green eyes and smiled. “It’s nice to see you again,” he admitted, then he kissed his furry friend’s full, soft lips. Chuck wrapped his arms around Frazz’s dark-skinned muscles and pulled him close, locking lips with him and pushing his tongue into the other man’s warm, wet mouth. He could feel Frazz growing quickly aroused, and the other man’s strong, intense scent began to manifest. He smiled despite himself and started to chuckle. “Damn,” he growled, “you’re so fucking hot.” Frazz smiled too, pulling his lips off Chuck’s mouth and looking into his eyes. “You say that like you’ve forgotten.” The other man shrugged his gigantic shoulders. “I kinda did.” “Well then, let me remind you how hot I can get,” Frazz answered, pushing Chuck’s body around and forcing him to the floor. A cloud of dust rose around them as his huge form struck the floor, the sheer tonnage of muscle making the floor complain. “You need fucking,” he announced. Chuck wiggled his perfect ass. “Think you’re the man to do the job?” he teased. Rather than answer, Frazz pushed himself inside his lover’s tight, perfect hole and proceeded to show him that he was exactly the perfect man for this job. • • • • The sex was insane. Each of them released months and years of pent-up energy, unleashing their unlimited and unending supply of masculine and sexual power on each other’s bodies. The huge room shook as they threw themselves—literally as well as figuratively—into the coupling. The sex was rough, and tender, and hard, and soft. They came onto and into each other, releasing tides and fountains and showers of warm, powerful cream from their bulging balls. Each had evolved into the ultimate expression of a transformed man, with bottomless sexual wells to draw from, and massive muscular power to use on each other. They wrestled and kissed, they forced each other into submission and then relented, pushing their huge cocks into each other’s asses and mouths, sucking and fucking with complete and utter abandon of any rules, roles or expectations. It was the release of months of pent-up sexual tension and power. Neither man knew that he needed it so badly until both were fully engaged in the action. Then, the gloves came off and the cocks inflated to full glorious power and they used each other’s body however they could imagine. Hours went by. Day darkened to nighttime. The gym was a wreck of broken wood and bent steel. They’d thrown themselves and each other into the action, laughing and clawing and fucking and wrestling with their huge, limitlessly powerful and perfectly developed bodies. At around midnight, after nearly eight full hours of doing nothing but having the most incredible and fulfilling sexual escapades imaginable—and the kind that only two men so radically transformed could even attempt—they were lying on the floor of the gym, their sweat slick bodies coated in dirt and smelling of each other’s pure masculine scents, their cocks still hard and pulsing with need, their muscles singing and thick from exertion, and their faces lit by bright, beautiful smiles of complete satisfaction. “Well,” Chuck said, his huge chest rising and falling, looking like a meaty mountain range covered in a dark forest of soft, wet curls, “that was nice.” “That was fucking incredible,” Frazz agreed. “You’ve still got it, sir.” Chuck laughed softly. “You don’t have to keep calling me sir, Frazz. That was just for effect.” “I know,” his friend said, “but I rather enjoy the effect. Sir.” He pulled himself up and leaned onto his side as he looked at the other huge man. “Tell me again why we stopped doing this.” Chuck was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling high overhead. “If I remember correctly, it was damage control.” Frazz looked around. The room was, indeed, left a shambles. It looked like a war had been fought in the gym, using some very heavy equipment and armaments. He could see indentations where one of them had struck the walls high up, probably while they had been fuck-flying. The beams holding up the roof were bent in places. There were two deep wells in the floor from some hard landings, and signs of their coupling were everywhere. “Ah, yes.” Chuck laughed again. It was a warm, rich sound and it made Frazz’s cocks throb. “No, I mean things were getting out of hand, again. Public perceptions. Problems with the press. Too much attention paid to the wrong things. We had to disappear, and the easiest way to disappear is…” “Is to disappear.” Frazz’s tone was resigned. “Pity,” he summarized. Chuck leaned onto his side, too. His pricks had calmed themselves and they flopped toward the floor. His upper body was amazing, so thick at the top with his massive chest and shoulders, narrowing to an impossibly compact waist, and then widening again so that his hips could support the masses of asstacular muscle bulging from his backside. “Which is why I think we should go back to college.” “This guy you saw….” “Really beautiful, Frazz. I mean… seriously handsome guy.” “Right, right, I got all that. And he’s one of the new ones, from that high school or whatever?” Chuck nodded. “I’ve been… watching them. You know, just to keep tabs on things. And they have a really great guy in charge, takes a strong hand with the men, tries to keep things in control.” “Met him?” Chuck shook his head. “Name’s Billy Titus. He’d be a very interesting addition to our little club.” “Then why haven’t you…?” “He’s got a job to do. We’d just add more….” “Complications.” Frazz pursed his lips. “We tend to do that.” “And you’re not afraid that if we go back to college, as you put it, we’re just going to end up complicating things for this guy, too?” “Think about it, Frazz. What if you were the only transformed guy in a whole college dorm of dudes. With what you feel inside right now. Wouldn’t things get complicated pretty quickly, anyhow?” “So you see this as an act of mercy?” Frazz asked, incredulously. Chuck smiled, recognizing the other man’s tone. “Something like that.” “You’re just horny,” Frazz accused. Chuck looked at Frazz’s slowly throbbing cocks. “Why, hello Pot! My name’s Kettle!” he teased. “But, he’s not really Transformed, is he?” “He’s… different. Not sure why or how. But he’s definitely…” “Different,” Frazz said. Chuck nodded. “Different how?” Chuck started to get to his feet, offering his hand to help Frazz up as he answered. “Not sure how. Just different. Maybe it’s how he was made. Maybe it’s just him. I don’t know how, but it’ll be interesting finding out.” Frazz sighed. “College huh?” Chuck grinned his sideways smile, know that he had convinced his friend to join the adventure. “What do you propose, that we just show up like this and….” “Well, not like this, obviously,” he said, holding out his thickly muscled arms and displaying the perfection of his massive body. “Disguises?” He made a face. Frazz disliked disguises. “Masquerades,” Chuck finessed. “Like the old days.” “I was hoping we were done with the need for pretending to be something we aren’t.” “Look, I know how you feel. We’re supposed to be out of the closet, so to speak. We’re supposed to be able to just walk around like this and everything’s hunky dory. But you and I both know that’s a fantasy. It’s just not how the world works. It may never be how the world works. But… but this guy… I think he needs our help.” “Our ‘help’?” He grabbed one of his lengthy and impressive dicks and wagged it at his comrade. Chuck sighed. “I know I’m not the most compassionate guy in the world, but I don’t always think with my cock.” “Not always,” Frazz agreed. “Just 98% of the time.” Chuck made a pouty face. “But that’s part of your charm, my man.” He gazed down and raised his eyebrows. “A very, very big part.” He sighed. “Let’s just be honest, here. You and I both know what will happen.” Chuck started to object, but Frazz held up his hands. “We’ll show up determined to be all helpful and shit, but by the time we leave they’ll have a college full of flying supermen with unhinged sex drives and the magical ability to infect every other guy they meet. It’s just how we are. I’m not saying it’s good or bad, but I am saying that it’s inevitable.” “It doesn’t have to be.” “Doesn’t it?” He placed his hand on Chuck’s shoulder. “It’s one of the reasons we disappeared, Chuck. We just can’t help ourselves.” “It could be different this time,” he admitted. “This time, as opposed to all the other times.” He shook his shaven head and twisted his full, sensuous lips into a slight grimace. “Of all of us, you should know better than to think that.” “You’re saying I’m to blame for….” “I’m saying that you’re probably the sexiest motherfucker of us all. I’m saying that even if you could stay your hand, the temptations would be too much for them.” He gestured toward the doors, lending meaning to his words by indicating the world outside. “I’m saying that when they beg you to be transformed, when they’re on their knees before you, worshiping you, pleasuring you, offering anything and everything to be with you—you won’t say no.” He shrugged. “And who could blame you for being you?” Chuck sighed. “I suppose you’re right.” He met his lover’s dark-eyed gaze and smiled. “It was just a dream.” Frazz placed his hand on Chuck’s massive shoulder. “But a nice dream,” he offered. “It’s just too late for us. We’re too….” “Different,” Chuck finished. And Frazz nodded. “Okay, I see your point. And I appreciate your meeting me here.” “We should do it again some time,” Frazz offered. “Definitely,” Chuck agreed. “You… you going back?” “I am,” the dark man said, with finality. “You?” He shrugged. “Probably. But I think I want to hang around for a while. I like feeling physical.” Frazz laughed. “That’s because you’re so good at it.” Chuck laughed too, a deep rumble inside his massive chest. “See you around, lover.” Frazz nodded. “You, too.” Then the dark-skinned giant turned around and walked toward the far wall, his massive muscular frame receding into the shadows and the rubble of their love-making before his body seemed to shimmer and dissolve into the very air. Chuck stood in the empty space for a few moments, just listening to the silence. He was breathing slowly, his eyes closed, existing in his physical form and enjoying its size and weight and power. The other way had its benefits, for sure. The sex was good. Maybe better in some ways, existing in parallel with your lover, experiencing the situation from both sides, sinking so deeply into the sensations that you become lost. But there was much to be said for the old way. The purely physical confrontation. The give and take. The hard breathing, the sweat, the power, the sensation of feeling your balls tingle, your cock throbbing, your body welcoming the intrusion of another, the sensation of being filled up and then of emptying. Kissing, stroking, sucking. So raw that it makes your heart pound in your chest and stars to flash in your eyes. He opened his eyes. “Different,” he said into the emptiness. “Well, fuck that.” • • • • “You’re very late,” the small woman behind the desk reported. “We’re nearly halfway through the first….” “I know,” the young man on the other side of the desk answered. “I’m sorry. It couldn’t be helped.” He smiled. He had a beautiful smile. he had a beautiful everything. “Your transcripts are in order, though….” She was leafing through his papers, frowning slightly. “Though?” “Oh, nothing. It just seems like some of these grades are so….good.” His youthful, handsome visage took on a worried look. It did not diminish his beauty. “Too good?” She waved him off with a fluttering hand. “Oh, no! And clearly you have a lot of athletic promise. But generally someone like you ends up at Harvard, Stanford, Michigan or one of the bigger….” “It’s a….money thing.” She pressed him, allowing her gaze to linger on his beauty and the impressive size of his chest and shoulders. “But, surely there would be scholarships for someone so….” He shrugged, and his shirt nearly tore. “Timing was never my strong suit,” he reported. “Plus, you have some unique curricula that interests me very much.” “And I see that you’ve requested the old male dorm in particular?” “I….heard it has some historical significance.” “History major?” she asked? He shrugged and smiled. “That’s commendable. Usually, someone with your physical… that is to say, athletic talents…?” He shrugged again, and offered an even more beautiful smile. “There’s only one bed left in the dorms.” “I only need one,” he reported. “Of course.” She finished up with his student record on the computer and started to print out his welcoming papers, detailing the college rules, the campus map, extra-curricular activities, and so forth. “Do you go by Charles or Chuck or…?” “Charles,” he said. “I used to go by Chuck, but I prefer Charles, now.” “More grown-up,” she said, a bit condescendingly. “Something like that,” he answered. She rose from her chair and went to the printer, gathering up the sheaths of paper and placing them into a manilla envelope. “We usually have a more formal welcoming kit, but I hope this….” He stood up. He was...quite tall. “Don’t give it a thought. This is great.” He reached out his hand, opening it palm up, stretching it from his sleeve. His arm was quite keenly muscled, almost ludicrously so. The biceps and triceps were easily discerned and very large. Thick veins wound along his forearm, and heavy cables of brawn showed up distinctly under his sun-tanned skin. She was staring at his arm. She had never seen one so intensely muscular before. “My,” she said, softly, “that’s quite something.” His smooth brow wrinkled. “Beg pardon?” He looked down at his arm and a grimace crept across his lips. “Oh. I’ve been….working out. A lot. Lately.” “It shows,” she said. Then she placed the envelope in his hand and looked up. He was certainly handsome. There would be no debate about that. Perhaps the most handsome young man she had ever personally encountered. Classically handsome, in fact, as if he were some Roman statue of a god who had decided to step down off his pedestal. He owned a square jaw, a strong nose, high cheek bones, piercing green eyes and a lop-sided grin that leant his face a very inviting demeanor. She wondered, for an instant, what it would feel like to kiss those full, sensuous lips. To feel the evidently strong arms wrapped around her body. What the sensation of his chest pressed against hers would be. She could easily fall into his embrace and see herself carried away, like some princess in the caring arms of her Prince Charming. He lifted his free hand and pushed the stray locks of jet black hair from those sea-green eyes. He had bushy, masculine eyebrows beneath, on a smooth, youthful, masculine brow. His neck was as heavily veined as his forearm, and she wished fervently that somehow, in some magical fashion, the shirt that so tenaciously clung to the heavy bulges of muscle on his upper body would just melt away, revealing his male beauty to her eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked. Even his voice oozed masculine prowess. “Of course,” she said. “If you want to get settled in, your dorm room is….” He smiled and she melted. “I can find it. Thanks very much!” Charles turned, picked up an empty-seeming backpack and left her office. She watched his ass, encased so perfectly in a pair of navy bluejeans, bob and flex as he walked down the hallway and out of the administration building. His lop-sided smile was on his lips as he left the building. He paused at the steps leading down to the open square, surrounded by the college library, the science building, and some other white stone edifices with large glass windows. He looked down at himself and pulled a long breath into his lungs through his nostrils. He watched the two great plates of his pectoral muscles shove against the material. He felt his nipples drag against the cotton, sending deep sexual thrills through his highly-compressed frame. His visible cock swelled and throbbed with need inside his jeans, but he restrained its power. He could still smell his lover on his body like a musk, and in his scent he experienced the dark man’s power and beauty. Holding himself back was proving harder than he remembered. “Might need to tone things down a notch,” he said to himself. “I keep forgetting how irresistible I am.” He pulled out the map of the grounds and set off for the Men’s Dormitories, with anticipation and excitement on his mind. • • • • “One sec!” Jeremy called. He sighed the sigh of the set-upon and long-suffering, though he was neither, and pulled himself up from his studies. He wished, again, that there was a peephole in his dorm door so he could tell who was there before he opened it. Tim had stopped coming, thankfully, so he didn’t ordinarily have to keep making excuses about his time. He didn’t dislike Tim, but there was something about him that made him decidedly uncomfortable. By now, it was clear to him that Tim was most certainly gay, but rather than make things easier, it just made things harder. And it made some things very much harder. Embarrassingly harder. It was like the guy gave off sex or something. Like Jeremy could feel it pouring off his huge body. But he knew that was only his head trying to fuck with his body. Tim was incredibly sexy, that was all there was to that. And that made him incredibly threatening to someone both ashamed and frightened by their own desires. The knock came again just as he was twisting the knob. Then his gaze fell onto a striped V-neck T-shirt that was straining mightily to hold the chest of the man standing on his threshold inside. “Hi!” he said. His voice was deep, and also musical. It swam into Jeremy’s ear and tickled it like a wet tongue. “I’m your new roommate!” Jeremy looked up. The face of the young man was smiling down at him. It was a face that made Jeremy feel a bit weak in the knees and made his breath catch. It was the kind of face he would sometimes encounter in magazines, pasted on half-naked underwear models, smiling back at him because they knew he wanted to look at them. It was the kind of face that didn’t really exist in real life, because no one actually looked that good. “Huh...hello.” The incredible face tilted slightly. “Can I come in?” “What?” “In? Me? There? Roommate?” His voice was now inside Jeremy’s head, licking his libido, wrapping itself around his sex drive and squeezing with evident experience. “Oh, sorry. I, uh, I don’t have a roommate.” “I’m afraid you do,” he answered, pulling a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans. Jeremy followed the young man’s actions with his eyes, and he gulped at the heavy basket jutting forward so prominently from his crotch. There was a hint of dark curls erupting above his waistband, below the hem of his very small T-shirt. The young man unfolded the paper—Jesus! Jesus, the muscles on his arms! They’re like snakes!—and he held it up to the room numbers on the door. “See?” Jeremy looked over. Indeed, both the door and the freshman’s room assignment showed the identical number. 318. “But the semester….” “Yep, very true, roomie. But here I am anyway.” He re-folded the paper and stuffed it back into his back pocket. “So, uh, can I come in? Or do you have someone in there already?” “Me? What?” “I can come back if you’re busy with something… or someone.” He winked and smiled. It made him look even more gorgeous. “No, I… No, come in.” As he passed, Jeremy smelled him. It was a rank and raw and delicious smell. Body odor, surely. No fragrance smelled like that. Only dudes smelled like that. But it didn’t smell bad. On the contrary, the guy smelled really, really good. Like… like the way a dude is supposed to smell, or something like that. Purely natural. Purely masculine. “I’m…” The dude turned. He was still smiling. “Yeah?” he asked. “I’m using that bed,” Jeremy said, indicating the one on the right. Both were made up, so it was hard to tell whether anyone was using either of them. “Cool,” the guy said, dropping his backback on the other bed and offering his hand in a liquid, natural fashion. “I’m Charles.” “Jeremy,” said Jeremy. He took his new roommate’s hand in his. Charles’s handshake was warm, firm, strong, commanding, powerful, masculine, sexy. It was everything his roommate was, held in his palm. “Jeremy,” Charles repeated. He said it as if memorizing it. He said it with that fucking beautiful smile on his fucking beautiful lips, and his words reached down into Jeremy’s pants and stroked his prick. “That’s a nice name,” he said, and Jeremy felt that he meant it. He swallowed drily. He was suddenly in a shitload of trouble. “I was….” he started, but the words caught in his throat when Charles lifted up the front of his shirt and rubbed his belly. The dark curls that appeared above his waist band moved up toward his navel. He owned a cobblestone 6-pack, and the skin moved across his muscles like water over rocks in a river. “Is there anything to eat?” he asked, absently. “I’m kinda hungry.” “There’s a couple of snack machines in the foyer,” Jeremy explained, “and I have some Fritos.” He indicated the small open bag lying next to his text book. “Oh, dude, I can get something for myself.” Charles turned toward the door. The bubble of his high, perfect ass stuck out at least a foot. Each globe was perfectly formed, with lickable dimples and a deep crevasse between. “Can I get you something?” Jeremy, his face flushing red, looked up quickly. “I’m okay!” he said, a bit too strongly. Charles didn’t seem to notice Jeremy looking at his ass, or if he did, he didn’t seem to mind. “Cool,” he said. “Be right back.” He left the room and Jeremy sat on his bed, remembering to breathe at last. “Shit,” he said softly. “Shit, fuck, damn, hell, shit.” He felt like the room was spinning. He felt dizzy and out of breath. His cock was pulsing with every beat of his heart, shoving inside his pants for room to grow. “Shit,” he said again. This was very, very, very bad. Charles stood at the end of the hallway. His cock was hard. He was stroking it through his jeans. It tingled and throbbed and felt like it weighed a good forty pounds. “Well, fuck,” he said to himself. “This is going to be harder than I thought.” Part 6 December Tim didn’t leave campus very often, but now that the college was on Christmas break, and almost entirely deserted, it was easy to grow bored and lonely. The place was a collection of empty buildings and silent courtyards, with only a few students and instructors left on campus. The sky had been threatening snow for days, now, and the gray stillness made him feel sad. Tim wanted to go home, too, but he was afraid that if he did—if he went back to be with his friends in Muscle Club and the endless sex and wanton physical release afforded by being surrounded by all the other men who were just like him, he wouldn’t want to come back here. And maybe he shouldn’t. After all, what was there here to keep him? Even his roommate was mad at him, now, for simply refusing to do to him what had been done to Tim. There they both were, in their room, with the other guy, Mike, sitting naked on Tim’s bed, holding his newly-augmented dick in his hands. Mike had been physically changed and Tim hadn’t even touched him, hadn’t intended to do anything, just give a couple of guys a little bit of pleasure and allow himself to get off, finally releasing a bit of the overwhelming pent-up sexual energy his body was pumping through him like blood. And then Barry got it into his system to challenge Tim, make him work a little harder, make him reach deeper into that well of unending male sexuality that radiated from him like electricity and push him harder than he’d ever pushed anyone. And then something happened. Something unintended and impossible. Something he couldn’t take back. And Mike owned a monster cock, swollen several inches longer and thicker, rising from between his legs like a cobra, spitting cream from its eye. And Barry was…. Bigger. A lot bigger. Everywhere. And then they were both overcome by the moment. And Barry sank to his knees before Tim’s two pricks, a hand on each, stroking him reverently like a worshiper before his god, and asking for Tim to complete the circuit, bringing Barry into the membership rolls of Muscle Club, granting him everything that Tim had to give—including the burden of what he was going through every minute of his college life. He paused, and he shook his head, and he denied his friend what he wanted. And then there were words, and accusations, and a fight. And Barry stormed out, half-naked and bulging with new muscular brawn, and refusing to speak to Tim like some petulant child denied a toy. Tim pulled in a long, slow breath and sighed it back out through his parted lips. He rubbed his eyes and felt suddenly tired and old. Fuck, why was everything so fucking hard? Then he laughed at himself. “Poor you,” he said, looking down at his massive muscular body. “Cursed with all this muscle and beauty. Poor you.” The nearby town—not nearly large enough to be called a city—wasn’t much to speak of. One main thoroughfare downtown, a 4-lane road lined with stores, many of them closed and deserted as a result of the town’s economic downturn and the loss of so many industrial jobs, and some tree-lined avenues with large houses owned by families that have lived here forever. Following the highway to the west side, one would find apartments, strip malls and movieplexes. South of town was literally the other side of the tracks, where low income families lived in run-down houses with overgrown yards and too many dogs. Heading east and up the foothills, the college’s columned buildings and concrete dormitories sat astride a series of low cliffs overlooking the dirty, meandering river that used to support barges and boats traveling toward the port cities. The college survived because of its athletics and business school. It was a large campus and relatively wealthy due to its longevity and generosity of a few of its more successful graduates. Tim was wandering the empty downtown streets. The sky was grey and still threatened snow. The air was brisk but, as usual, Tim’s body was providing an unusual warmth that precluded the need for a coat, or even a light jacket. Oddly, his body seemed to regulate itself, generating warmth when it was cold, but remaining cool when the summer sun was blazing, as if it had been designed to do so. Then again, hadn’t he spent most of the past summer completely naked? He was wearing his usual outfit; a pair of tight jeans, a body-hugging Polo shirt and a pair of rubber flip-flops on his size fourteen-and-a-half feet. If any of the few people he encountered thought it odd that someone should be wandering around in December wearing only jeans, a short-sleeved shirt and sandals, no one said a thing. He’d found the comic book store next to a record store, wondering how they stayed in business given the digital access of everything print and audio. The stores were both empty, save for the lone employee in each, both shaggy-haired young men smelling of weed. The clerk in the comics place remarked on Tim’s resemblance to the blonde-headed Thor, only with less hair. “Dude,” he said, “all you need is a fucking Mjölnir and a golden helmet and you’d be set!” Tim only thanked him and said that was a bit of an overstatement. (It wasn’t.) The guy in the record store openly ogled him as he browsed the bins, sending a thrill of sexual excitement through his huge body. Tim could almost feel the man’s eyes as they caressed his muscles and ass. He considered trying his luck on the dude to see if his interest was more than curiosity, but his fear of doing something he didn’t intend to—again—held him back. They shared eye contact a couple times, and the guy even smiled at him. But Tim thought about Barry and left without buying anything, even when the clerk issued an enthusiastic, “Come back soon!” He thought about Barry as he walked slowly down the frigid sidewalk, seeing his own reflection in the empty storefront windows. At one point he stopped and turned to look at himself, trying to see his old self somewhere inside the huge, muscular, handsome man staring back at him. “Jesus,” he said softly, “who the fuck are you?” He lifted his right arm, bending it at the elbow and swelling the muscles lining the limb to bulging glory. They mounded up and made the tanned, copper skin grow thin and shiny, pushing his sleeve toward his shoulder to make room for the biceps and triceps swelling outward with such authority. “You’re Tim,” an equally masculine voice answered. Then another figure stood beside him in the window, slightly shorter, less muscular, but otherwise every bit as handsome and powerfully built. “I thought you were going home for Christmas,” Tim said, lowering his arm. The brawny figure beside him shrugged a pair of thickly powerful shoulders. “I think I need a few more weeks before I show up at home looking like this,” Barry answered. “I told the family a friend needed me to stick around and help him through some stuff.” Tim raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly. “Only a few more weeks? You put on something like forty pounds of muscle.” “Not to mention four inches in height.” “In a few weeks?” Barry huffed through his nostrils like a bull, releasing steam into the air. “Okay, maybe a few months.” Tim turned towards his roommate. “You still pissed at me?” “Yes,” he answered, not turning. Then, “No. I mean, I am, but I’m not.” “Well, thanks for clearing that up.” “I think I understand why you did it...or, I mean, why you didn’t do it.” “What changed your mind?” He shrugged again. There was a snapping sound as the threads on his shirt released, no longer able to withstand the size of his shoulders. He wore an oxford button-down, sky blue, with the shirt open nearly to his navel, revealing his now massive pectoral globes and the dusting of dark curls that were growing across his muscled chest. His prominent nipples pushed against the tight cotton material, and the first four bulges of his deeply defined abdominal wall were easily defined. “Dude in the record store was practically drooling on me. Creeped me out. So I guess I’m not as ready as I thought I was to, you know.” “Go all the way?” “In a manner of speaking.” He seemed to suddenly remember that the man standing next to him was gay, and he said, “Sorry.” “Nothing to be sorry about, I don’t particularly want to be straight, either.” He made a face. “Vaginas are weird.” Tim looked back at their reflection. “How are you holding up?” “I don’t know how you fucking do it, man. I’m so fucking horny I could fuck a donut.” Tim laughed softly. “When did you get used to this?” “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that I get so horny that I can make other men grow bigger cocks and muscles. So, uh, I’ll let you know when I get used to it.” Barry joined him in looking at the two of them. They were encased in skin-tight clothing. They had the muscular frames of professional bodybuilders. Tim was six-and-a-half feet tall, and Barry was now six-two. Tim’s incredibly handsome face would make any of the women he’d been with cream their jeans, and Barry thought his new, more masculine face could make her pretty fucking wet. He reached his thickly muscled arm across the width of Tim’s mountainous shoulders. “Weird.” “Which part,” Tim asked. “Being big, I mean. It’s weird.” Tim nodded an agreement. “I keep forgetting how much more of me there is to fit through doors and under things. I’ve bumped my head a few times. It’s kind of liking driving a new car, and you don’t know where the fenders are when you’re parallel parking. So you keep scraping things. Only when I scrape things, rub up against someone, I get this sexual thrill that drives straight to my groin. So….” “Yeah,” Tim said, remembering his own sudden growth. “Weird.” He looked over again, allowing his eyes to gaze on Barry’s almost-there wardrobe. “I like the look you’re going for. Kind of porn-star stripper weightlifter.” Barry’s handsome mouth twisted sideways. “Yeah, well, what am I supposed to do?” He plucked at his collar. “These clothes were all new when I got here in September. The parents outfitted me and spent a fortune making sure I’d look nice. All collegiate and shit. Can’t afford to buy a whole new set of clothes myself, and I can’t phone ‘em up and say, gee, I’m about twice the size I used to be when I left home. Can you send me a few hundred so I can replace everything you just bought?” He shrugged, and a few more threads snapped. “Besides, I don’t feel cold.” “You don’t?” “Well, yeah, a little, but since I can’t pull my coat over these arms, anyway, I figure….” He let the thought drop as he examined his thick and powerful limbs, lined with bulging masses of raw power. He twisted his arms and watched the muscle move, giving Tim a thrill of unintended sexual excitement. “Why aren’t you heading home?” “I….I just decided not to.” “You don’t want to see all your friends? Get your swerve on?” “I’m all about feeling sorry for myself, these days,” he explained. Then he smiled. “It’s kind of hard to explain.” “Is it because of me? Of what happened?” Tim opened his mouth, but Barry interrupted him. “Look, man, I’m okay. Really. I mean, I was pissed there for a while, but I think I understand better now. Especially having lived in this body for a little while. I mean, there are certainly advantages. Big, huge, amazing, fucking sexy advantages.” “Yeah, I kind of noticed.” Barry had been fucking every girl he had his eye on, and some of whom had never given him a moment’s notice before. “Yeah, not just that. I mean, yeah, that. The fucking is amazing! I’ve never had so much pussy so often in my life! And it’s just non-stop!” The overburdened crotch of his tight pants started to display his excitement. Just talking about it, his cock started to stretch and plump with visible results. “Fuck, I’m horny,” he explained, reaching down to adjust his ample package. “Well, there’s always the record store dude.” “Ha ha, very funny.” “You ever ass fuck anyone?” “Of course!” “Of course?” “Well, once. A girl! I mean, she was a girl, not a guy.” “Yes, I get that part.” “But not since… I mean, would it even fit?” Tim shrugged. “You’d be surprised at what you can do,” he said. Then his forehead wrinkled. “Although, come to think of it, I’ve only been with other… I’ve never done it with someone who wasn’t…” “Extra large like you.” “Uh, yeah.” He pursed his lips. “And, you told me one time that you take it up the….” “Careful, roomie,” Tim suggested, “unless you’re really prepared to make good on any ideas that are suddenly brewing in that dirty mind of yours.” “What, fuck you? I’d be afraid you’d clamp down and snap the damned thing off!” He laughed. “No worries there, bro. I don’t want to fuck you.” “Too bad,” Tim said, lightly. “I’m told I’m an excellent fuck.” Barry looked over and up at Tim’s face. “Really, dude? You just went there?” “Are you picturing my ass now?” His full lips quirked into a smile. Barry rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I’m not. I appreciate that you’re an ok-looking guy, Tim, don’t get me wrong, but when I get hard I’m not picturing your hard muscles and massive cock. I’m picturing Cindy’s tits, or Carrie’s lips, or Lisa’s amazingly tight pussy.” He swallowed hard and pushed at his growing erection with the heel of his hand. “God damn, I’m horny,” he said quietly. “Yeah, sorry about that,” Tim repeated, for the millionth time. “So, why aren’t you with Cindy or Carrie or Lisa’s amazing pussy right now?” “Gone home,” he reported. “So have Wendy and Monica and Betty and Lavonda and Jennifer One and Jennifer Two and….” “I get the picture,” Tim said. “I trust you’re being careful. Dipping your oar into so many different lakes can result in some nasty bugs, you know.” “I wasn’t born yesterday, genius. I’m buying Magnums by the fucking truckload. I’m practically keeping Trojan in business by this point.” He adjusted himself again. “Damn,” he moaned. “This thing is fucking hungry.” “There’s always the record store dude.” “Any mouth in a storm, you mean?” “If you think he can handle you,” Tim added, casting his gaze down at the impressive outline of his roommate’s burgeoning hard-on. “Is that thing bigger?” Barry looked down. “Don’t think so.” Then he looked up. “Why, is it supposed to keep growing?” Tim shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I did. So I don’t know what’ll happen.” He met Barry’s gaze. “Would it matter?” “If I got bigger? Fuck, I’m bottoming out as it is. I might start poking holes out the backside if it grows any longer.” “Maybe it’s just those jeans,” Tim said. Barry outlined his eight-incher with his hands, framing the swollen shaft and bloated head of his cock. “Yeah, not bad, huh?” “I’d blow you,” Tim said, only half-joking. “Well, somebody is going to have to. If I don’t care of this guy soon, he’s gonna blow all by himself.” He looked toward the record store. “You really think that guy’d suck me off?” “No harm in asking,” Tim answered. “And if he won’t, I’ll be back in the room in an hour.” He winked. “Don’t even joke,” Barry responded. “I’m about to fucking pop.” “Who’s joking?” Tim answered. Then he laughed. “Have fun, Barry,” he said. Barry nodded and slapped Tim’s rock-hard ass. “I’ll let you know how it goes.” Then he clapped his hands together and looked down at his dick. “Okay, big fella, let’s go make a new friend!” Tim watched his roommate saunter back towards the record store. His hips moved like they were oiled, and the two muscled mounds of his denim-encased ass shifted in a most agreeable—and slightly disturbing—fashion. Barry’s lats were stretching the material of his shirt to the tearing point, and his shoulders were a mile across. Now it was Tim’s turn to adjust his equipment. He wasn’t supposed to be looking at his roommate like that. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about what it would feel like to have Barry’s enhanced dick shoving deep into his hole, prodding his prostate and making his eyes roll up inside their sockets. He wasn’t supposed to be imagining what Barry’s balls smelled like, or tasted like, or felt like as he sucked them into his mouth. He wasn’t supposed to be licking his lips as he thought about Barry’s lips pressed against his, and Barry’s tongue pushing into his mouth, and Barry’s arms wrapped around his body. He lowered his gaze and closed his eyes, trying to chase those fantasies away. But there he was again, Barry, kneeling before him, the lobes of his muscular shoulders flexing and straining, the two heavy globes of his chest arching forward, his fat cock throbbing and drooling pre, his square-jawed visage staring up at him, asking to be bathed in his warm, creamy spunk. “Fuck,” he said softly. • • • • Jeremy had become very familiar with the library. He was intimately familiar with the particular corner where he was sitting, because it was well hidden from view. No one was likely to come back here to find him, or really for any reason at all. He had his laptop open and a book beside it as he typed up a term paper that wasn’t due for weeks. Everyone else was gone home for the holidays. And why not? That was what holidays were for. In fact, there was very little reason for him to be sitting in his accustomed chair at his accustomed table in his accustomed corner because there was almost no one around to be looking for him anyway and no one he should need to hide from. Except, of course, for the very two students that he had the most reason to be hiding from. There was Charles, of course. Charles the mighty. Charles the handsome. Charles the supremely weird. The guy didn’t even own a cell phone! Or a computer! And he only seemed to own, like, four shirts and one pair of pants and some flip-flops. Like, who wears flip-flops in the middle of December? And not a single pair of underwear? That had to be uncomfortable, especially considering how much… equipment… he had to contend with. And, naturally, the guy had to sleep in the nude. And, naturally, he had to sleep over the covers! In the winter! Who does that? It was hard enough getting to sleep with him lying there only a few feet away. With that smell he gave off, like, all the time! And he showered and everything, it wasn’t like the guy was a pig or something! So, why did he always smell like that? So… male. And… sexy. No! Not sexy! He smelled…. he smelled… dirty. Yeah, he smelled dirty. He smelled like… like…. Oh, fuck. Just thinking about his smell, just imagining it over in the other bed, making his sheets smell like that, leaving the intense scent of his body on that side of the room, made Jeremy’s dick start to swell. Fuck! Stop it! Stop doing that! Stupid dick! He pulled in a slow, calming breath. Don’t think about Charles. Don’t think about him lying naked in the room. Don’t think about his body, and his furry chest, and those huge dark nipples situated at the lower edge of each amazing, swollen pectoral plate. Don’t think about his skin, all bronzed, every inch of it, looking as smooth as silk. Don’t think about his back, and the strong wedges of brawn bulging from it. Or his impossibly narrow waist, and that fucking stupid six-pack of perfect abs. And don’t, don’t, don’t, do not whatever you do think about his ass. His perfect ass. The two perfect globes of perfectly muscular butt meat, like smooth round bowls attached to his backside. And the deep shadowed crevasse between. And his smell. The smell of him. Fuck! Stop it! “Stop it!” “Stop what?” Jeremy looked up. “Fuck!” he said. “Sorry,” the huge, beautiful young man apologized. “How do you do that?” “Do what?” he asked innocently. “Just, like, appear like that? Like, out of nowhere?” Charles tilted his head, shrugged his enormous shoulders and smiled that fucking beautiful sideways smile of his. That infuriatingly perfect smile of perfect handsomeness. “What are you doing here?” he said, avoiding the question. “What?” He pulled out a chair and spun it around, sitting splay-legged in it facing Jeremy. All Jeremy could think about at that moment was how Charles’s huge prick was pushing against the crotch of his jeans, making that huge bulging basket that spilled forward with such pornographic obviousness. “Why aren’t you doing this back in the room? There’s no one else in the dorms, anyway, and there’s a perfectly good desk there.” “I was….” Jeremy groped for a good excuse. As if reading his mind, Charles’s strong brow furrowed. “Why are you avoiding me?” “What?” A cold chill shot through Jeremy’s whole body. Charles asked again, “Why are you avoiding me?” His voice was deep, resonant and sexy. “I’m not avoiding you,” he answered. Charles smiled and clicked his tongue. “Now, see, you say that but even you don’t believe it.” He scooted the chair even closer. His arms are hung across the back of the chair. Jeremy could easily discern every individual muscle beneath his copper skin. “So?” “So?” “Did I do something?” “You didn’t do anything….” “Did I say something?” “It’s not….” “I used to think that you were just shy,” he said. “But it’s been a couple of weeks and now you’re actively avoiding me.” He sat up. It made his magnificent chest rear into view. Those two fat nipples were pressing against the thin material. Didn’t he own a jacket, either? “Just tell me what it is, and I’ll stop doing it.” “It isn’t anything,” Jeremy protested. “Do you act this way with everyone?” Everyone like you. Everyone I like like I like you, I do. “Seriously, Charles, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Charles held up his fist and started counting off the offenses on his raised fingers. “You’re never around when I wake up. You don’t say anything to me when we accidentally cross paths, which isn’t so accidental since you’re avoiding me. Even when you do talk to me, you studiously avoid eye contact.” He refolded his arms across the chair back and rested his strong chin on his meaty muscle. “Does that sound like something someone who likes you would do?” “I just…. I’m…. I….” Charles just sat there, allowing Jeremy to dig his own grave. “I’m… I am shy.” “You’re sure that’s all there is?” Charles asked doubtfully. He nodded. “Shy,” he repeated. “I… I’m this way with everyone.” He swallowed drily. The handsome face before him was making his dick hard. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t have a lot of friends.” “I noticed,” he answered. “Don’t you want to have friends?” “I’m just…” “Can we be friends, Jeremy?” He sat up scooted even closer. The thick globes of his chest were enormous and beautiful. The darkness of his nipples pressed against the thin material of his shirt. “I’m a nice guy. Honest.” “You… you make me nervous.” “Me?” He seemed genuinely confused. “I may look kinda big and brutal, but I’m just a sweetheart. All soft and gooey inside, even if my outside looks hard.” “Like candy.” “Beg pardon?” “Hard candy shell, rich chewy nougat inside.” “Yeah. Yeah! I’m like candy. And who doesn’t like candy?” He stood up suddenly, towering over Jeremy. The action made a cloud of his intense and spicily masculine scent swirl around Jeremy like pollen. His nostrils stung from the strong, delicious tang of Charles’s familiar smell. It was like he was giving it off on purpose, designed to entrance Jeremy like a poisonous flower. “Friends?” Charles asked, offering his hand. “I… I never said we weren’t friends.” Jeremy was looking up, into the beautiful youth’s green eyes. He felt like swooning, like he could faint dead away, looking into those eyes. The young man’s broad, strong hand was held out toward him. The nails looked like glass. Even his nails were perfect. “We don’t need to shake on it,” he said quietly. Charles wrinkled his brow again. “No?” He looked at his hand. Then he lowered it and shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “Okay,” he said, apparently satisfied. “So does this mean you’ll look at me when we talk?” Jeremy shrugged. “And you won’t run away or disappear when I get to our room?” Another, slighter shrug. “You don’t seem very convincing, Jeremy.” Charles’s voice, saying his name, brought tingles to his spine and made his cock throb. “Sorry,” he said. Charles sat back down. “Are you okay? Are you sure that something else about me isn’t bothering you?” Besides you being so close, you mean? And the smell of you making my dick hard? And that just looking at you makes me want to kiss you? “College is...a lot more challenging than I imagined.” “No shit,” Charles agreed. “I forgot how much fucking work it is.” “You forgot?” Charles’s face looked slightly panicked for a second. “Compared to high school,” he said. “You know, you take a summer off and you think your senior year was such a drag and….” “A ‘drag’?” Jeremy’s eyebrow arched. “Were you home-schooled by any chance?” “Why do you ask that?” “Sometimes you sound just like my father.” He narrowed his eyes. “And home-schooled kids are...weird.” Charles laughed slightly. “I don’t doubt that.” He scrubbed his hand through his wealth of shiny black locks, pushing them from his green gaze. His biceps swelled enormously, squeezed by the action. There was a thick vein that wound over the top of the muscle, and as the skin stretched, it revealed every cable, fiber and bulge of the awesome brawn beneath. “No, I just went to regular high school. I guess I watch too many old movies or something,” he explained. Then he shrugged. His shoulders were like animals wrestling under his shirt. Charles peered at Jeremy’s computer. “What are you working on?” The smaller boy turned. “Computer science,” he said. “I’m studying to be an engineer. Make something cool, you know, then sell it to Google and retire to someplace far away.” “Far away from what?” “Just...stuff.” “Need any help?” “From you?” he asked, incredulously. What the hell would an over-pumped juicer who spends every waking hour at the gym looking at himself in the mirror know about comp sci? “I’m smarter than I look,” Charles volunteered. “You stuck on something?” Oh, what the hell? “I’m working some C++ and this won’t compile. I can’t find the bug.” “Mind if I take a look?” He rounded the table and sat down next to Jeremy. He was giving off a palpable heat! No wonder he wasn’t wearing a jacket, the dude must’ve just come from a big workout session and his whole, giant body was throbbing with power. And there was his scent again, stronger than ever. It was all coming off him in waves. Jeremy’s heart was beating fast. His dick was throbbing hard and growing uncomfortably thick. He had no spit in his mouth. “It’s… it’s this,” he said, indicating the problem code. Charles looked at it and scrolled up and down very quickly. “Can I…?” he asked, floating his meaty hands over the keyboard. “Be my guest,” Jeremy answered, growing almost as curious as he was turned on. Charles executed a flurry of typing, his hands moving very quickly as he cut and pasted, replaced some phrases outright, removed others and hit the compile icon. “I think that should help,” he said, his voice rumbling deeply beside Jeremy’s small frame. They both watched the progress bar and then everything came up green. “You… you fixed it.” Charles smiled over at him. “Told you I was smarter than I looked.” He winked and tapped his forehead. “It’s almost like I have a whole university full of really intelligent men up here.” “Wow,” Jeremy said, admittedly impressed. “That was…. thanks!” “You’re welcome,” Charles said, simply. “If there’s ever anything else I can help you out with, just ask me. Anything at all, Jeremy. I’m remarkably agreeable to almost any suggestions. And I think you’ll find my talents can extend….to quite an amazing length.” “Uh…. okay.” “I’m also incredibly subtle.” “Uh… yeah.” “Just wanted to throw that in there.” “Thanks.” “No problem.” He stood up. “You… coming back to the dorm, then?” “In a little while. I’m going to finish some stuff here where it’s quiet.” Charles nodded and gazed around the empty library space. “It is that,” he agreed. “You hungry?” “Hungry?” He smiled that fucking sideways smile again, the one that made something inside Jeremy melt like butter over a hot flame. “Yeah, hungry.” “I… guess so.” “Wanna grab something to eat? With me?” “Eat something?” Charles’s handsome face tilted and his green eyes narrowed. “Yeah, Jeremy, eat something. Put something in your mouth.” “My mouth?” Charles reached forward, placing his finger on Jeremy’s upper lip and encircling his mouth. “In here,” he offered. His touch was warm, too. And unexpectedly soft. Jeremy shrank back. “What are you do…?” “C’mon Jeremy, let’s go get some food.” Charles acted as though he had done nothing odd at all. He placed his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and squeezed gently, reaching with his other hand toward the laptop and slowly closing the lid. “It’ll do you good.” Left with little choice, and feeling decidedly weird, Jeremy stood up and started putting his computer in his backpack. “What do you feel like?” “I want whatever you want,” Charles said, “I’m easy.” Muscle bulged from every inch of his body. His face was achingly handsome. His groin was over-burdened by the sheer volume of his sexual equipment. His clothes fit him like a glove, hugging every perfect mound of brawn piled so deeply on his tall frame. He was smiling his sideways smile, dimples in one cheek, the other smooth and dusted with whiskers. His green eyes sparkled like gems, and his jet back hair was shining like spun glass. “Do you…?” He didn’t finish the question. Charles raised an eyebrow. “Do I…?” “Never mind.” Charles’s smile increased in wattage, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Whatever you wanted to know, chances are I do.” He lowered his chin slightly. “Do you?” “Do I what?” Charles shrugged, “Whatever it was you wanted to know if I did.” “I’m… not sure.” “That’s fair. But can I offer some advice?” Jeremy slung the pack over his slim shoulder and nodded, looking at his beautiful, taller, broader, very imposing roommate. Charles’s voice was smooth and deep, seductive in its grace and power. “Whatever it is, give it a try. I find it’s not very smart to judge things—or people—without giving them a chance. You may be surprised at what you’ll enjoy doing.” “Maybe,” Jeremy admitted. “But what if….” “What if what?” “What if other people….” “Fuck them.” “Huh?” “Fuck them. Fuck those people.” “But what if…?” Charles shook his head. “Fuck them. Those people aren’t worth your time or consideration. You can’t worry what the other people think. You need to do what makes you happy—what makes you feel good. What makes you feel good about yourself.” “But….” “Do you want to hurt someone?” Jeremy looked shocked. “No!” “Do you want to make someone feel bad? Or make them hate themselves?” “No.” Charles shrugged. “Then fuck those other people. Do what you want to do. Feel good. Have fun.” “It’s not that simple,” Jeremy protested. “It is exactly that simple,” Charles said, softly. Jeremy sighed. “You don’t know,” he said. “Then tell me,” Charles answered, “so I do know.” “I can’t.” Charles smiled. “Okay. That’s okay. But when you want to tell someone, I hope you tell me. I like you, Jeremy. And I want you to know that. I really like you.” Jeremy didn’t meet Charles’s emerald gaze, keeping his eyes down. “You want me to shut up?” Yes, Jeremy thought. I want you to shut up, so the sound of your voice doesn’t make me think about kissing you, and your body against mine, and you naked, and me naked, and both of us together. But he just nodded slightly, and blushed. “Let’s go,” he said, finally. “Yes,” Charles said, “let’s.” Part 7 Christmas “Seriously, dude?” “What?” Tim was standing in the open doorway to his dorm room. His roommate, Barry, was laying sprawled on his own bed, completely naked, with his hard cock in his hand. His broad, thickly muscle chest and deeply defined six-pack abs were sheened with sweat, making his smooth, pale skin look almost metallic. Pearls of thick cream hung in the dark forest of curls that coated his pecs, and more long strings of it were splattered over his cobblestone belly. The eye of his monstrous erection was slowly drooling a fat runnel of cum over his grip, and it trailed down the several thick inches of his veiny shaft, finally coating his overburdened ball sack with his warm seed. Barry’s neck, chin and lips were shiny with cum. He’d shot far and heavy, as usual. It wasn’t that Tim was shocked by the sight, or even the fact that this was probably Barry’s third ‘release’ that day, after a wake-up wank and another just before he left the room to find some lunch. It wasn’t that Tim was naked and the room was probably around fifty-five degrees, though there was a palpable and strong current of heat coming from the direction of his bed. It wasn’t even that he was still hard, and evidently still stroking his load from his balls, even after exploding a fountain of cream that was copious enough for two men. No, it was that he had done all this with the door to their room wide open, moaning and groaning with obvious pleasure, loud enough for Tim to hear his satisfied grunting and low, guttural declarations of “fuck yeah” and “fuck, so fucking good” all the way from the front door to the Men’s Dormitory, three floors down and several hundred feet away. Tim just shook his blonde, handsome head and tried to look disapproving. “At least shut the door,” he said. “Oh, fuck, dude,” Barry said, sitting up and taking his grip from his impressive hard-on, “there’s no one fucking here anyway. And what the fuck do I care who wanders by, or wanders in? Hell, they can take a seat and join me for all I care.” He looked down at his throbbing wonder and ran the tip of his index finger around and across its drooling mouth. “Shit that felt good.” He looked up, but did not stop giving attention to his cock’s swollen head. “Feel free to take a load off, Timebomb. I bet you’re hornier than I am—and I’m pretty fucking horned up.” He grinned. “I could go again, for sure.” That was worrisome. Barry’s sexual fireworks were becoming overwhelming. He probably could stroke out another fat load, by the looks of his erection. It remained upright and shiny, swollen thick enough to stretch the skin to red glass. “Maybe later,” he said. Then he lifted his arm and tossed a Walgreens bag towards Barry’s large feet. “Merry Christmas,” he said. • • • • Barry’s eyes lit up and a smile came to his lips. He licked them, trying to suck the clinging cream from them, and moved forward to grab the bag. His cock wavered and swung with heaviness, casting droplets of its creamy river onto his muscled thighs, though it lost none of its hardness as he sat back against the wall to look inside the plastic bag. “T-shirts?” “I though you could use something to wear besides the usual.” Tim moved into the room—not closing the door—and sat on his bed, making it sag under his bulk. “I’m kind of tired of seeing you walking around campus like you just stepped out of an Undergear catalog.” “A what now?” Tim rolled his eyes. “Never mind.” He watched Barry tear the plastic from the shirts. “I think they’ll fit. If they don’t, we don’t have a lot of options. Extra large is as large as they go.” Barry shrugged his shoulders. “Used to wear mediums, and I can’t think I’ve gotten that much bigger.” “Uh, have you looked in the mirror lately?” Barry smirked. “Only when I can fit myself into the bathroom and stoop down to see.” He started to hold one of the shirts to his torso, then saw the wealth of his creamy load spread everywhere. “Probably should clean up first. Wouldn’t want to get cum stains all over my new Christmas outfit!” “Maybe you’d better,” Tim agreed. Barry set the bag and its contents aside and stood up. His cock remained at attention, pointing toward the ceiling and standing a good seven or eight inches long. His balls, heavy and fat, drooped in their sack as he grabbed onto his mammoth hard-on and stroked it once, from base to tip, and then brought his hand to his mouth and licked his palm. He looked at Tim’s wondering visage and said, “Couldn’t hurt, right? I mean, if I swallowed your cum I’d get even bigger—maybe mine works the same way.” “You want to get bigger?” Tim asked. “I thought you were having second thoughts.” “There’s bigger,” he said, lifting his arm and swelling the muscle into flexed glory. “And then there’s bigger,” and he grabbed his huge erection and wagged it at Tim. “You mean bigger down there?” “Of course! Gotta keep up with you, don’t I?” He continued stroking himself as he wandered naked from the room toward the showers at the end of the hallway, the slick, wet sounds of his hand as it pleasured his cock accompanying the loud thud of his barefooted tread along the wood. “Aw, fuck,” he said, loudly—and probably for Tim’s benefit. He had to smile. At least his roommate—his friend—wasn’t mad anymore. And wasn’t every guy a horndog, really? Maybe it wasn’t entirely normal to be stroking one off so often, but maybe that was just a phase. A kind of side effect from whatever had happened. Maybe it would fade as Barry became used to his new form. Maybe everything would turn out all right, and maybe no one would get hurt or come to regret anything at all. But that was a lot of maybes. • • • • The Men’s Dormitory showers were also a leftover from years gone by. No privacy was afforded anyone inside—since, logically, there was no reason for one naked man to be looking at another naked man—and once past the scratched and dented stainless steel sinks, there was just a large, tiled room with four shower heads pointing at the floor. No walls, no curtains, nothing but a single drain in the center of the floor. Since no one else was in the dorms at present, Barry decided it might be fun to turn on all the shower heads at the same time and give himself an all-over clean. The shower stall was small enough that the sprays would interfere with each other, at least neat the floor, and the idea of being surrounded by hot water splashing against his naked skin was very...enticing. He twisted the knobs under each of the four heads and waited for the water to heat, standing in the center of the showers. • • • • The room smelled like sex. The lingering scent of Barry’s business and his sweaty body hung in the air, and it made Tim’s skin tingle and his heavy cock throb. But he pulled in a calming breath and went to the window, opening it a crack to let the winter wind inside. It was frigid and a bit shocking, but his body quickly compensated. The breeze fluttered the sheets on Barry’s unmade bed and drew Tim’s attention to a wet spot where, he assumed, some of Barry’s abundant flood had undoubtedly come to rest. He eyed the open door and listened for a sign of anyone outside. Then he bent to one knee and moved his nose in toward the dark patch, wanting to bring a stronger sample of Barry’s unique scent and the smell of sex into his senses, while no one was looking. There was still some of Barry’s cum on the sheet, a small pearlescent puddle at the center of the dark stain. Tim extended his tongue and touched it to Barry’s seed. • • • • The water made Barry feel really good. Not that he wasn’t already feeling really good, of course. The orgasmic release was still running through his body like a strummed guitar string, but the water reinvigorated him, warmed him, and felt really good on his naked flesh. He closed his eyes and leaned into the flow. He adjusted the levels until the shower was steaming. With no one left in the dorms, at least there was plenty of hot water. His skin felt super sensitive. He could feel the droplets splashing against his shoulders and chest, and against his calves and ankles. He could feel the water running down his strong, wide back, gathering along his spine and draining over the mounds of his muscular butt. He tensed his muscles and stretched his body and felt the brawn bunch and bulge. It made his cock pulse and a thrill of sex ran through his body. He reached down toward the core of his pleasure and ran his hand along its length. His cock was limp, but thick and heavy, a six-inch snake with a mushroom head. A quicksilver tingle of bliss accompanied his easy stroke, and a soft groan left his lips. From somewhere, an idea—or a curiosity—sprang into his head. What was it about gay guys and butt sex? Like, really, what was that all about. This, this stroking, having your cock sucked—even sticking it inside an ass—now that he could understand. But what about from the other side? Did it really feel that great? Having something pushing inside your butt? With one hand propping him against the tiled wall, his other circled beneath his cock and cupped his balls. Jesus, they were big. He gently squeezed them, feeling each one’s size. He looked down, over his broad chest and rippled belly toward his cock and balls. He hefted the eggs up. The sack had grown slack in the warm water, and his balls moved inside, two hen’s eggs producing thick, warm cream that shot up his long prick. He sucked in a slow, shuddering breath and licked his lips. His hand moved under his hairy scrotum. With his middle finger, he gently stroked his taint, the smooth, soft flesh between his balls and his asshole. He rubbed it softly, tentatively, feeling his balls against the palm of his hand. A lingering sexual thrill surrounded his prick, sending sparks down its heavy shaft and making the head tingle. It was… interesting. He’d scratched many an itch there, for sure, but he’d never explored it like this. He moved the finger back, altering his stance, opening his ass, pushing his fingertip curiously against his hole, discovering its softness. He rubbed it, and then gently pushed against it, moving just the tip of his middle finger—his Fuck You finger—into his butt hole. Instinctively, he tensed against the intrusion. He looked down at where his hand disappeared under his balls. The muscles of his forearm twisted beneath his pale skin. A fat vein bulged along the muscle. He nudged and prodded, pushing inside as he learned to control that muscle, too. To relax against intrusion. To welcome the pressure inside. It was a bit difficult, standing up, to wedge his finger inside his butt. he checked the shower entrance and turned around, seating himself on the warm tile floor with the showers all splattering hot water on his naked flesh. Leaning his broad back against the wall, he lifted his right leg, bent at the knee, and slid his left wide, opening himself to further exploration. He circled his hole with his fingertip, again. He wanted to tense against the touch, but forced himself to relax. Then he pushed inside again, very gently, probing with his touch. He moved his finger into his asshole, to the first knuckle. It felt—similar to what Tim had tried to do with his sex juice. That feeling of something inside him. But this was real. This was him. He was curious, and excited, and scared, and thrilled. His cock began to bulge and throb. He withdrew his finger, rubbed the tip along his taint again, as if calming an animal unused to being touched. Then pushed back inside. It felt… good. • • • • A sudden flash of heat accompanied the taste of Barry’s cum. A tingling sensation that expanded into a flow of sexual potency. It was a sensation that Tim recognized instantly and that his body responded to with hunger and desire. It was Muscle Club, for sure—but that was no surprise, because what else could it be? He tasted his brothers in Barry’s cum, he tasted their beauty and their power and their overwhelming masculinity. Had he forgotten that taste, or had it simply been so long that he could not remember there was one? And Barry’s was Barry, his distillate and his purity and his power. Even so small a drop of his essential substance—the seed of his loins, the fundament of his strength, the concentrate of his masculine core—produced a recognition in Tim’s senses that was staggering. He licked his lips and looked down at the bed and used his index finger to wipe up whatever he could of Barry’s powerful juice. • • • • A small moan left Barry’s lips. He was slowly moving the single digit into and out of his asshole, sliding its slim hardness inside, feeling it intently. It was a new sensation, and not a bad one at all. Did this make him gay? Did this mean he was turning gay? Nah, this wasn’t gay. Gay guys—gay guys liked having sex with other guys. This was just Barry, exploring his body. Trying something new. Seeing what the fuck was up with all that talk about asses. He tried to picture Tim naked, just as an experiment. He saw him on his bed, all his muscle, his perfect muscular development, and that huge prick. He slowly fucked his own ass with his finger while picturing Tim in his head and he felt...stupid. Why the fuck was he doing this? But the finger in his butt didn’t feel bad. So maybe… He pictured Jane, instead. Jane had big, luscious tits. Jane had those red, red lips, and that long, dark hair. He pictured her slim waist, her little navel, where he put his tongue, her tight little butt, which he grabbed with gusto. He pictured his cock poised at her moist, warm, inviting pussy, her lying on her back before him in all her beautiful naked glory. He pictured his hand on his cock, guiding himself into her, kissing her mouth, sucking her breasts, biting the fat nubs of her dark, dark nipples. The feel of her skin, the smell of her neck, the sensation as she welcomed his hugeness inside her and made her squeal and giggle and writhe in complete ecstasy. Now this was more like it. His cock bulged and throbbed harder. He pushed the finger inside, moving it gently, feeling a new thrill, a different sexual sensation, and one that was not at all gay. Maybe there was, like, a button inside. Like a G-spot. Girls had that. He’d hit it before, or thought he did, and they’d moan and go apeshit when he did it. Maybe he had one, too. Maybe everyone did, and it was just a case of finding it. The water felt good. It splashed on his naked body. It ran over the muscled plates mounted on his wide, powerful chest. He tried to add a second finger. A sudden heat erupted, a deeply sexual burst from inside, and he gasped and felt his cock rise. God, he was getting close. He hadn’t even touched his prick and he could feel it growing harder, and throbbing insistently, and starting to tingle along every inch of its thickness. “Aw, fuck, yeah,” he whispered. Then he rubbed something. Something slightly hard, but also soft. He pushed against it and felt a familiar sensation. Kind of like he had to pee, but he didn’t have to pee. A sudden thrilling tingle erupted up his prick. He felt like he was pre-cumming, but it was hard to tell with the water everywhere. The room was hot and steamy. The water was loud. He adjusted his posture and pushed in further, groaning with pleasure and breathing in short, harsh breaths. So, so close. • • • • Tim brought the digit to his mouth and sucked it inside, pulling every bit of Barry’s sticky seed off his skin with his tongue and suction and swallowing it down like warm, sweet chocolate. There was a beast inside him, though. A beast who had not been fed in a very long time. A beast who was more familiar with what the taste on his tongue was, and what it meant, and how much it wanted that. And the beast was strong, and the beast was hungry. Too much. It was too much. Something snapped with sudden speed. Something inside that he didn’t know was there, some need or requirement, some undeniable power that had been aching for this sensation—the food of the gods, the pure essence of man. The time bomb went off. It exploded out of Tim just as before. A wave of sex and muscle and male power, hot and intense. Where it came from, he didn’t know, but it swelled like an invisible balloon and he could feel it leave as if a dam inside had burst its banks. • • • • Barry gasped. His cock was suddenly as hard as steel. He felt himself grow incredibly, intensely, inhumanly hard. His cock felt hot, and it swelled as if trying to burst from its skin. He closed his eyes and gasped for air, his fingers thrust up his ass, probing his prostate, filling him up like a hard cock, lost in a fog of sex and power and masculine perfection. Something had changed. Something was happening. Opening his eyes, he looked down and watched his cock growing, could actually see it lengthening and thickening, watch the shaft growing slowly fatter and the head crawling up his belly. His cock was growing! Veins wound up it like snakes crawling up a tree. The head bloomed, turning red and then purple and then he was cumming, shooting a fountain of pure white sex toward his chest and face and mouth. Then he realized something else. More muscle. Growing again. The two mountains of his chest swelled slowly outward as his cream settled onto his wet fur like pearls. His pecs shoved against each other at the center, deepening the cleavage between them. His tingling, throbbing nipples were being pushed down as the muscle swelled. His arms looked like rolling waves as the growth manifested, visibly increasing their thickness. He licked his lips, tasting a salty tang, and he dipped his fingers into the warm goo that his prick was pumping and sucked it off, tasting his own salty sweetness. His chest was massive. His arms were suffused with veins that throbbed and pumped blood into his new muscle, feeding his strength and size. His cock was bigger than ever. He pushed his finger deep inside his ass—the mounds of his buttocks were fuller against his fingers—and he forced another fat stream of hot cum from his balls, pushing it up every inch of cock and watching it emerge in a long, beautiful, viscous rope that splattered on his face and neck. He had not even touched his cock as it exploded, but now he grabbed onto the base with his free hand and aimed the spigot at his mouth, hoping to increase its presumed effects and make himself get bigger and bigger. Gouts of thick cream splattered on his chest and neck, and then he was cumming directly into his open mouth and swallowing eagerly. • • • • Tim came instantly. His cock literally tore through the rough denim of his jeans and swelled to magnificence, pushing fat streams of cum from his balls that splattered across the wall and Barry’s bed, unloosed and wild like a firehose. He threw back his head in orgasmic bliss and roared a sexual shout of intense pleasure and he exploded with hot, thick, sticky cream, shoved free from the massive inches of his huge prick. He came hard and he came full. Fat ropy streams of hot cream came from his cock and arched high and hit the wall hard. He was shoving it out of his balls as if someone were squeezing them like an udder, milking him for every drop of cum he had. He grabbed on and tried to point the mammoth appendage at his mouth, hoping to limit the damage. The cream splattered on his shirt and neck and lips and he opened his mouth and bent forward and pulled the fat bulb of his prick inside his warm, wet mouth, sucking and guzzling down the streams of cum. It warmed him and made him feel very alive and very horny. He started to fuck his own mouth, pistoning his hips and shooting creamy streams down his own throat. • • • • Barry felt giddy and sexy and powerful and fucking horny. His chest was swelling. His arms were swelling. Everything was swelling. His muscles had grown fully pumped, and pressed against his skin. He was shooting cum towards his mouth and trying to swallow it all, thinking it would increase and hasten his growth, feeling his body gaining pounds of rock-hard brawn as he came. • • • • Tim sucked hard, but it was hardly necessary. He was pumping cream without stopping, his massive hard-on releasing a torrent that fed him with its pure masculine power. • • • • It was over in moments, but it felt much longer. Tim was looking at the artwork he had just painted all over the walls and Barry’s bed, long, sticky strings of white cream. He could smell sex in the room, again, and he could still smell Barry. He could smell him even more keenly. “Fuck,” he said. He looked down at his ruined jeans and the massive shank of meat still drooling from its tip. He looked up at the wall next to Barry’s bed, which was now plastered with a thick coat of cum, sprayed in wide arcs like some Jackson Pollack painting. More was on his roommate’s sheets. He had to get this cleaned the fuck up! With his hard-on growing limp and the heat of embarrassment and shame coursing through his giant body, Tim ripped the sheets off Barry’s bed and used them to try to wipe his cream from the walls, mopping up his copious load with the thin cotton. • • • • Barry sat in the hot steam and the pounding shower of water breathing hard. He’d never come that hard in his life. He’d managed to blast several thick fountains of cream straight up and it was dripping down slowly, or sticking in fat gobs to the tile. He’d managed to come without ever even touching his cock, just by moving his finger into his ass. He decided that maybe there was something to getting butt fucked after all. He was definitely bigger. Holy fuck, he was bigger! He moved his hands onto his chest and measured the width of his pecs. He plucked at his bigger nipples with his bigger thumbs. He wasn’t sure how much bigger he was, but he was sure that he was definitely bigger. And his cock! It was bigger too! That was fantastic! He grabbed a bar of soap and started to wash down the wall, trying to clean up his mess. • • • • “Holy fuck,” Barry’s voice announced as he approached their room. “It worked!” Tim was on his own bed, naked, with his cock in his hand. He looked up, pretending that nothing at all weird was going on—just another wank session, like every other evening in the dorms. He was a magnificent specimen of man, with his haystack of dirty blonde hair on his noble head, scruffy golden whiskers sparkling on his chiseled jaw and surrounding his full, sensuous lip, a broad, incredible chest with two fat globes of power mounted on its width, arms overwhelmed with bulging muscle, legs stretching far and overstuffed with more muscle, yet, and a huge prick in his large grip, glossy and red and ready to pop. Barry stood in the doorway, dripping. Barry was bigger. Barry was noticeably bigger. Maybe not as dramatically bigger as before, but he was definitely bigger, particularly his chest and his cock. “Shit,” Tim said. Barry was shaking his head in disbelief, moving into the room, exploring his own bigger body with his hands. His skin was steaming in the cold air. Water drained off his beautiful skin, making him appear sleek and metallic. His cock was partially erect, arcing forward and drooping at least nine inches between his thighs. “Dude. Okay, this is gonna sound weird but… I fucking made myself grow! I fucking did it!” Then his brow creased and he asked, “Why’s my bed stripped?” “Oh, I… I just pulled off the sheet. They were kind of a mess with your cum, so I…” Barry nodded and said, “Yeah, dude, whatever. But fucking look at me!” He started to pose, to show off his growth, and his muscles, and his new size. He was an amateur at this kind of thing, trying to mimic the classic bodybuilder poses without the control and finesse of someone who knows how, but it was still an impressive display. He seemed to inflate as he did it, pumping blood into his new muscle and making it swell beneath his wet skin. His arms were like his chest, somewhat out of balance with the rest of him, as if he’d stuck a muscle pump into them and inflated them separately. They were amazing, with huge balls of swollen meat that sprang up as he flexed them. ‘Eighteen inches,’ thought Tim. ‘Barry has eighteen-inch arms.’ “Not to mention this fucking thing,” he said, proudly lifting his cock into his hand with something like reverence and wagging at his roommate. “This is a fucking choker! This is gonna make Jane fucking cream her fucking panties just looking at it! I mean, come on!” It was, indeed, an impressive tool that Barry was shoving into his roommate’s face. Even now, showered clean, Tim could smell Barry’s funky, masculine musk, as if his cock was a gun shooting his stink into the air. He could almost taste him again on his tongue, and his own cock throbbed and pulsed thickly with recognition in his grip. “Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard. “That’s pretty amazing.” “Oh, dude, sorry, you’re totally stroking…” He dropped his prick and it slapped against his bigger thigh muscles. It looked like he was also hairier, but it was difficult to be sure because he was wet. He turned and flopped down onto his mattress, propping himself against the wall and looking at Tim as if this were the most natural situation in the world. His face did not appear to have changed, at least to the extent of his first metamorphosis. Perhaps his chin was slightly stronger, or his eyes sparkled more purely, but he was so fucking handsome—and so fucking naked—that it was hard to judge any distinctions. He was absently rubbing his limp cock with the back of his hand. It lay along his leg, long and fat, pointing its mouth at Tim. “You okay?” “Huh?” “It’s not like you haven’t stroked one out with me here,” he said. Then he looked pointedly at Tim’s hand which was not at all stroking his hard-on. “I’m… sorry, I’m kind of… are you okay with this?” “This?” “Your… growing? Again?” Tim smiled and nodded vigorously. “Oh, hells yes! This is awesome! I feel fucking great, I have a huge fucking cock. What’s not to like?” “But… if it keeps happening?” “Oh, I know what did it, and I can, like, not do that.” His handsome face twisted up in self-doubt. “At least, I think I can not do that.” “You know?” “Yeah.” Tim just stared, waiting for an answer. When it was clear that none was forthcoming, he said, “And…?” “Oh, it’s my butt.” “Your butt.” “Yeah.” “What about your butt?” Tim was, unfortunately, picturing his roommate’s rather prodigious and muscular backside as he said it. Barry’s face colored and he shifted on his bed uncomfortably. “I was… experimenting with something in the shower. You know, out of curiosity. Just fucking around and I discovered… something.” Again, a long pause. “And…?” “And, there’s a thing in my butt that makes me grow.” Tim nearly laughed out loud, but he pursed his lips and held it in. “There’s a thing in your butt….” “That makes me grow,” he finished, saying it as if everyone had one. “How did you discover this thing?” He shrugged. “Experimenting. I told you.” “In the shower.” “Yeah.” “What sort of experimenting?” “Just...experimenting.” “With your butt.” Again, a sudden picture appeared in his mind: Barry’s amazing ass, tightly clad in denim, walking away from him, its two prominent and meaty globes shifting and bulging. Barry sighed dramatically. “Okay, I stuck my finger up my ass and there’s this, like, thing inside and when I touched it….” Then shrugged and went silent. “I see.” Barry finger-fucked himself. That was interesting. Or maybe it wasn’t. At this point on their relationship, it was hard to tell. “Yeah.” “So you have something like a magical muscle growth button inside your ass.” “I’m pretty sure,” Barry answered seriously. He tilted his handsome head slightly and eyed Tim’s still-throbbing tool. “You wanna stroke one off, together?” Tim looked down at his cock, too. It was definitely ready for something. Barry’s heady scent was everywhere, again. Maybe he was pumping it out freshly just having grown again. Maybe his scent had grown in power with his muscle and his dick. Maybe Barry knew what he was doing and was making his sexy, funky, male stink fill the room. “I guess so,” he said. “You’re still…?” “I’m horny as fuck, bro. No shit, I could stick this thing in a meat tenderizer and it wouldn’t grow a bit less hard.” He sat up and grabbed hold of his cock, and sure enough it started to respond to his attentions with immediate and noticeable effect, lengthening and thickening with alarming speed until it was rising to kiss its mouth to one of his dark, jutting nipples. He spat in his hand and slowly stroked himself, closing his eyes in the throes of evident sexual bliss. “Aw, fuck,” he moaned. “Jesus fucking Christ.” His voice was deep, like a growl from an animal—a very large, very dangerous animal sitting three feet away from Tim, stroking his nine-inch high prick in one hand while lifting his other arm and sticking his nose into his armpit, flaring his nostrils as he pulled the scent of himself deeply inside, breathing in what Tim was already breathing. • • • • “Did you feel something?” “What, like a disturbance in the Force, Obi Wan?” Charles was treating Jeremy to Christmas dinner at a small Chinese restaurant on the main drag. It was about the only thing open this night, and they had a few plates of food laid out between them on the table. Charles was looking through the front windows, his chin up, looking like a dog sniffing the air. Jeremy’s face was a mask of amusement and confusion, watching the handsome young man’s suddenly odd behavior. No, that wasn’t quite right. Charles was always slightly odd. This was just a bit odder. “You didn’t feel anything?” “Are you trying to be funny? Did you fart or something?” “I...what?” Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Never mind.” Charles had a concerned look on his face and was suddenly distracted. He hadn’t eaten much at all—more like moving the food around on the plate to make it appear that he had been eating. Which was odd, too, considering how big he was. Jeremy assumed that the guy had ordered all that food just for him. After all, a guy couldn’t get that big without some serious protein intake and hours at the gym. Which was also odd, since Charles never seemed to go to the gym. Or if he did, he didn’t have any gym clothes, or a gym bag, or any of the other paraphernalia that usually accompanies the gym-going guy. “What was it?” Jeremy asked. “Probably just my imagination,” Charles answered. He was looking directly into Jeremy’s eyes when he answered. He had an unusually penetrating gaze, and it was hard not to look back into those green, green orbs and start to fall inside them. “How’s your dinner?” Jeremy shrugged. “S’okay.” “But it’s not turkey.” “Well, no, it’s not. I still appreciate the gesture, Charles.” He tilted his head slightly. “Does anyone ever call you Chuck?” “Some people do. What do you ask?” “You look more like a Chuck.” “I prefer Charles.” “Okay, just wondering.” Charles pursed his lips slightly. “Is your mom a good cook?” He voice was so deep. Such an ordinary question seemed to take on additional meaning. “She’s all right. Makes a mean apple pie, though.” “Not pumpkin?” He shook his head. “Apple.” “We always had pumpkin.” This was the first time that Jeremy could remember Charles ever even mentioning his family. “What about your mom?” “My mom? She’s dead.” “Oh, Jeez, I’m sorry.” “No, it’s all right. It was a long time ago.” “She died when you were a kid?” “No, she… I mean, yeah.” He blew air between his lips and shoved a stray lock of blue-black hair back amongst its brothers. It made his biceps swell enormously and exposed a patch of dank, sweaty curls in his armpit. A wash of that spicy, sexy smell of his travelled across the table and wrapped around Jeremy. Charles left his hand at the nape of his neck, stretching slightly and showing off some of his pulchritudinous beauty as he asked, “What do you want to do, now?” He had changed the subject, again. He did that a lot. “How come you don’t talk about yourself?” His head tilted and one elegant eyebrow arched. “What do you mean?” “Well, we’ve been roommates for a few weeks, now, and I don’t know anything about you.” “Not much to tell,” he answered, enigmatically. He lowered his arm and his hand went beneath the table. “I’m nothing special.” Like hell, Jeremy thought. No one looks like you do, gets as big as you do, acts as weird as you do, and ends up being ‘nothing special.’ “Any other family?” Charles’s signature lopsided smile came to his lips. “I have a lot of brothers.” “How many?” “Lots.” “Like, five?” “Like five,” he answered. “And do these five brothers have names?” “They all have names.” Jeremy was staring at him. “Oh, you want to know their names?” “If that’s not too personal,” he replied with obvious sarcasm. “Um, so, Todd. Todd’s the oldest. And then Carlo... Carl. Carl is younger than me. Michael, who is kind of like Carl’s twin brother. They’re pretty much inseparable. And finally, there’s Adam. The youngest, though by no means the smallest.” “They’re all big like you?” “You could say that,” he answered, grinning. His arm was moving rhythmically now, accompanied by the sound of rubbing denim. “Okay. And no sisters?” “No sisters. Only brothers.” “And your father?” “Also dead.” “I keep going there, don’t I?” Charles shrugged. Jeremy noticed that the muscles lining the arm with the hand hidden under the table were flexing and stretching, as if Charles was clenching his hand into a fist or grabbing something. “You okay?” “I’m gonna… hit the powder room,” he explained. Then he stood, and it was hard for Jeremy—or anyone else within eyeshot for that matter—to miss the fact that Charles was sporting a huge hard-on in his jeans. His erection was so prominent that Jeremy could easily make out whether or not Charles was circumcised, and could practically count the veins stretching along the fat shaft that was snaking towards his hip. Jeremy’s mouth fell open in mute wonder at the sheer size of the thing, and he hardly noticed as Charles left a few bills on the table to “take care of the check,” before he walked away with rather uncomfortable gait. When he’d passed behind the men’s room door, Jeremy’s mouth finally closed and he let out a disbelieving huff. “Jesus,” he said softly. Then he looked toward the restroom again, as a very naughty thought sprang to life in his head. Well, suppose I had to go to the powder room too, he reasoned. There’s no earthly reason why only one of us would have to relieve themselves after a meal. And, after all, he could use the toilet if Charles was at the urinal or something. It didn’t mean that he was in there to watch Charles...do...anything. Did it? He looked for the waiter and saw him standing near the register, looking disinterested. Jeremy grabbed the cash in his hand and walked over, saying “keep the change,” before pivoting on his feet and facing the men’s room door. The Men’s Room. Fuckin’ A it was. Jeremy crossed the floor and set his hand to the handle, turning it—but it was locked. A deep, resounding voice from inside said, “Occupado.” “It’s Jeremy,” Jeremy said. “I’m… almost done.” “I really gotta go.” “One second?” Jeremy bit his lip. He could see Charles’s monster pushing against his denim covered groin in his mind’s eye. “I really, really gotta go.” There was a silent pause. “Okay,” Charles said. Then the handle unlocked and Jeremy turned the handle. It was a small restroom. Really just a bathroom, with a single toilet and a sink. A small, dirty window was half-open above the tank, and there was a wooden stairway outside. As Jeremy entered, Charles had his back to the door. His jeans were around his ankles—as usual, he hadn’t worn any underwear. His ass was magnificent. Two clenched orbs, round and smooth, with a hairy crack between. His legs were tree trunks, wrapped in slabs of muscle, and coated in a fine forest of dark curls. Jeremy asked, “What are you doing?” and stared at that perfect, powerful ass. “What am I doing?” His voice was gruff and deep. A slick, wet noise was coming from the front of him, and one arm was slowly moving. “Are you all right?” “I’m doing really good, as a matter of fact.” Charles slowly turned around—it was difficult with the pants tying his ankles, but he managed. And as he turned, it became quickly apparent that he was holding onto the biggest hard-on arching up from between his thickly muscled legs that Jeremy had ever seen. He was grinning—smiling really—with one hand grasping the middle of the shaft of his erection as the other was at his side, clenched into a fist. The fucking thing looked like it could handle at least two more hands! The tip was glistening with a drop of pre, and the whole of his hard-on was shining as if he’d managed to lube it all up with spit. “Feel free,” he said, nodding toward the toilet. “I’m… satisfying a different need at the moment.” He stroked himself slowly, moving his grip all the way up the inches of his erection and rubbing the head as if polishing an apple. “Jesus, Charles!” Jeremy closed the door behind them. It was a very tight squeeze. His roommate looked down at his incredible and outlandish hard-on and said. “Yeah, um, kind of big, huh?” “Jesus,” Jeremy repeated, staring at the thing. “‘Big’ doesn’t quite describe it!” Charles laughed slightly. He was slowly stroking the mammoth hard-on with a wet, slick sound. “So?” Jeremy looked up, into those green, green eyes. “So?” “You said you had to pee.” His eyebrows rose on his handsome face. His full lips curled into a smile. “So… pee.” “What about…?” “Well, I can’t very well walk out there with this in my hand, can I?” There was a kind of logic there, but still. “I guess not.” “And I can tell you that it ain’t going anywhere until I take care of it.” “Right.” “So?” “Suddenly, I don’t have to pee anymore.” “Really?” He continued stroking himself, slowly moving his meaty grip up and down the thick inches of rock-hard cock protruding from his loins. “Do you mind if I finish up, then?” Jeremy was mesmerized by the sight. It was a mammoth prick. So thick and shiny and huge. The head was like a plum. It was a foot long if it was an inch. He knew Charles was gifted with a monster, but this was ridiculous. “Unless you want to watch?” “Watch?” “Did you want to watch?” He lowered his chin, looking at Jeremy with a kind of feral need. The shock of the offer—and the invitation—and his sudden strong desire to say yes—all drove Jeremy to fumble with the handle to escape the small room, shutting the door behind him and breathing hard. “I’ll be just a minute,” Charles explained from the other side of the door. Jeremy looked over at the waiter, who was eyeing him back curiously. He smiled tentatively and half-waved at him, then felt completely stupid and went back to the table to wait. • • • • Alone in the bathroom, his hand on his boner, Chuck said, “Oops.” He shook his head and let out a soft huff of a laugh. Poor guy, he thought. Wants it so badly, but so scared of what he wants. “Then again,” he said aloud, looking down at his monster cock, “you’re an awful lot to take on for a first time.” He started stroking himself again, sending deep ripples of sexual bliss into his entire enhanced body as he considered what had happened. It was rare for him to lose control like that, but something had definitely occurred in the direction of the college, and it had to involve Tim. Whatever it was, it felt like his body had been splashed with hot water, and then it all coalesced on his crotch, and suddenly his dick was throbbing and swelling and feeling quite agreeably ready to rock and roll. It took a bit more of the self-control he was always manifesting over his physical form to keep his dick from ripping its way out of its denim cage, and his secondary cock was almost ready to bulge into the open, too. Perhaps, if he had really tried, he could have kept everything in check—but it just felt so damned good that he kind of didn’t want to. He may be one of the most beautiful creatures walking the planet and he was certainly gifted with powers and abilities far beyond what anyone had a right to, but inside that super-human shell there was still a human soul and a human heart and, it must be said, a human hard-on waiting to happen. In a sense, Chuck was 100% hard-on. And he’d been keeping his volume turned way, way down for weeks, now. Wasn’t it time for just a little recreation? Plus, Chuck was Chuck. He would always be Chuck. And if there was one thing Chuck liked more than anything else, it was the art of pleasure. And he was a true genius of that art, and could appreciate another genius’s work. Aw fuck, this felt good. Fuck, yeah. He probably shouldn’t have displayed himself so wantonly for Jeremy. Being that close to a foot-long wonder like he was showing off would make anyone in his inexperienced roommate’s place want to run. Not only was it intimidating from a comparison point of view—whose dick, besides maybe Tim’s, could even hope to measure up to it? But imagine dreaming about sucking on some handsome guy’s tool, and then come face to face with this monster! But, Chuck was Chuck. Why do something halfway when you could be past the finish line and be back at the bar with a beer—or a dick—in your hand in half the time? So rather than turn around holding something a bit more... manageable, he’d shown off like he always did and brought out the big guns too early. He could have shown the poor guy a fourteen-incher with a shaft so fat that it resembled a third leg and a bulbous purple head dripping cream in a puddle on the floor. A simple ten-incher slick with spit seemed almost within the realms of propriety by contrast. “Yeah,” he growled aloud, as if speaking to his cobra. “Ten ain’t so bad, right? I mean what if I showed him this.” He watched his cock extend, growing longer like a telescope, swelling in his hand to a full twelve inches. “Or this?” His sideways grin slid onto his full, sensuous lips and his cock grew again, with sudden and magical speed, swelling another two inches longer. “Or, like, this?” Now he unleashed it, and it grew all the way across the small room, rubbing its drooling tip against the door. Chuck grinned and stroked it, easily amused at his odd sense of humor. At least Jeremy was showing determination. Coming into the bathroom with him—that was a step in the right direction. Probably inviting him to watch was the bridge too far, as it were, but what the hell? Chuck liked it when someone watched. Or watching someone. Or fucking someone. Or being fucked by someone. Or, hopefully, all at the same time. But back to the matter at hand—quite literally—Chuck allowed himself to manifest a nice, strong orgasmic release, making his balls swell to bursting with cream and then shoving it up his cock, feeling every millimeter of the push with a truman’s intensity. It felt good, just as it always did. He sat down on the toilet with his hard-on arching up between his heavily-muscled thighs. Then he bent his head and opened his mouth, allowing his augmented dick to arch upward and stretch its long, long neck toward him. He felt the head of his cock push between his jaws and into his warm, wet mouth, moaning with intense pleasure and sending deep vibrations along his shaft. He sucked blissfully against his own cock, feeling its hardness and heat shoving against the back of his throat. The head swelled and he started pumping a steady, hard stream of powerful, satisfying cream that filled him up as no other food could. He grabbed hold of his mammoth tool with both hands and shoved a gallon of cum inside himself, swallowing greedily and feelings its powers enhance and satisfy him utterly, drowning in the power of Transform. After he had sated himself, he pulled his cock from his mouth with a wet pop and sat back, slowly stroking it as it relaxed again—and he thought about Tim. He’d been treading very carefully, so far. Maybe too carefully, in light of recent events. He was trying to use his transformed powers to discover what he could about the young man and what he could do, what he had become, without tipping his hand. It was agreed by the others that whatever this was, it was safer for events to work themselves out without truman interference. If this was a new strain—a different strain—what would it become on its own? It was a delicate balancing act that required a kind of finesse that was unusual for Chuck, whose methods more often resembled a bull in a china shop, shoving enough transforming power at a lucky dude to make him split his seams in a heartbeat and start fountaining his own transforming cream before he knew what hit him. Tim certainly showed all the signs, and having sampled just a bit of his cream at the abandoned T Gym, it was clear that whatever he was—he was some part truman. And that part was still growing in power and capability. Though it seemed unfair not to help Tim through this, he was coping all right so far, and it had been his decision to take this path. Interfering might make things better—or they might make things worse. Jeremy was another matter, and not one Chuck had counted on. He recognized the innocent young man for what and who he was, and quickly realized that it was a second situation that would test his resolve and his patience. He was feeling fatherly about the young man, though fatherly in an uncommon way, being that this father would feel no compunction about flopping his beautiful little son over and fucking him silly. Maybe ‘fatherly’ was the wrong term. Mentor! He was a mentor. A mentor who would feel no compunction about flopping his beautiful pupil over and so on and so forth and orgasm. It was curious that Jeremy had felt nothing—or reported feeling nothing. Chuck was quite familiar with all the enhancements that a truman should acquire, and though he partly understood that Tim was not quite there, yet, it was unusual that whatever just happened seemed only to affect Chuck. Or perhaps it was just that the affect was so muted by distance or power that it took a truman’s enhanced... well... everything to feel it. Hopefully, that meant that it hadn’t affected anyone else, either. Because whatever it was, that shit was strong enough to cause a being in total control of their physical self to spring a boner in a public restaurant. Jeremy was so fucking cute. There were no two ways about that. And smart, Chuck liked those things, and especially when they went together. It was evident from the way he talked about Tim in such disparaging—but constant—terms that he liked him and was interested in him but afraid at the same time. The old “I hate him/I love him” routine. Though maybe in this case it was more like “I hate the way he makes me feel.” Admittedly, Tim was an awful lot of man for a first love, or even a first fuck. Jeremy was probably misguided about a great many things and undoubtedly a virgin. Chuck felt that he wasn’t the right man for that job—probably someone thoughtful like Carlos, or someone almost as innocent like Adam would be far more suitable—but, damn it, he liked Jeremy. He wanted Jeremy to be happy. And he wanted Jeremy to be happy on his own terms. Could Chuck help it if he was just too irresistibly sexy? He felt like he had toned himself down pretty far. After all, this was a guy who could literally think a man to an orgasm. He could grant a man bulging muscles—or a monster prick—with a mere touch of his hand. He could turn a man on so completely just with his voice that he’d cream inside his skivvies before he knew what hit him. Chuck was made of sex. It oozed from his pores and traveled in his scent and tingled from the tip of every shining hair on his muscular body. He was the bottled essence of perfect manhood, a ticking bomb of orgasmic lust, a being so perfectly attuned to the unending well of sexual power manifested inside him that he could walk into a room full of men and have every one of them naked, erect and worshipping his body before the door closed behind his amazing, dick-sucking ass. So it was a kind of two-pronged test for Chuck. Guiding a young truman without complicating his path, and taking the hand of a scared, confused young man who desperately ached to feel another man’s arms around him, without scaring him the fuck away. Finally, he allowed himself to deflate to more believable dimensions, stood up, pulled up his jeans, tucked himself back inside the tight crotch, zipped himself up, checked his reflection in the dirty mirror (looking mighty fine, Chuckster!) and exited the restroom. Jeremy was at the table, sitting with his back to the bathroom door. Chuck—or, Charles—put his hand on his small roommate’s shoulder, causing him to jump reflexively, and said, in the best double entendre voice he could manage, “It’s all yours.” Jeremy got up without looking at him and went toward the bathroom. He still didn’t need to take a piss, but he was damned if he was going to give Charles the satisfaction. Shutting the door, again, the singular scent that screamed Charles at him was everywhere in the small room. He tried to pry open the window, but it wouldn’t budge. Jesus. Jesus! That cock! That huge, awesome, fat, long, massive, amazing, mouth-watering cock! It was... it was... Jeremy didn’t even know what that was! No one owned something that big! No one in any porn video he ever sneaked a look at on his computer, not any of the hidden pictures in his naked man stash—even morphed fantasy images on Deviant Art of fantastic muscular hunks with giant cocks would have a hard time measuring up to what Charles had tucked away in his tight blue jeans! Fuck! Hell! God damn! What a cock! Who the hell was that guy? Jeremy splashed water on his face and washed his hands. He breathed in the intoxicating scent of the man, picturing his perfect ass and that incredible dick and steadied his nerves. They were going to walk back to the dorm room now. They would walk back there, and be alone together, in the room, with their beds, and Charles’s body, and Charles’s ass, and Charles’s cock. Charles would get naked, because that’s what Charles did, and then he’d lie there, next to him, pumping out that fucking sexy smell, with his cock lying across his muscled thigh, breathing slowly, looking at him, those green eyes, that kissable mouth, that powerful voice. Fuck. Fuck! Jeremy was scared shitless. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked so small, and so timid, and so nothing. Life sucked. Everything sucked. He closed his eyes and leaned on the sink and suddenly felt hot and tired. Then there was a knock at the door, and Charles asked, “Are you all right?” “I’m fine,” he said, weakly. “Are you sure? Because I think I probably shocked you, and that was a pretty dick move on my part, and I wanted to apologize to you for that.” Jeremy looked into the mirror again. “No, it’s all right.” “You’re sure?” Charles voice was so deep, it nearly shook the door from its hinges. “I’ll be out in a second,” Jeremy answered, without answering. “I’m taking a piss.” After a pause, Charles said. “Okay. Sorry about that, Jeremy. It was a dick move.” A dick move. A dick that moved. One hell of a dick. Jeremy felt like it was going to be a very long night. Part 8 Christmas Night The walk back to the campus was very cold, and very dark. Jeremy held his coat around his small body as the winter winds tried to steal it away. Charles walked with a sort of proud, strutting stride, though perhaps his long legs created his gait. His hips swayed with a fairly pronounced sexuality, and it made the globes of his ass flex and bulge in a most uncomfortable fashion for Jeremy’s taste. His jeans were too tight for him to slip his hands into his pockets, so they swung easily at his sides, far out from his body because of the width of his shoulders and lats. Jeremy was a big glad for the darkness, because it concealed the bulge from the huge and amazing appendage pushing forward with such determination from his roommate’s crotch. Charles was almost a full head taller than the smaller boy, and was about twice as wide, even with Jeremy’s thick winter coat taken into account. He supposed they made a very odd pair, moving along the abandoned roads and lanes, making their way up the foothills and back to the dorm. They had not spoken a word. Charles seemed distracted and distant, which Jeremy attributed to his own rude entrance into his roommate’s privacy. He was probably pissed off, and his odd offer and awkward apology did little to dissuade Jeremy of that opinion. A thought occurred to Jeremy, though its origins were mysterious to him when he found himself opening his mouth and words started coming out of nowhere. “How do you...” was all he managed to say before his brain thought better of what his libido wanted to know. Charles let the unasked question hang in the cold air for a couple of strides, and then he observed, “You do that a lot.” His strong, clear voice seemed very loud in the silence of the darkness. “Do what?” “Not ask questions,” Charles said. “You know that, right?” “I don’t....” “You do,” Charles said, with finality. “It doesn’t really bother me, I’m used to it. And I think I understand why. But you should know you do it, and it can be... frustrating.” Jeremy didn’t have an immediate response, so Charles continued. “You should just ask your question, whatever it is. If you’re afraid of the answer, that’s probably a good thing. That means you don’t know the answer, and the question should probably be asked.” He looked over. His smile was bright on his whiskered face. “If you already know the answer, then there’s no need asking. Right?” Jeremy shrugged, embarrassed into silence. Charles said, “So?” “So what?” “You asked, ‘How do you’, and then you stopped. I assume you wanted to ask me something, rather than asking yourself a question. How do I what?” Jeremy’s heartbeat sped up. He didn’t really want to pursue this line of questioning, and was trying to think of something besides the thing he was going to ask Charles. And into the intervening silence, Charles said, “You’re not very good at this. Perhaps you should practice.” “Good at what?” “Just ask your question.” “How... how do you manage with... that thing?” “Thing?” “Your... penis.” “My cock,” Charles corrected. “I think you can make that distinction. When you’re talking to another guy about their cock, you should use ‘cock.’ Unless you’re a doctor, and then penis is probably more appropriate.” “Your cock,” Jeremy corrected, but he provided a bit too much emphasis on the word, again, and it felt awkward to say it. “Better,” Charles said. “Did you have a specific situation in mind, or just generally speaking?” Jeremy shrugged. This was weirder than he imagined it being. “Dunno,” he answered. Charles huffed a soft laugh out of his nostrils, and Jeremy demanded, “What?” “You’re really not very good at this.” “This what?” “Flirting.” The single word made Jeremy’s body heat up and he could feel the flush of red coming to his pale skin. “What?!?” He said it more loudly and with more emphasis than he intended. “Try again,” Charles advised. “I’m not flirting!” “Not very well,” Charles agreed. “I’m not!” he protested again. “Call it what you like, Jeremy, but when one guy asks another guy about his cock, that’s flirting.” He paused. “It’s probably more than flirting, whatever that is. Propositioning, maybe.” “You said cock! I said penis!” “Tomato, tomahto.” He walked on a few strides, then said again, “So?” “I wasn’t flirting.” Charles ignored the objection. He reached down toward his crotch and grabbed hold of himself. His palm pressed against the thick shaft of his equipment and pushed the head toward his hip. His jeans were nearly bursting from the press of his full basket. “You get used to it,” he said. “People stare, sometimes, but why wouldn’t they? It’s huge. Probably the biggest one they’ve ever encountered. And there’s something rude about it, just because it’s so overt—so big. Frankly I don’t think too much about it—certainly not as much as others seem to do.” Jeremy felt himself flush with embarrassment again. “Does that answer your question?” He gulped. “I... was thinking more about...” “Sex?” Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, I have to admit that sometimes that’s problematic. I mean, I can make it work. But it can be off-putting, if that’s the right word. People see it like this, like now, you know, behind a wall of denim or cupped inside a pair of underwear, and it only suggests its size. Looks impressive, probably infers a sense of eroticism, just the size of it, the outline, the... impression of sex. But when they actually see it, like you did, when its full extents are openly bared, so to speak, then this look of trepidation occurs, like, ‘wow, can I really take all of that on? is it going to hurt?’” He let the question hang there for a few strides, then he added, “It doesn’t hurt. It feels good. It always feels good.” “How do you know?” “Mostly from the intense moans of pleasure and the occasional exclamations like ‘holy fuck, this feels good.’” He looked over. “But they’re usually screaming that. I just didn’t want to alarm the neighbors.” “How... big...” “See, now, I don’t care who you are—that’s flirting, Jeremy.” “Shut up,” he said, sullenly. “I haven’t measured it. Do you measure yours?” “I’ve never really thought....” “I mean, it’s kind of ludicrous to worry about that, right? You can see how big it is. How would its actual measurements matter?” “I was just... wondering.” “Uh huh,” Charles said, growling like a bear. “I am not flirting with you!” “What would you call asking another guy how big his cock is?” “Curiosity.” “Oh, I see. Like, ‘what do you do for a living?’ Or, ‘what’s your favorite dessert?’ Or, ‘exactly how big is your cock?’ I trust you see my point. Doesn’t routinely come up in conversation. Unless I am hanging out with the wrong crowd, because your friends sound a lot more interesting.” He shrugged. “It’s just you and me, Jeremy. Ask me whatever you want to ask me. I don’t mind flirting. I actually really enjoy it, usually. But you need a lot more training if you’re planning on being effective at it.” “I wish you’d stop talking about me like I’m stupid.” “You’re not stupid. You’re far from stupid. But you’re inexperienced. You’re shy. And you’re scared.” He slowed down and stopped. “You don’t ever need to be scared of me, Jeremy. Ever. Do you understand?” “I guess so.” “Okay.” Charles said. Street lamps were few and far between, and the moonless, glowering sky made him feel a bit fearful, even given the fact that the guy beside him could probably bench press a semi truck with its trailer attached. He didn’t know these neighborhoods, or their occupants, and most of the buildings and homes they passed were also dark. Probably filled with ghosts of Christmases past, rattling their chains and bringing nightmares to all the guilty misers. “Guilty,” he said softly. “Pardon?” The word was like a soft rumble from the muscular beast beside him. “Guilty,” he repeated. “Who’s guilty?” “Sorry, I was just... I was thinking about Dickens.” “Dickens who?” “Charles Dickens. ‘A Christmas Carol’ and ghosts. All these dark houses, kind of gives me the creeps.” “You don’t need to be afraid,” Charles said. “Nothing can hurt you while I’m around.” “I suppose you could just flash your dick at them and scare them away.” The same instant that he finished saying it, Jeremy regretted saying it, so he said, “Sorry,” rather meekly after. Charles laughed softly. “You’re probably right, assuming I could whip it out fast enough.” “You could just beat the shit out of them,” he suggested. “I couldn’t do that,” Charles said, seriously. “Why not?” “I couldn’t,” was all he said. They walked on. Passing beneath a light cast their shadows on the ground, and emphasized for Jeremy the differences in their bodies. Even Charles’s shadow was huge. The wind picked up with a sudden gust, and Jeremy tugged his coat closer. Charles asked, “Are you cold?” “Aren’t you?” He shrugged. “I suppose so,” he answered. “Are you...?” The big man looked over. His green eyes seemed alight in the night’s darkness. “Are you pissed at me?” “Why would I be pissed at you?” he asked. It was Jeremy’s turn to shrug. “You seem like you’re pissed at me.” “I feel like we’ve had this conversation before, only I was the one asking you that question.” “I just...” “I’m not pissed at you, Jeremy. I’m... thinking.” “What about?” Charles looked over, pausing as if considering his answer. “Secrets,” he said at last. “Oh,” he answered, not wishing to pry further. “That’s it?” “What’s it?” “‘Oh.’ I’m thinking about secrets and your response is ‘Oh.’” “Well, they’re secrets. Secrets are... secret.” He felt immediately dumb saying that. “Wow. You’re not very good at this, either.” “This what?” “People. Conversation. Talking.” But Charles’s response made Jeremy feel a pang of anger. “I told you, I’m....” “Shy. Yes, you told me. And that’s understandable. So I’m going to let you in on another secret. It’s not one of the secrets I was thinking about, but it’s one you need to hear. It’s something you’d learn eventually, anyway, but I think you’ll find it very handy—even as young as you are.” “Oh, and you’re all old and wise, is that it?” They were walking slower as they talked, now. The line of houses started to fall behind as the hill’s angle increased. There were fewer street lights, and the trees were dancing in the cold night winds. “Sometimes, when two people are talking, and one person wants to tell the other something important—or ask them something important... and by important I mean important to that person. They don’t know what the other person feels about it, because they haven’t told them. So there’s a fear, there. You know? The greatest fear there is, Jeremy. Do you know what that is?” His brow wrinkled and he swallowed hard. “Death?” “Sort of. It’s sort of the same thing.” He paused, looking at his small roommate. “No, it’s fear of the unknown. When you don’t know what will happen, or what someone else will think, or say, or do. Sometimes, that fear is thrilling, like riding a roller coaster. Sometimes it’s dreadful, like when you have a secret to tell, something you feel shame about, or something you did wrong and you know it.” “Is that what your secrets are?” “We’re not quite there, yet, Jeremy. I still haven’t told you the first secret. The one about people, and conversations, and talking.” Charles slowed to a stop, and turned to face his smaller friend. “Sometimes, when one person wants to let the other person in, they leave an opening. An opening is, like, a clue, or maybe a hint, but it’s more than nothing, and often it’s very small.” “A small opening.” “Yes.” “And did you leave me a small opening?” “I did.” he said it openly, not softly, not as if he was ashamed of something. “But you weren’t listening. And that’s not your fault. No one listens. Or very few people do. Because people are so concerned with what others think, they tend to spend around 90% of their concentration on themselves. Protecting themselves, picking the right words, or no words at all.” “So... secrets...?” “Secrets. That was an opening. That was me inviting you in. I could have responded like you do, and said ‘nothing.’” He tried to imitate Jeremy’s voice, but it sounded rather childish. “Nothing is bothering me. Nothing is happening. I’m not letting you in. And the more you push, the tighter I’ll close the opening.” “I don’t do that.” “Of course you do. Everyone does. Because it’s scary inviting someone in. You never know what they’ll say, or do. So it’s easier to pretend that nothing is wrong, and you’re better off alone, and life will just magically get better.” He sighed a small breath through his nose. “Anyway, now you know. And maybe you’ll practice listening. And waiting for small openings.” He turned and started walking slowly up the hill. Jeremy stood there for a couple of heartbeats, wondering what he was supposed to do, now. “What do I do now?” he called. Charles stopped and gently laughed. He turned around and said, “Now you come through the opening.” “I... I don’t know how!” “You do,” Charles advised him. “Shall I try it again?” “From over there?” “If you’d rather. If this is less intimidating.” Charles looked like the Incredible Hulk, but there was nothing very intimidating about him. “Did you want me to shout my secrets at you from here?” Jeremy approached him on the dark, lonely sidewalk. “Ok.” “You’re ready?” “I think I’m ready.” They stood looking at each other. Charles said, “Well?” “Well what?” “You have to start. I can’t start. I wouldn’t just blurt out ‘secrets’ for no reason.” “Oh. Sorry. Still new at this.” Charles nodded, and waited. “I... I don’t remember what I asked you.” Then Charles laughed gently. “You asked me what I was thinking about.” “Oh, right. Because I was all ‘you’re pissed at me,’ and you were all, ‘no I’m not,’ and....” “Jeremy.” “Sorry. Charles,” he said rather formally, “what are you thinking about?” “Secrets,” he replied, with a hint of mystery. Jeremy stood his ground and thought about his response. Finally, he said, “Secrets?” Charles smiled. “Yes,” he verified. “Whose secrets?” “Mine,” he answered. “Oh,” Jeremy said again. He looked into Charles’s eyes. “Did I walk through the opening?” “You sort of nudged it with your foot, but that’s a good start.” “Now what?” Charles started walking toward the campus again, and Jeremy followed. “Are you sure you want to know? Because if you start going through the openings, you’ll start making friends, and meeting people, and... I’m afraid there’s just no way to avoid it... having sex.” “What’s sex got to do with anything?” “I’m sure you’ve met someone you’re interested in.” “I’m interested in a lot of people.” “You know what I mean,” Charles said. Jeremy was thankful that the darkness concealed his blushing face. “I still don’t see what...” “The biggest fear of all, because it’s the biggest unknown of all, is being with someone else because you like them—or love them. Because that’s putting it all out there. That’s baring your heart and soul. And you’re handing someone else the keys... or, some kind of metaphor. I was gonna say you’re handing them the shoe to stomp all over your heart, but that just sounds weird. Handing someone a shoe? I mean, honestly, who does that?” “I think you’re veering off course just a bit.” “Oh, right. Anyway, secrets are one thing. Friends share secrets. They entrust them to each other. Or family, sometimes. But lovers... lovers are in a category all to themselves. And I don’t mean someone you just fuck for fun. Nothing against that, believe me. Fucking for the sake of fucking.” Jeremy was silent—he had nothing to add to this line of conversation. He had no experience to share. So Charles went on. “But when you meet someone to want to be with, and to share everything with them—not just physically naked but emotionally naked, stripped bare of everything, down to the real you—what’s scarier than that?” “I still don’t see what one thing has to do with the other.” “It all starts with a small opening. Maybe it’s a confession. Maybe it’s a question, a seemingly innocent question that’s overloaded with baggage. ‘Do you like me?’ Or, ‘Can I kiss you?’ And then you nudge your foot in.” Jeremy had a strong urge to nudge more than his foot in, and to say ‘Yes, I like you. Yes, you can kiss me. You can fucking well do whatever you want to with me, Charles.’ He felt hot and his heart was beating fast and his mouth went dry. My God, he thought, Charles was right. This is the biggest fear of them all. “Okay,” he said, but his voice trembled slightly. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Charles asked. ‘Fucking yes!’ Jeremy wanted to scream. He wanted to shout it out. But instead he only nodded, and Charles placed his large, warm hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “You’ll be fine,” Charles told him. “Just be brave.” Jeremy sighed as the moment passed. His whole small body was trembling, washed with a rush of emotion and adrenaline, all trying to compensate for what was happening on the cold, dark sidewalk. And then Charles took his hand away, and they were walking again. “Do you want to hear my secrets?” “I’m not entirely sure,” Jeremy confessed. “That was an awful lot of drama to take in, and I haven’t even heard anything good, yet.” Charles huffed a laugh from his nose, raising a fog bank before his chiseled features. “True enough,” Charles admitted. “It’s unlike me to be so dramatic. Maybe you bring the drama queen out in me. You’re always so serious.” Charles’s face reflected a comic ‘serious’ mask, pursing his full lips and furrowing his brow. They walked a few paces, and then Jeremy said, “Secrets.” “Mmm,” Charles moaned. “Secrets.” He stretched his neck, as if preparing for battle. “Okay, so... you’ve remarked more than once that I’m odd.” “Everyone is odd,” Jeremy replied. “Now who’s taking words out of someone else’s mouth?” Jeremy remembered Charles telling him the exact same thing in the library. “But it’s true,” he added. “It’s true,” Charles agreed. Then he sighed. “Anyway... so....” “You don’t have to tell me,” Jeremy volunteered. “I want to,” Charles answered. “I find that I need to share this with someone, but it’s a big secret.” He looked sideways at his small companion. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I’m just... concerned.” “Concerned,” Jeremy repeated. “Yes,” Charles verified. “Maybe it’s best if I don’t...” “You’re gay,” Jeremy said. “That’s a label. I’m not anything. I’m Chu... Charles.” Jeremy stopped dead. “You’re gay?” Charles stopped, too. “I suppose, technically, by human standards, I’m gay.” “Human standards?” There he goes, being weird again, Jeremy thought. Charles slowly sighed. “I’m truman,” he said, simply. Jeremy’s face showed his confusion. “Get the fuck out of here.” Charles shrugged in response. “You’re not truman.” Charles nodded. “Trumans are huge! I mean, yeah, you’re big, but trumans are... they’re... but...” “What do you think you know about trumans?” “They’re, like, twelve feet tall or something, and always naked, and they’re super-strong and super-big, impossibly beautiful, physically perfect, kind of mythical if you ask me, since no one’s seen one around for a couple of years....” “Well, I don’t know about perfect,” he said, modestly. “And two dicks and they can fucking fly and....” “Pretty much all true,” Charles verified. “But we’re not twelve feet tall.” “Well, I kind of thought that was...” “More like eighteen feet.” Jeremy’s face contorted with confusion and disbelief. “Well, I hate to be the one to point this out, Charles, but you’re not eighteen feet tall. You’re very tall. Nothing against you. But eighteen feet? If trumans were eighteen feet tall wouldn’t we kind of notice them wandering about?” “We’re not always eighteen feet tall.” “Well, obviously! I mean, look at you! You’re not even seven feet tall, so trumans must be able to shut themselves up like Alice in Wonderland, getting bigger and smaller with a cookie or something.” “It’s not a cookie. I’m not sure what it is, honestly. But that’s not...” “Charles, why... why would you do that to me? Why would you lie to me? After all that build up about openings and honesty and friendship, and then you say something that is obviously not true.” “So you want proof.” “I’m sorry if that offends you, but yeah. Kinda. I mean, you’re a good looking guy and all. And, y’know, that is one impressive hunk of meat in your pants. But trumans are... they’re... well, let’s just say that you’re not a truman.” “You sure you want proof?” “What are you gonna do, Charles? Fly?” It was dark, and hard to see. The cold wind was blowing. The nearby trees were whispering in their branches. There was a ripping sound. A tearing sound. Material being rent by force. Charles’s silhouette was swelling outward, as if it was consuming the darkness to grow itself. The size of him, of his dark shape, was expanding outward in all directions. It was growing taller and wider in a slow, steady progression, as if he were stepping closer to Jeremy, but Jeremy knew that Charles wasn’t moving. His scent was suddenly strong, the unmistakably sexy smell of Charles was everywhere. And his heat. A palpable heat, but also a sense of heat, of the heat of sex. Something fell from his body. The ripping noises stopped. His inflation stopped. And then he stood there, bigger than before. Charles was suddenly two feet taller. His clothes were ripped cleanly from his body, torn at the seams and shredded into tatters that fell about his huge feet. Everything on his body amplified all at once. His muscles expanded, his shoulders widened, his chest pushed forward, his arms swelled with brawn. And his cock—which had already been an impressive specimen—now hung like a fat salami between his powerfully muscled thighs, dangling several inches beyond the one-foot mark and fucking thick as a tree limb. “Obviously not true?” Charles asked, crossing his incredibly-muscled arms across his thickly-muscled chest. “Fuck,” Jeremy summarized. “Well, yes.” He just stood there in the darkness, naked and unashamed, over eight feet tall and covered in thick, heavy plates and cables of raw, perfect brawn. Jeremy no longer felt cold. He felt very warm, both inside and out. His cock pulsed and throbbed. He felt a trickle of sweat down his spine. His mouth went dry. He was dumbfounded. This was too much. “But...” “Sure,” Charles said, turning around to display his perfect ass. His voice was profoundly masculine. A deep, thrumming sensation like the earth moving. “I’ve been told I look better from this angle, anyway.” “No, but...” “No butt? No problem.” He pivoted again, displaying his perfect eight-pack abs and his perfect massive pecs and his perfect, lengthy, thick as Jeremy’s arm prick. “I can get bigger, if you need further proof.” “You’re....” “I am,” Charles verified. “So, shall I get bigger? Do you want me to perform some more tricks? Maybe fly around a little or something?” “But....” “You’ve already seen that, and though it is impressive... how about the twins? Want to see a guy with two dicks?” He glanced down his body and Jeremy followed his eyes. And there, between his powerful legs, there were now, as if by magic, two fat cocks, each the other’s twin, both fat and firm and beautiful. “Voila,” he said, rather unimpressively. He reached down and took one into each of his large hands. They easily spilled beyond his grips, dangling forward inches longer than before. Jeremy’s jaw fell open. “I know, I’m overwhelming. I’m amazing.” He said it matter-of-factly, but not without condescension. Was he teasing Jeremy, or making fun of himself? “Should I tone it down?” “It?” Jeremy could hardly think. “Yes, I think I’d better.” The heat—the sense of it, the feeling of sex—mitigated. “I don’t have a good sense of how much is too much. I thought, with us being outdoors like this and in a breeze, that might lessen the effect. Sorry about that.” “Too much,” Jeremy said softly. “Yeah, it’s something that happens. I just give it off. Like sweating. Only it makes other guys feel... rather nice.” He shrugged. It looked like mountains shifting. “I can turn it off if that helps. I kind of don’t even notice it, anymore.” “You can turn it off?” “Or I can just be Charles again.” Then he was. Just like that. Only naked, and with the usual number of dicks. “Better?” “How can you...?” He took a step forward. He was beautiful. He was magnificent. Naked and perfect. “Not entirely human anymore. That’s how I can. Changed, and then changed some more, and then changed even more. And so on, like that, for months and months—years, even.” He was speaking softly, almost tenderly, as if explaining something complicated to a small child. “It’s a long, sordid, impossible story, and much too dull to tell again. But there are complications to be faced, and situations to avoid, and people who shouldn’t know about me.” “Why...?” Jeremy couldn’t seem to get his brain working right, again. His body was overheated, and his cock was sucking all the blood into itself, swelling enormously in his pants. “I’ve shocked you again. Twice in one night.” He narrowed his eyes and looked at Jeremy with his penetrating green gaze. “Are you all right?” “You’re a truman.” “It’s always the dicks that gets them.” He smiled and winked. “How do you...?” “All part of the package. It’s just a very... big package.” He smiled. “No pun intended.” “You’re naked.” “Am I?” He looked down at his magnificent body. “So I am.” He glanced down at his shredded clothing and bent to scoop up the torn cloth, holding it in his hands. “It’s going to be hard to get back into these.” He dropped them again. “Do you mind if I meet you back at the room? It’ll be hard to explain why I’m walking back there with you naked. I mean, what will people think?” He smiled, though, indicating his poor joke. “How will you get back without...?” “Like you said, Jeremy. Trumans can fly.” He was there, and then he wasn’t. He crouched, slightly, and tilted his head up, and launched off the sidewalk in eerie silence. No whoosh of wind, no rushing sound. He was just gone, up into the night skies, naked and perfect and, apparently, flying. Jeremy’s head was spinning. His heart was pounding. He was short of breath and dry-mouthed. There was no sign at all that Charles had ever actually been beside him. He picked up the remnants of his clothes and disappeared, upwards. The sky was grey and soft flakes were swirling, dancing on the cold winds. Somewhere up there, Charles was dancing with them. • • • • As Jeremy ran back to the college, his mind started processing the things he knew—or he thought he knew—about trumans. By now, there was a fairly strong belief that the whole thing had been nothing but a huge trick. There was certainly something odd about their secrecy, and about their sudden disappearance. Some people thought it was just elaborate computer-generated imaging that created them, and all the photos were just Photoshopped manipulations. That certainly didn’t explain it all, but it made more sense than what was supposedly true. He imagined the images he’d seen himself online, and fantasized about ever since. The massively muscled torsos, the incredibly handsome and hyper-masculine faces, the—there was no other word for it—monstrous cocks. They were shown striding the street dressed in almost nothing at all. They were shown inviting men to their gyms, promising them the same bodies with the same huge muscular development and incredible beauty. For months they were seemingly everywhere—and then they were nowhere. Just... gone. Images that had been online were gone. Videos erased. Wikipedia articles disappeared. People still remembered them, of course, but there was no supporting information anywhere. They seemed to disappear as suddenly as they appeared. Then the usual claims of conspiracy and government secrets and hallucinogens in the water and who knew what all. The government did seem to go suspiciously quiet about all of it—not that they were overly anxious to be involved in the whole thing in the first place. But who else would be going about trying to erase it all, and pretend it never happened? And where had they all gone? No one just evaporates! No one just goes invisible! Now this guy, this Charles, claimed he was one of them. And to all appearances, it was true. He did, after all, just fly away. He flew! He fucking... just... flew! • • • • Barry was bathed in a wash of cream. It clung to the fur across the muscular plates of his impressive pectoral muscles in pearlescent droplets. It swam into the valleys between his egg-carton six-pack abdominals. It flowed into the dark forest of pubic curls that crowned the majesty of his fat, throbbing cock. Runnels of cream drained down from the mouth of his upright snake, coating his grip like icing. His other arm was raised as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. Sweat glittered like crystals in the moist pit of his arm and made his skin glisten. He could smell the rank, earthy tang of his ass on his fingers where he had been pushing them into his hole while he stroked another thick load from his balls. He had an urge to pull them into his mouth, to taste his own butthole, to see what that was like, but he resisted that urge while his roommate was watching him. Because he wasn’t gay. But his roommate was. Tim was sprawled on his own bed next to Barry, separated by a three-foot wide space. He could smell his roommate’s sexy funk distinctly. Smell his sweat and his cum and his ass. Smell his skin and his hair and his fur. Smell the scent of Barry like the smell of home cooking. God, he smelled good. Tim wasn’t coated in cream. His body was different, and whatever splatters and puddles of cum from his massive, foot-high prick that landed on his skin, his body drank it inside like water on a parched dessert. Cum was Tim’s food of choice, the essence of his power and the most delicious item on the menu. He had pointed the nozzle of his cock at his own handsome face and jetted fat ropes of warm cream into his open mouth with practiced ease. It bathed his tongue and teeth in a salty tang of masculine power and he swallowed it all down greedily. His legs were sprawled apart, one foot perched on the bed and the other on the floor. His heavy balls hung off the edge of the mattress, two farm-fresh eggs still swollen with seed. His body glistened with sweat, making his smooth, beautiful skin shine like pale metal. He had a smile on his full lips as he licked them clean. Now he was enveloped in an afterglow of the power of his own essence, feeling it inside his body like a kind of milk that made him feel whole and complete. He moaned with a blissful satisfaction and heard his roommate’s throaty laugh. “Fuck, dude,” Barry said. “That was amazing.” Without opening his eyes, Tim nodded and said, “Agreed.” Barry looked over. Tim’s eyes were still closed. His chest rose and fell as he slowly breathed. He was bigger than ever, bigger than any bodybuilder Barry had ever seen. Muscle was packed onto his long, powerful body. It was bulging with wedges and balls and plates of brawn, all arranged in perfect harmony across his naked frame. His dick was still hard, still a foot high, still swarmed with veins pulsing with hard, dull throbs. The head was pushed free of its usual cowl of foreskin and glistened with cum and spit. Barry tentatively pulled his butt-juiced fingers toward his mouth and pushed his tongue toward them, smelling his ass on his touch. He licked the tip of his tongue gingerly against the stink and tasted sweetness. “Fuck,” he said softly. “Indeed,” Tim agreed, looking at him as he pulled his fingers away from his tongue. He was smiling. “You sure you’re not gay, Barry?” “What? What the fuck?” He sat up quickly, shocked that he had been caught. “Because that seems pretty gay to me.” “I wasn’t doing any....” Tim nudged aside his huge ball sack with the heel of his hand and rubbed his middle finger against the warm, moist lips of his own asshole. He circled the pucker a couple of time and then pushed the finger inside, to the second knuckle, before withdrawing it and observing the wetness clinging to the skin. His smell was strong and funky. Then he brought the digit up to his mouth and pushed it inside, sucking noisily and sighing with contentment. “Fuck yeah, dude. Lick that shit up!” “I did not just do that.” Tim laughed. “I’m just fucking with you.” Then he pivoted on his bed and spread his legs wide and lifted them up with alarming ease and flexibility as his bed groaned to support his weight. He exposed his tight, rosy pink hole toward his roommate. “Dive in, bro! I haven’t had a good rimming in weeks!” Barry threw up his hands to shield his eyes. “Put that shit away! Damn, that’s nasty!” “You sure? It’s definitely a full meal!” He rubbed his fingers against his pucker again and stuck them to his nostrils, pulling in a deep breath of his own funk. “Fuck you, Tim! Shut your fucking legs! No one wants to see your asshole!” Tim was laughing as he lowered his feet to the bed and sat looking at his handsome roommate. Barry had grown again only an hour or two ago. Everything was bigger. And everything was in working order, judging from the wealth of sticky cum that coated his muscled body. “You need another shower, dude,” he advised. “But you might want to refrain from pushing that magical butt button of yours.” Tim was teasing Barry, knowing full well that there was no magic button, and it was Tim’s own growing and unwieldy powers that were slowly turning his roommate into a bulky bodybuilder. “You get any bigger, you’re not going to fit through the doorway.” “Look who’s talking, Mr. Incredible Hulk.” “Yeah, but I’m fully adjustable, remember?” He was already shrinking in size, reducing his impossibly muscular body to one that was on the verge of believable beauty. “You don’t have that advantage.” “That is just too fucking weird.” “Your face is too fucking weird.” “That’s a stupid comeback.” “Your face is a stupid comeback.” “Shut the fuck up,” Barry said. But he was laughing at the same time. “Jesus dude, how do you do that?” “Do what?” “You, like, just did the fucking splits and threw your feet over your head like that.” “I’m very talented,” he replied. “You’d be surprised at what I can do if given a chance—or an opening.” “Would I, now?” Barry’s eyebrows wiggled. “Your face would... never mind.” Barry licked his lips. He could still taste his ass on them. Sweet and earthy. “Does... does it always taste like that?” Tim asked, “Does what always taste like what?” “Ass,” he answered. “There’s a simple way to find out, but you were all ‘no, stop, put your ass away,’ so..” He shrugged, smiling lasciviously. “Your tongue never slipped south when you were going down on Stacy?” Barry shook his head. “Gross, dude.” “Yeah, but now that you know....” “She’d freak.” “How do you know?” “Anyone would freak.” “Would you freak if she made the offer?” “To what? Lick my ass?” “Rim you. Yeah.” “I’m... not sure.” “Still?” His eyebrow rose. “Meaning that since I’m not opposed to fingering my own hole, I’m automatically not opposed to someone else doing it?” Tim shrugged. “Just seems logical.” “It’s one thing for me to start playing around down there, but it’s a whole ‘nother thing to have someone else... you know.” He licked his lips. “How do you know until you try?” “No, dude.” “No, what?” “No way you’re gonna lick my hole.” “Did I offer?” “I know where this ends up.” “Ha. ‘Ends up.’ You made a funny.” “I’m not joking dude.” Tim shrugged. he was still absently rubbing his own warm, moist hole with his finger, up and down, below his foot-high hard-on. “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t want to find out what it feels like to have someone’s tongue bathing your butt hole in sweet, warm wetness and pushing inside, licking your rim, sending you into shivering spasms of ecstatic bliss, who am I to judge you?” “I suppose you’re an expert.” He glanced at Barry’s ass. “Let’s just say I’ve had plenty of practice.” “I bet you have.” “You’d win that bet.” He smiled and tilted his head. “If you expect me to be ashamed of enjoying giving someone else pleasure by rimming their butt hole—not to mention enjoying the sensation of doing it—you’re going to be disappointed.” He sat up a little, and again moved the finger from his ass to his nostrils, pulling in a long whiff of ass. “Fuck, dude, if you’re ignoring your ass, you’re giving up on half the fun. And I am a serious ass aficionado.” Barry felt his hole tingle and throb. “You’re serious.” “As a heart attack, dude.” He sat up, causing his cock to flail and bob against his perfect six-pack abs, painting a swath of sticky precum on his tanned flesh. “Offer’s on the table. Ready willing and able to do it for you. Anxious, even.” “Fuck, dude.” “Not quite that far,” he said, and thought, ‘at least, not yet,’ “but it might feel like it. I have a... fairly talented tongue.” “I’m not sure we want to go there.” “That’s fair.” He sat there, looking all kinds of perfect. “But I can go there, no problem.” “Seriously, dude?” “Seriously, dude.” It was a tempting and exciting offer. Barry really was curious about it. And the idea that they could do it and no one would know about it but them was.... “Okay,” he said. “Really?” “Just, y’know, to see what it’s like.” Tim smiled. “Of course.” “How do I...?” “As long as I get access, it’s all good. How do you want to do it?” “What are my options?” “Do you want to watch me do it, or do you want me to come in from behind?” “So... like....?”
 “So, like you’re either on all fours and I pry you open and dig in, or you lay back and open wide and watch me dive in.” He narrowed his eyes. “I kinda like it when the other guy watches. I like seeing the expressions on his face when I’m eating him out. Helps me know when I’m hitting the sweet spot.” “The sweet spot?” “Don’t worry, I’ll find it.” He stood up, towering over Barry, and looked down at him. “And if my mouth kinda...explores...I assume that’ll be okay with you?” “Explores?” “Taint. Balls. Lick the crack. Possibly I could slip a bit north and kiss your dick. I assume you’d deal with that if it happened.” He licked his lips again, eyeing the wealth of manly equipment just waiting for his lips, tongue and teeth to explore. “Well?” “Um, I guess...” He scooted his butt forward and lay on his back, bending his knees slightly. “Oh, no, no, no, dude. There’s no halfway here. It’s either the whole enchilada or nothing. The Timebomb doesn’t do anything halfway.” Barry’s brow furrowed. “Open wide... and say ‘ahhhhhh yeah.’” • • • • Chuck flew. He liked flying. It was peaceful and allowed him to think about things and be completely alone for a while—which was not something he regularly sought, being a man who liked people and liked being around and with and fucking them. Night flying was even better, because it allowed him to assume his uncompressed, unfettered, unnaturally immense and uncommonly beautiful physical self, hidden by darkness and without the need to disguise his true nature to blend in with anyone else’s preconceptions. As his powerful legs thrust him into the night, his body expanding in every direction, growing wider by the foot and taller by the yard. His muscles seemed to bloom and unfold along his limbs, inflating to full glory, and once again two mighty cocks hung between his gargantuan thighs, the surest symbol that he was no longer merely human. A god flew in the sky, more beautiful by far than any man had a right to be, more powerful than any man had ever dreamed of being, and hornier than any thousand men put together. He was truman, and that meant so much more than any non-truman could conceive of. He had been truman for so long, now, that it was getting hard to remember what being human had been like. But being amongst them, and especially being with Jeremy and all his fears and curiously quaint ideas about sex and power and what it meant to be a man. Chuck twisted in the winds and swooped and dived like a fish in his native waters. The currents and funnels and walls of thick wind that he used to maneuver his incredibly flexible and powerful body higher and higher into the sky appeared to his enhanced senses, and he swam through them and pushed against them and felt them caress his naked skin. He wished that Frazz was with him, so that they could fly-fuck as they had done so often. There was simply nothing like it, the sensation of falling and flying and fucking all at the same time, the utter freedom and intense eroticism of the act knew no equal. The small town’s lights shrunk to pinpoints and sparkled like tiny diamonds before he was surrounded by clouds thick with snow. It clung to him and melted instantly, and his flesh tingled as if being licked by thousands of tiny tongues. The ice turned to warm water on his skin, and he was soon glistening and slick with it, making him look as if he were made of copper. Flying gave him time to consider what he intended to do. Typically for Chuck, nothing was planned and everything was possible. Was telling Jeremy prudent? Maybe not. Should he just go into Tim’s room and reveal himself with a grand ‘ta-da!’ moment? Possibly, but where was the fun in that? Besides, you know, the usual naked fun that they would no doubt start to have. Mmm, naked fun. The thought made Chuck’s bountiful loins tingle and throb. Naked fun was a great idea. He was certainly in need of it. Hell, maybe his self-imposed exile from his comrade trumans was half the reason that whatever Tim had done had effected him at all. He was severely horned up. Like, dangerously so. Sure, he could keep the lock on his libido, he had absolute control over every aspect of his physical form, including the drives that might otherwise overwhelm him. But there were always emotions and desires that came into play. Brain chemistry and dopamine levels were one thing, but when his imagination started acting up (as it so often did) and he was mentally undressing some dude just walking down the street, imagining what his ass would look like outside of those jeans, and what his hole would taste like as he stroked his hard-on and licked his butt and wrapped him up in his heavily-muscled arms.... well, that was the kind of thing that was hard to ignore. Chuck sucked in a cold draught of winter sky, cooling his libido as well as his body—even though both of them always ran hot. Being a truman was most challenging when there were no other trumans around. And that made him think about the brotherhood, and his lovers and companions and friends. Thousands of them, all over the globe. And the burden they each had to bare. “Bare,” he said softly. Naked. Skin. Flesh. Hair. Muscle. Cock. Suck. Lick. Fuck. “Steady on, Chuck,” he advised himself. He twisted left and under a thick column of air, catching hold of it and launching against the heavy winds, pushing himself higher. Part 9 The campus was dark and deserted. Snow was falling steadily, now, and an odd silence blanketed everything along with the flakes. The buildings were mostly dark, and the trees were mostly bare. Even the dorms looked evacuated, with not a single light in a single window lit from this side. Jeremy opened the door and dashed up the stairs two at a time. His room was on the third floor, dorm 318, the last room at the west end on the north side of the building. nearest the shower and farthest from the stairs. He wasn’t paying attention to anything else except his ultimate destination, and his roommate waiting there. He ran along the third floor hallway and didn’t notice anything odd, though the door on the same side as his own, the one nearest the stairs, the one where Tim and Barry camped out, was slightly open and there were sounds of movement and low noises, moaning or something, coming from within. But blood was beating hard in his ears and he was making too much noise himself to pay attention to anything except the door to his own room at the far end of the hallway. He paused at the closed door to room 318. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling, his brow sweaty, and his whole body hot and wet. He licked his lips, pulled in a calming breath and took hold of the cold metal handle, opening the door to his dorm room. Charles was standing at the open window. He was naked, of course—his natural state. The room was still dark, but even in silhouette the guy’s broad back and narrow waist were absurdly tapered. Mountains were piled on his shoulders. And his scent—that smell of Charles—was everywhere. As Jeremy’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, the swell and beauty of the two muscular globes of Charles’s amazing and inhumanly powerful butt became clear. He had an incredible ass, there were no two ways about it. Just... incredible. Like a person could dive in there between the two perfect mounds and get lost inside for days. And Charles needed that ass to carry around the masses of muscle that packed his wide, flaring back. He simply stood there in the darkness, like a statue of a perfect god, the god of sex and power and beauty. Muscle bulged from every millimeter of his tall, wide, thick form, and the mounds and indentations were mind-blowing. “So. How much do you know?” His voice was soft, but deep and powerful. “Know?” Jeremy asked. “About trumans.” Charles didn’t turn around as he spoke. Jeremy could see a slight reflection of his face in the window, but it looks slightly odd, or different. It was hard to say how. “About me.” “I guess... I guess just the usual stuff. You were there, and then you weren’t. Pictures, videos, magazines, you were everywhere. You did that TV thing where that guy was naked for a second. Really big deal about that, and then the gyms were opening up, and...” “And then we were gone,” Charles said. “How much do you want to know?” “I guess... I guess that depends.” “Always a safe answer,” Charles said. Jeremy watched the reflection of the man’s face in the dark window. It looked older, there, but also more handsome. As if Charles’s face had lost something, some sort of soft mask, and now Jeremy could see what he really looked like. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Jeremy, because I’m going to ask you for something in return. You can say no, of course, but I hope that after you hear the story, maybe...” He sighed. “Anyway,” he said, as a kind of universal preamble. Then he turned around. Then Jeremy spontaneously creamed his jeans. Charles was perfect. There was no other more perfect word to describe him. Absolute masculine perfection. From his noble, regal, brow to his broad, large feet, the man standing before Jeremy in his dorm room was absolute male beauty made flesh. His face made an ache start to flame in Jeremy’s chest. He had the chiseled features of a movie star, or a model, or a porn actor. Or all three. Jeremy thought that if the lights came on right now, exposing the man before him in unshadowed glory, he would faint dead away. Those green eyes, clear and intense, sparkled like emeralds. His teeth were white and perfect. He had a broad, manly nose and his strong, angled chin and jaw were shadowed with whiskers in perfect decoration of masculinity. His body was beyond incredible. Simply breathtaking. Massive bulges of muscles covered his tall frame, but they were all—each—in perfect proportion to each other. He could see every single muscle group on the man’s body, and every single muscle of every single group. His skin, dark and ruddy, shone like silk in the soft light, rippling over the expanses of brawn as if painted on. Fuck, he was beautiful. Beyond handsome. Beyond sexy. Just... perfect. “My friends call me Chuck,” he said. Jeremy swallowed and his mouth fell open. He could find no words at all inside his head. Nothing came to his tongue. He was spellbound and dumbfounded by the sheer perfection on display before him. Chuck said, “Close the door.” Jeremy reached behind him and did so. “Turn on the light.” “I’m afraid,” Jeremy said. Chuck seemed to find the reaction surprising and amusing. “Of what?” “I...” “You came in your shorts.” His voice was deep and rich and powerful. It resonated in Jeremy’s balls, tugging at them, and sent tingles along his cock. “I suppose it would be immodest to say that I have that effect on others. So I’m not surprised.” He smiled again, and Jeremy wanted to cum again. “You want to get changed?” Jeremy nodded. “Ok. Do you want me to turn around?” Jeremy nodded again. Chuck turned around. “Should I keep talking while you clean up?” “I... guess... so.” “I hope you’ll excuse me for doing that,” he said as he pivoted to face the window again. “I’d tell you that I don’t mean to do it, but that would be a lie. I love doing that. I love that I made you cum. I don’t mean that I love that I embarrassed you, but I love when a man cums. I love making a man cum. No matter how I do it. And I know a lot of ways to do it—but just turning around? That’s kind of a special gratification, so I want to thank you for that, Jeremy.” “Um, you’re welcome?” He was opening a drawer and pulling out a fresh pair of underwear. He glanced toward the window and saw Chuck’s green gaze on him. “You’re watching me.” Chuck laughed slightly and shrugged. “Can’t help myself. I love watching beautiful men getting naked.” “I’m not....” “Stop right there before you say something stupid. When I pay a compliment, I’m not being nice and I’m not lying. You’re a beautiful man.” Jeremy still didn’t believe it, but all he said was, “Could you, like, close your eyes or something?” “Still embarrassed?” “Intimidated might be a better word.” “Oh. Right. I forget that part.” Jeremy supposed that Chuck was never intimidated. What the hell would he ever be intimidated by? “Okay, eyes closed,” he said. Jeremy checked, and Chuck’s green orbs were hidden behind thick-lashed eyelids. He was still smiling, though. “Should I start?” “Start what?” “Telling you about me? About us? And why I need your help?” “I guess so,” Jeremy answered, dubiously. What the hell could Jeremy offer anyone that powerful? “I’ll start with the basics, then.” He paused, and Jeremy heard him inhale through his nostrils. “Damn, you smell nice.” Jeremy felt a chill run up his spine. He’d just stripped himself naked from the waist down. His soggy, cream-filled shorts were discarded on the floor. He could only smell Chuck’s intense and erotic scent in the room. “Thanks?” “Don’t mention it,” Chuck replied. “Can I open my eyes?” “Almost.” Jeremy pulled on his fresh underwear and tugged his jeans up his legs. “Okay,” he reported. Chuck opened his eyes. “I’m going to turn around now.” “That’s... fine.” “Just thought I’d warn you,” he said. Then he held up his arms and added, “Kidding! I’m just kidding.” He turned around and Jeremy was surprised that he had to remember to breathe all over again. The man was just... too beautiful. “Better?” “Cleaner,” he answered. “So... not better.” He laughed. “I’m not usually this filthy-minded,” he lied. Not that Jeremy believed him, anyway. “You were saying?” “About us,” Chuck said, nodding. “Well, the government—that’s our government, the good ol’ US of A—had decided that they wanted a... what? Tribe? Of super soldiers.” “Like Captain America?” His eyes narrowed and he nodded slightly. “Very much like Captain America. So they assigned two scientists to the task, and they... do you know this part already?” “No. No one ever said where the trumen originated.” “Cool.” He leaned back against the window sill, setting his perfect butt against it and folding his arms over his chest, gesturing with one hand now and again as he spoke. He was mostly in shadow, helping Jeremy cope with the man’s superhuman beauty, but just watching all his muscles moving was an exercise in sensuality and masculine power. “These two smart guys—Carlos and Jerry, by name—set about breaking down the genome of the human body, mapping all its extents and connections, what did what, what affected what, all that shit, and they came up with a little syringe of something magic they called Transform. “Now, what was in there, I can’t tell you. Enzymes and shit. Some sort of enhancements and DNA doohickeys and who the fuck knows what, but the end result was that they shot it into a civilian volunteer who happened to be my next-door neighbor and about twelve hours later, all hell started breaking loose. “What they didn’t know was that they had managed to unleash a kind of monster. A monster that fed on power and growth and muscle. And another thing they didn’t know—because no one had ever done this before, so how could they—was that there were men in the world who acted like triggers, and when they were exposed to this shit, super weirdness started happening.” “Super weirdness?” “LIke... like tremendous growth. Insane muscular development. Everything they planned on happening, only much more accelerated than anyone anticipated. Like, insanely quick development, and then just insane shit like physical morphing, super flexibility, super strength. Insane super weird-ass shit.” “Oh.” Chuck shrugged his mountain ranges. “The long and the short of it is, Transform got into the essential genetic structure of whomever it infected. Though I think ‘infected’ is probably technically incorrect, it works. It acted like a viral agent, swarming the body and the genes and cells and DNA of whomever it entered and altering them utterly and forever. Once inside you, there was no going back. “Looking at me, you could say that there seems like there was no downside, right? I mean, I’m a passingly good looking guy.” “Just barely passingly,” Jeremy agreed, glancing at his cum-sodden shorts. “But the side effects, initially, included unhinged growth and muscular development—which is probably fine for a super soldier but not quite a boon for average Joe Six-pack living in a small apartment in Nowheresville. And I have to admit that my own transformation wasn’t my idea at all. It just sort of... happened.” “How does something like that just sort of happen? Couldn’t you say ‘no thank you, I don’t want the needle in my butt?’” “Oh, see, I forgot an important development. After Transform was introduced into Todd’s body—Todd was my neighbor—it mutated. Again, these two scientist guys were smart, but they didn’t exactly know what they were doing, what all the ramifications were going to be. Because... so... um... okay, so one of the things they decided to alter on purpose was sexuality.” “Why?” “Couple of reasons. One was that the super soldiers would all be male. I guess that makes a kind of sense—males are more disposed to muscular development and size, after all. That in itself wasn’t as important as the type of operations these soldiers would be asked to perform. Often, they’d be on their own, in situations where having weapons would be difficult and where they would need to rely solely on themselves and their comrades. Being attractive would help because psychologically, people are more open with attractive people, more willing to be, like, sharing things like secrets and where that atomic bomb is—shit like that.” “Sure,” Jeremy agreed, his head swimming. “These operations could last for weeks or months in isolation, and it turns out one of the... difficulties about that is that guys get horny. Really horny. Especially guys with over-developed growth patterns and highly active testosterone. And when guys get horny, they get stupid, and mistakes get made, and things fall apart.” “So....” “So, someone said, ‘why not make them gay? Then they can use each other to... relieve these drives and get on with the important shit.’” “Someone said that.” “I’m paraphrasing.” “Oh.” “Right. So, it turns you gay.” “So, you weren’t gay before...?” “Wasn’t.” He shrugged. “Anyway....” “And, you were okay with that?” He considered the question for only a moment. “There were too many benefits to worry about it, I guess. Frankly, there was a lot of shit going down in the first few hours and days after I was transformed. Things got out of hand pretty fucking fast, because another part of this change is that when you change someone else...” “With a needle?” “Oh, right. No, the change is through anything from my body. I can make another man into a truman, now, just by breathing on him. But not unless I want to, and not unless he wants me to. Like I said, things got out of hand quickly. Todd and me, we were making new transformed men faster than you can say ‘fuck me, Freddy!’ And it seemed like with every new member of our little tribe, we were gaining more power, more size and new abilities.” “Like flying.” “Like flying. Only we don’t really fly. It’s more like air-swimming, I guess. And then we discovered that we had total—and I mean absolute total—control of our physical forms, and every manifestation of them.” “So, not just how you look?” “How I everything. That’s how I can or can’t transform someone else. I can—I can place transform into the transforming agent at will. Whether that’s sweat or spit or pheromone or cum, I can take aim at someone and only transform them.” “Or not.” “Or not. But at the beginning, there was no ‘or not.’ We were too fucking horned up on power to stop ourselves. Plus, it seemed like every other day, something new happened and we kept getting bigger, stronger... like I said. I mean, imagine that feeling. Kissing a guy, watching him sprout muscles, grow more handsome, shoot up by the foot, grow another dick, and then all he wants is to be with you, fuck you, kiss you, suck you. It was a never-ending orgy of muscle and sex and love and beauty. It was kind of an addiction, and it just never stopped.” “But then it did.” He nodded. “The government was... unhappy with these developments. Their super soldiers turned out to be nothing but super muscle sluts. I mean, we could not get enough. Insatiable only hints at our sex drive, and then pile on the fact that we can go non-stop, and keep getting stronger, and bigger, and everything else. They wanted their toys back, and they wanted to stop what was happening.” “Why?” “I haven’t emphasized the whole growth thing enough, apparently. Jeremy, I’m fucking huge. Like, motherfucking huge. You think I’m intimidating like this? Try me at three stories tall.” “And flying.” “And then spraying my never-ending supply of transforming cum out my double-barreled cum cannon and..” “I get the idea,” Jeremy answered. “They were scared.” “In a word, shitless. We had them rightly shaking in their boots, and they also realized what they’d done wrong and they wanted to correct it.” “What did they do?” “As you would expect, Transform wasn’t the only weapon in their arsenal. Not to mention that other governments were doing the same thing. The Russians. The Chinese. Probably right now there’s some lab somewhere cooking up another strain of some formula designed to perfect the human male into the perfect fighting machine in order to destroy someone else’s perfect fighting machine. “So in order to protect ourselves—just to fucking survive—we went on the offensive. We brought the fight home. Over and over. Infiltrating, investigating, and trying to stop them from doing it again, and from destroying what we had become, and from trying to do it right this time. Because if there is one thing we are not, that’s an unstoppable army.” “Wait, what?” “I told you about our libido. Well, that’s what we do with all that pent-up masculine energy. All that testosterone and male hormonal juice constantly pumping through our veins? We don’t fight. We can’t. We can only fuck. And that’s what they never seem to understand. We don’t want to make war, we want to make love. Literally.” “The reason you’re so horned up and made so many others is because....” “Because that’s all we can do. We can’t fight. Oh, it’s not that we have no survival instinct or don’t know how. I’ve seen some of my brothers rip open walls and toss helicopters from the sky and deflect fucking missiles.” “Deflect missiles?” “Oh, yeah. We’re kind of... indestructible.” “Indestruct....” He shrugged. “Far as we know. Nothing can hurt us. The muscle is super dense. The skin is super elastic. We heal almost immediately, regenerating skin or organs or whatever we need. I mean, we were built this way. It’s what we are.” “Instead of the X-Men, you’re the Sex-Men.” Chuck smiled and Jeremy melted. “Someone actually suggested we call ourselves that, but ‘truman’ finally won out.” “For ‘transformed human,’” Jeremy said. Chuck nodded. “Things were like that for a while. Seems like we went from one bad situation to another, even as our numbers swelled almost as large as our cocks.” His face grew serious and he said, “But now we really are in trouble, and this time it’s our own fault.” • • • • If Barry could think straight, he’d most likely be thinking, “Holy fuck, this feels good.” Fortunately, he was too far gone into the throes of utter sexual bliss because he had an ass aficionado going down on his hole so fully and so eagerly and so joyously that all he could think of was, “Holy fuck, oh God, oh Christ, holy fucking hell, fuck, fuck, fuck.” In fact, that was what he was managing to enunciate, as well, which only drove Tim to dive deeper into his ass. It felt like a dozen mouths were on his nether regions. How could one man possibly be doing so much to everything down there? His ass felt amazing. His balls tingled and throbbed when they weren’t being tugged and sucked. His cock was licked and kissed and stroked and soaked in spit, warm and wet and slick, and strong hands squeezed and teased and stroked him for all he was worth. Holy fuck, this felt good. Better than fucking good. He moaned. It was a deep and satisfying noise. His sphincter tightened and he felt wet fingers pushing into him and then something slick and slippery and a tongue was inside him and he opened up and gasped and rolled his eyes into his head. Fuck, he wanted to cum. He wanted to cum very badly. Everything felt so fucking good. Why had he ever had second thoughts about this? What the hell was he scared of? Tim was fucking amazing! And Tim—he was in heaven. At first, Barry hadn’t seemed into it. He was clenched and uptight and wouldn’t even look at him. Tim kept glancing up to see how he was doing, and whether Barry was having as much fun as he was, but the dude’s face was all grimaced and pinched and it looked like he was in pain. So Tim brought out the big guns early and fucking went to town on his ass, and his taint, and his ball sack. He lubed it all up and kept it all hot and wet and hard. He stretched his hands along Barry’s legs, all the way out, feeling the other man’s muscle as he went, and then he grasped his ankles and fucking opened him up. There he was. His beautiful tight little hole. Surrounded in soft curls and slightly damp with sweat and cum. He smelled delicious and it made Tim’s cock instantly hard, almost painfully so. He licked at it and kissed it and smelled its funk and tasted its earthy tang. He pushed Barry’s legs open and opened his hole, pushing his tongue inside and rimming the fuck out of his roommate. Suddenly it was all hands on deck and Barry was open to anything. It was almost laughable how easily his walls were broached once he felt how good it was going to be with Tim in the driver’s seat and all that ass and cock and balls at his disposal. He was going to give Barry the ride of his fucking life. And he knew how to do it. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Barry moaned, as Tim did something particularly pleasing with his lips and tongue. Tim stroked Barry’s hard-on and then surrounded the swollen head in wet heat, bathing his dick in spit and sucking against his slit. Barry felt a surge of cum and, as if feeling it too, Tim squeezed his shaft hard and pushed it back. “I’m not done yet,” he growled. Then his mouth was back in action, sucking on Barry’s balls and rubbing his chin against Barry’s smooth taint. “Stop,” Barry said. “I’m gonna fucking pop.” “Not yet,” Tim said again. “Almost there.” “Gotta fucking cum.” “I know you do, buddy. I know you do.” “Fuck,” he moaned. Tim stroked Barry’s long, hard dick with a slow, steady hand. “But hold on, okay?” “Can’t.” “Hold on, because it’s about to get a lot better.” “Fuck, dude, I can’t.” Tim stood up. His dick was steel hard and leaking a stream of honey. It drained along his veiny shaft and gathered on his huge balls. “Can I fuck you?” he asked. Barry looked down at Tim’s hugeness. “Fuck, dude.” “I promise it’s gonna feel amazing.” “Dude, I... I dunno...” “Man, I gotta. I gotta fuck you. You have an amazing ass. I want... I gotta be inside.” “I’m not....” “It’s gonna feel amazing,” Tim promised, kissing the hot tip of his meaty poker against Barry’s pucker, wrapping his grip around his shaft and squeezing against its hardness. “You’re wet and hot and ready, Barry. I promise, it’s going to feel amazing.” • • • • “Something else happened about, oh, I guess a year or so ago.” “Before you disappeared.” “Well, I didn’t disappear, obviously, because here I am. But, yeah. It happened before we appeared, too, before the TV special and the videos and magazines and porn. This happened the last time they tried to stop us. Some asshole was put in charge, and let me tell you this guy was a real peach. Had a whole busload of high schoolers killed. Had a few of us put into prisons. Had his own men situated in a booby-trapped underground building that would kill everyone inside if we started anything.” “Not really,” Jeremy said, doubtfully. Chuck crossed his heart with his finger, scribing an X across the thick meat of his massive chest. “If I’m lying I’m dying.” He sighed. “Anyway, one of his guys, this other scientist, he was kind of giving himself injections on the side—sampling his own goods, as it were. They were trying it again, some new formula, slower acting, trying to keep things contained, but then we come along and fuck it all up.” “What happened?” “Backfired, as usual. Whatever it was they made, it wasn’t good. The guy started swelling into this kind of mutated Frankenstein’s monster, with bulging muscle everywhere and he was just a mess, really. Not all pretty like us. So, anyway, it ends up—okay, this part gets weird.” “This part?” “I’m just preparing you, no need to get rude.” But Chuck laughed anyway, at the absurdity of it all. “Sorry.” “So, this dude is all swollen and rampaging and the whole building is coming down around us and...” “The whole building?” “Booby traps. Yeah, big fucking mess. Anyway, along comes this other dude, young guy, probably younger than you, and he goes up to the blubbery mess of muscle and they kind of... melt... together.” “Melt?” “Sorry. Again, I don’t know the hows and whys, I can only report the whats. These two guys somehow combined themselves into one guy. So that transform transformed the other guy, but in the process it also swallowed whatever the other guy’s stuff was trying to do. And the result of all that was that suddenly, this guy could literally walk through walls.” “Bullshit.” “I know! It’s total bullshit! But there it was, and there he was, and there’s the building threatening to crush everyone, so this new guy just sort of scoops everyone up and the power of transform takes over again and suddenly everyone’s doing it.” “Doing what?” He sighed, as if preparing for a long argument. “Controlling their very atomic structure. Not just cellular or genetic, now, but down to the atoms. To the very essence of what we’re all made of!” “No.” “Yes.” “No way.” “Yes way.” “That’s impossible.” “Said the young man talking to the flying dude.” He smiled. “I can show you if you like, though you won’t actually see anything.” He straightened, lifting himself off the window sill and stood to his full height. His body seemed to stretch to fill the space, though Jeremy assumed that was just an illusion of shadow. “You might want to turn on the lights, now. That will make it a bit easier to see—or, I guess, not see.” Jeremy wasn’t sure what that meant. “Okay,” he said, turning to flip the switch on the wall. The darkness was washed away by the overhead light, and when he turned back, Jeremy again experienced the overwhelming sensation that the floor was dropping away and the air was being sucked from his lungs and there was a fire in the room with him and all he wanted to do was cream his pants very completely. He wasn’t fully prepared for Chuck. Maybe there was no way anyone could be. The man was simply overwhelmingly beautiful. He was just standing there, looking back at his roommate, arms at his sides, legs shoulder-width apart, head upright, shoulders back, chest out. He had a military bearing, but looked more like the most gorgeous and muscle-bound porn star in the world. His hair was a shock of blue-black locks not so much arranged on his head as sprouting in an unorderly fashion, making him look like he’d just crawled from the bed where he’d left his partner worn-out from sex. His eyes sparkled with jewel-like tones and his skin, everywhere, had a silken sheen as if he had been polished. Thick, soft, dark fur coated his massive chest, forearms, legs and ran through the deep crevasses around his eight-pack. A forest of dark curls crowned his thick and lengthy cock, that dangled easily a foot long between his tree-trunk legs. Jeremy caught his breath and released a shuddering exhale as he tried to adjust to the reality of the most perfect and beautiful man in the world standing four feet away, completely and unashamedly naked. He had thought that a truman would look like some kind of cross between a bodybuilder and the Michelin Man, someone so overwhelmed with muscle that he was little more than a pumped-up balloon animal with huge fat bulges everywhere, but Chuck was more—and less—than that. His physical form—his body, his face, his muscles, his fur, his cock and balls, his skin, his arms and legs and hands and feet—everything was perfect. He was almost too beautiful to look at. “Wow,” he said, softly. Chuck grinned. “Still?” He looked down at himself and shrugged. “Thanks, Jeremy. I sometimes forget.” “Forget what?” “Everything.” He brought his hands up and clapped them together, rubbing his palms as if preparing for a magic trick. It made the muscles all along both arms bulge and jump, illustrating that no matter how big he looked, there was still more muscle on reserve ready to plump into power. “Okay, so, are you ready?” “I guess so,” he answered, unsure of what he was supposed to be ready for. Chuck was just standing there. Then he became unfocused. That was the word that jumped into Jeremy’s head. Everything around him seemed to come into sharper focus, because his form was shifting, growing indistinct, and then transparent. It was like he was made of water and he was slowly evaporating. It happened quickly. Chuck grew more indistinct, more transparent, things behind him became clear and then... he was no longer there. He had simply vanished. “Charles?” Jeremy was startled and little bit scared. “Charles?” He stepped forward and waved his hand through the space where his roommate had been. “Chuck?” he repeated. Then the air started to waver like a heat haze, and that unique and tantalizing scent started to sting his nostrils, and he could start to see something forming, some ghostlike presence, where he had been waving his hand. A face, and a body, pale and soft but coalescing and becoming more distinct. He was watching Chuck rematerialize. He came from nowhere into here, his beautiful body seeming to gather itself together and regain focus and form and after a few seconds, he was there again, as solid and handsome and perfect as ever. Jeremy was now standing very close to him. He could feel the heat of the other man’s body grow in intensity as he regained his physical form. Chuck looked at Jeremy and shrugged. “Presto,” he said. “The vanishing act is complete.” “Where... how...?” “I didn’t go anywhere, but I sort of went everywhere. Basic physics, really. We’re all made up of the same stuff. Everything is. It’s simply a matter of arranging it. But what I can do is rearrange it, or unarrange it. Break it down to its basic components. Become vapor and then air and then,” he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, “poof! I’m gone.” “But... gone where?” “That, my friend, is the problem.” “The problem?” “Not everyone comes back.” • • • • Barry squirmed. He gasped and moaned. His cock hurt and wanted to pop. His balls were filled and swollen. But he could not cum. He couldn’t. Until Tim said he could. The huge, naked man pushed the end of his monster against Barry’s tight, wet hole, positioning himself for his first honest fuck in many moons. His body was practically shaking with demand. His muscles were pushing out as if his entire form were a giant dick inflating to erection. Sweat coated his skin, and his eyes flashed with feral need. “Fuck, Barry, you’re burning hot.” It was no lie. Barry’s body was overheated with desire. Tim was releasing a steady fog of his funky pheromones and pumping thick sex vibes into the room. Nobody could withstand him, and especially nobody with his legs in the air and Tim’s cock poised for entry. Barry gasped. “Gotta….” Tim closed his eyes, shifted his hips and pushed inside. Barry felt a sudden flood of perfect sexual bliss. It entered him and exploded outward and suffused his body and his bones and his brain. He was drowning in a deep ocean of sex, floating in a sky of sex, buried beneath a mountain of perfect, absolute, uncompromising, masterful sex. Tim could no longer control himself, and the bomb went off. An explosion of intense transforming power radiated outward from him, centered entirely on the target of his cock and filling the man with absolute masculine power. Barry started to grow and grew so quickly that anyone watching would not have seen the changes manifesting. He was the old, impressive Barry one moment, and in the next he was...something else. Something huge, and powerful, and swollen with muscle. Barry came, a fat rope that shot so hard it impacted the wall behind him and shot clean through it. He came again, a fat load of cream that splattered all over his new body and was quickly absorbed. And he got bigger. And bigger. Tim fucked him hard and deep and pushed a flood of hot cream inside his body and watched Barry becoming a new man, a better man, a bigger man, whose body was powerful enough to crush a building to dust and whose cock could poke a hole in steel and whose face would cause an observer to go batshit insane with desire. Tim smiled as he transformed his roommate into the newest member of a very exclusive club, and he watched Barry continue to grow as he flooded his body with magic. Part 10 The Timebomb went off, and in a very big way. Jeremy came again, instantly, struck by Tim’s radiating sexual explosion. He did not have time to wonder how his balls could even produce more cum, or how his cock had inflated so hard and so quickly, growing painfully erect in the space between one heartbeat and the next and pushing a thick volley of hot cream into his pants again. He doubled over and stifled a shout of perfect overpowering bliss as his small, ordinary body was struck by the radiating power of the silent and invisible explosion of absolute sexual dominance. It washed over him in its passage, like ripples on an ocean, and his body began to slowly swell. He had been close to the detonations before, but this time its strength and speed was overwhelming. He was breathing hard and fast, and the sensation of growth felt a bit as if he were being inflated. He felt it in his arms first, as his biceps and triceps grew, pushing against the seams of his shirt until they began to split. His back rippled and bulged. His thighs were expanding with raw brawn. His calves bloomed with power. His whole body began to grow slightly taller, making his bones creak and snap and his teeth to grate inside his head. Chuck was not wholly immune to the radiating power of the young man’s mighty storm of masculine energy, amplified and supplemented by the version of Transform that had been evolving along a different thread than his own super-strong strain. He felt Tim’s sudden release wash over his body and try very hard to enter him and pump him fuller with muscle. He sucked in a small breath at the sheer potency of the young man’s power, feeling his cocks inflating to erection and sensing a swelling erotic tide building inside him that was not of his own making. “Shit,” he whispered softly. Then he looked down at Jeremy huddled on the floor and watched his body swelling with muscle. Jeremy was still breathing hard, sucking in air to cool his overheated body. His clothes were splitting like a butterfly’s cocoon, rending at the seams or ripping open where there were no seams. He had been a small boy to begin with and it was difficult to tell what final impact Tim’s magic powers were having as he remained bent over with one hand on the floor steadying him. As quickly as it began, it was over. Jeremy’s harsh breathing was the only sound in the room. He could feel his newly developed chest pressing against his shirt, the buttons straining against his hard body to hold the meat inside. “What the fuck did you do?” he asked, looking up at the inhumanly beautiful naked man standing in his room. Chuck raised a dark eyebrow, glanced toward where Tim was now watching Barry grow into his own overwhelming muscle beast, and answered, “I’m afraid we may need to accelerate the plan.” Jeremy struggled to his feet, his crotch sodden and his small body suddenly less small than before. He had changed dramatically in a matter of seconds. His face had matured, his body had taken on the well-defined and thickly muscled semblance of an Abercrombie model and his clothes were in tatters. Chuck found himself even more strongly drawn to him. “Wha...what plan?” Chuck looked at Jeremy, the side of his mouth quirking into a familiar half-smile. “It’s a long story.” • • • • ONE YEAR AGO “We should not intervene,” the handsome Hispanic scientist with the muscles of a superweight bodybuilder and the cock of a highly-paid porn star said, seriously. He was standing with his back to the room (his ass was a thing to make men weep) looking out through the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the walls of the Manhattan apartment he shared with his lover and partner. That man, whom anyone looking at would have to agree was easily among the most beautiful men they had ever encountered, narrowed his gaze and started to speak, opening his full, sensuous lips and inhaling. But before he could get a word out, Carlos said it again. “We should not intervene.” Michael’s brow furrowed. “What if they…?” “I know what you’re thinking Michael,” Carlos said, turning, “but it might do more harm than good.” “Might?” another voice said. A rich, deep bass that resounded like a bear’s growl. “It ‘might’ do more harm?” Carlos nodded at Chuck. “It might.” He shrugged, shifting his dramatically mountainous shoulders and making the cascade of straight, dark hair flow off and drape down his wide back. “‘Might’ doesn’t mean ‘will,’” Chuck protested. “They are not developing along the same path as we did.” He paused. “As we do.” “We don’t know how they’re developing.” “What happened...is happening is the result of an anomaly. It wasn’t part of our natural development.” Chuck didn’t need to ask Carlos how he knew that, because they all had seen it happen, played out for them through the Transformed men’s ability to share thoughts and emotions. Sherman Tipton had witnessed the evolution, and Scott Maddox and Wolf and “Self-Suck” Robbie had seen its culmination. (See Transform: New Blood Parts 38—40) “I get that,” he admitted. “Then you should understand why it might be a good idea to….” “You said ‘might’, again.” “It is not a good idea to involve them. They have their own path to find.” “Paths sometimes intersect,” Chuck observed. “We don’t know that they’re gone,” Carlos said. “Then where are they? Where did they go?” “Perhaps they have evolved again, in that state.” “So, what, they’re all just wisps in the wind? Scattered bits of atoms floating around having a grand old time?” Carlos shrugged again. “Yeah, well, fuck that shit.” “I think,” Michael said, “that we should listen to Carlos.” “Wow, color me shocked,” Chuck said. “Carlos has years of scientific experience. Carlos has….” “Do I really need to remind you that Carlos’s years of scientific experience resulted in all of the men standing in this room with muscles out to yay and twin pricks and the ability to fly and read minds and...shall I go on?” “We all make mistakes,” Carlos admitted. “Look, I’m not calling any of us mistakes. I fucking love being me. I fucking love the things I can do, the power that’s coursing through these muscles, the ability to practically look at another guy and make him swell with the same power that I have. I’m saying these are good things.” Carlos opened his mouth, but Chuck held up his hand, “and that’s why I can’t imagine that any of our brothers would want to give all that up to exist as a cloud of atoms floating in space! I mean...is that what you believe?” “I think….” “You think Adam wanted that?” Carlos closed his mouth. Michael looked stung. Chuck knew where to push the knife in for the dearest damage. “Of all of us, Adam? Adam would want to stop being Adam? Stop loving us all as he did? Stop wanting us all to be in love as much as he loved us? Adam?” “We cannot know….” “That’s bullshit. Something happened to him. Something that stopped him from coming back.” Chuck paused, looking down, and then he put his fingertips to his temple and said, “I miss hearing him in here. I miss his voice, and his laugh, and his love.” He closed his eyes. “God damn that man could love.” “I don’t think….” Chuck looked up. “You’re going to stand there and tell me honestly that you believe that Adam didn’t want to be around anymore?” Michael sighed. “You know what it feels like,” he said. “You know.” He did. They all did. Assuming an incorporeal state was absolute freedom. It felt like heaven. Leaving all earthly ties behind and existing invisibly was what God must feel like. But then you wanted someone to touch you again. You wanted to touch someone. To hear someone’s voice. To feel—alive. “It’s not the same as this,” Chuck said, and he suddenly wrapped Michael in his arms and kissed him quite deeply, and with a passion that said they might never kiss again. The deep warmth of love swept Michael into Chuck’s passionate kiss. What, indeed, felt better than this? As their lips parted, Michael sighed and said, “You certainly know how to make a persuasive argument.” Chuck grinned. “We can’t abandon them.” Michael asked, “How many?” “At least a hundred. Probably twice that many. Not everyone keeps in touch like we do. And when Adam wasn’t...when he….” “I know,” Michael said. “I miss him, too.” “Then why…?” Carlos spoke again. “We have to wait,” he said. “What’s happening in that high school, in that town, to those young men and...boys, really. It’s something different. Something new. If we introduce ourselves into that environment, it’s likely we would overwhelm and supersede whatever is developing there.” “They’re just like us,” Chuck argued. “No,” Carlos said, “they aren’t.” Chuck tilted his head. “You’ve been watching them.” “Observation is a scientific principal,” he answered. “If we’re to learn anything at all….” “You’re going there and watching them? You’re invisible?” He nodded. “From time to time.” “And…?” “As I said, they are developing differently. In some ways, they are more limited, which is to be expected, I suppose, given the smaller sample group from which the strain is pulling in new genetic material. We had a much larger pool of human genetic samples, and we were unrestrained as we grew in number. They are existing in a relatively closed environment, involving men of the same general age, and in some cases those men are not fully matured.” “I have to admit,” Chuck said, “I fucking love it when he gets like this.” “Like this?” Carlos asked, genuinely interested. “All science talky. Keep going, you’re giving me a stiffy.” “Like that’s a challenge,” Michael said, rolling his eyes. “Shut up, Adonis,” Chuck advised him. “Keep going Carlos, I like to hear your voice.” He was stroking himself and rising to the occasion. Carlos looked down at Chuck’s majestic and beautiful cock. “Well, um, so...where was I?” Chuck grinned his half-smile. “Some shit about gene pools and not fully matured males.” “Oh. Yes. Um. Many—if not most—of the young men in the so-called Muscle Club are under seventeen years of age, which is generally considered when one leaves adolescence and puberty ceases. So the gene pool is unsettled, in a sense, and still developing.” Chuck’s cock was throbbing and drooling. “Go on. You have my undivided attention.” “In addition, their initial exposure was to a fairly undiluted version of Transform that Robbie offered on that video he created before we met him.” “Ah, yes. I still have a soft spot for that video.” Chuck looked down. “Though maybe ‘soft’ isn’t what I actually feel watching it.” “So that,” Carlos said, rather louder than intended, “coupled with the restrained genetic pool and the immature nature of the bodies involved means that Transform is mutating is pure ways that we could not anticipate.” “Mutating?” “Developing new capabilities and offering new powers, such as those we now share—but of an entirely different nature.” “Such as?” Chuck’s cock was nearing record-breaking dimensions and leaking a steady stream of honey. “It appears that branches of Transform are occurring, offering some of them, for example, a different manner of development.” “How so?” “Some are growing at a steady pace, such as we do, but others...explode with growth in a sudden, almost violent outburst. But, interestingly, this is not a shared trait.” “Which means?” Chuck closed his eyes, holding back his explosion of cream. “Which means that it is likely that they will continue to branch and develop into distinct types that will, of their own accord, develop traits and abilities we have not.” Michael was watching Chuck’s fat hard-on swell and throb. “So if we interfere…” “If we interfere, it is likely we’ll countermand those new priorities and perhaps prevent new, powerful, unforeseen capabilities from appearing.” “Oh, fuck,” Chuck said. And then his cock spewed a thick fountain of cream that shot up in a fine arc and splattered everywhere. “I love talking about getting stronger.” • • • • ONE YEAR LATER “So you see why it would be bad—potentially bad—for me to meet Tim.” “Then why…?” Jeremy was sitting on his bed wearing only a pair of underwear, having stripped himself of his too-small clothing and finding nothing else to fit his new, larger body. He looked as if he had packed on a good twenty pounds of muscle, and it was all bulging from his short frame in beautiful perfected symmetry. He had been thin before, and now he had a gymnast’s build with some serious guns on his arms and a heavy shank of sex meat in his shorts worthy of a porn star. True to the power of transform, the young man also looked like he had gained a couple of years in age as well. His almost childish face now had a very strong chin and a serious cast to its brow, and his formerly smooth chest—now replaced by two squared-off muscular hemispheres and a set of dark, lickable nipples—had the beginnings of a bird’s nest sprouting in the valley between his burgeoning pecks. All in all, Tim’s effect on Jeremy had upgraded him in the space of a few seconds from a small, shy, somewhat ordinary lad into a muscular, handsome, very sexy young man who could easily break a few hearts and cause a few boners the next time he showed up in class. He sat across from Chuck, who still looked like the fucking sexiest man who ever walked the face of the planet, facing him as the brutally beautiful man finished his tale. “I was curious,” he explained, shrugging his mountain range. “It’s part of my charm. I like people. A lot.” His tremendous cock throbbed distinctly and his eyes scanned Jeremy up and down. “I just happened to bump into Tim at one of the closed T Gyms near here.” “Just happened to?” “Why, I don’t know what you’re implying!” Chuck said with feigned shock. “Anyway, I tasted him and I discovered….” “You tasted him?” Chuck shrugged. “It’s...a thing we do. Or have. Every one of us tastes differently.” “How did you taste him without…?” “Tim had a rather...energetic reaction to the Gym.” When Jeremy’s heavier brow arched, Chuck clarified. “Tim exploded with about a gallon of cum. We also tend to leave traces of ourselves behind for others of our kind to...enjoy.” He shrugged again. “Anyway, I could taste his power, sense that he had something unique and potentially interesting. Something that needed some prodding.” “The Timebomb?” “So it turns out.” He leaned back on the bed, resting on his elbows. It thrust his huge prick forward and made his abdominal wall pop with a perfect collection of cobblestones. “And then I discovered someone else interesting. Someone with a power I had never encountered before. Someone who had something I thought was impossible.” “Who?” “You, of course.” “Me?” “You.” “What have I got?” “Something very special.” “I don’t have anything,” Jeremy protested. “Look at me! I’m just...me.” He looked down. “Well, more of me.” Chuck smiled. “Exactly.” “Exactly what?” Chuck tilted his handsome head and narrowed his eyes. “What just happened?” “What?” He nodded in the direction of room 318. “In there. With Tim and his roommate.” “Tim...went off.” Jeremy was absently rubbing his hard-on. Strong tingles of sexual bliss were erupting from it and cascading through his body. He’d never felt anything as wonderful before. “Indeed. And in a very powerful fashion.” Chuck raised an eyebrow and applied one of his certified half-grins to his lips, realizing that Jeremy was starting to discover one of the better benefits of Transform. “I’ve felt it before,” Jeremy reported. He swallowed hard. His right hand was now kneading his hard dick rather overtly. “Probably several times before,” he agreed. “And every time it happens, what happens to the guys in this building? What happens to you?” “Me?” he asked, slightly embarrassed. Realizing what he was doing, he covered his crotch with his hands. Chuck observed the movement and his smile wattage increased. “No need for embarrassment, Jeremy. Look at me, do I appear embarrassed by anything?” Jeremy swallowed hard as he looked at the huge, beautiful, perfectly-defined, hugely-muscled, overly-well-endowed superman lounging naked on the other bed. Indeed, he looked anything but embarrassed. “No.” “Okay then,” he said, looking pointedly at Jeremy’s crotch. The smaller young man slowly pulled his hand away. His newly grown prick had blossomed into another impressive hard-on tenting his boxers. A wet patch was darkening the material as he began to release what was undoubtedly a growing reserve of warm, lubricating honey from his swollen balls. “You’ll probably need to get used to that happening more often. It’s one of the more prevalent side effects.” He laughed slightly. “And yours appears to be more prevalent that most.” He smiled, then. “Thanks, by the way, Jeremy. I never get tired of seeing that happen when I’m with another guy.” “You’re...welcome? I guess?” “I could...help you with that,” Chuck said tentatively. “I mean, if you wanted some help with it.” “Help?” Chuck shrugged. “You know. Just some friendly help.” Jeremy looked down at his throbbing member. “You mean…?” Chuck nodded. “I’d be happy to suck you into heaven, Jeremy. Just, you know, to relieve the pressure.” “You want to…?” “Oh, fuck, Jeremy, I always want to. It’s not a question of me wanting to, it’s a question of you wanting me to.” He eyed the glorious and freshly developed cock still hidden under the thin layer of cotton. “So? Mother, may I?” Jeremy couldn’t think of a good reason not to allow this handsome, sexy, beautiful man to suck his cock, so he reached down, peeled open the fly on his boxers and allowed his thick, hot, slowly pulsing erection into the open. The eye was weeping a steady stream of clear, thick pre, and the thing had to be at least nine inches tall. “Help yourself,” he offered. “Don’t mind if I do, Jeremy.” And Chuck, with the obvious talent of a truly experienced cocksucker, swallowed him whole, deep throating him with an ease borne of many, many, many eager blow jobs and went to town. Jeremy was already nearly popping his load just sitting there, so when Chuck’s warm wetness surrounded him and the tingles of sex exploded into orgasmic bombs. Chuck set his hand to Jeremy’s chest, found his nipple within moments and added some truly inspiring nipple play to the mix. Then he was stroking and sucking, moaning in utter delight, and within seconds Jeremy rewarded Chuck with a truly amazing gush of thick cream which the man gulped and guzzled with deep need. Jeremy’s hands balled into fists and his eyes rolled up in their sockets and his sphincter tightened to diamond hardness from the overwhelming sexual release. He had never in his life felt anything as pure and immense and completely satisfying as that first explosion of cum delivered from his new, over-productive balls and highly sensitized cock. He nearly screamed with utter joy. Then Chuck was slowly, lovingly caressing his chest and licking up the last drops of cream, being sure to suck every drop of Jeremy’s delicious richness into his mouth. “Thank you, my friend,” Chuck growled. “I sincerely needed that.” “So…,” Jeremy gasped “so did I.” His cock was wet and shiny with Chuck’s spit, cooling in the air and slowly deflating from it’s nine-and-a-half-inch high glory. He could still feel the other man’s mouth surrounding him, feel his fingers teasing his sensitive nipples, feel the comforting warmth of his huge body against his own naked skin. Then he sat up again and looked Jeremy in the eyes. “Where were we?” “Fuck if I can remember,” Jeremy admitted. Chuck moved his muscled bulk back to the adjoining bed, looked at Jeremy’s nearly naked body with its new muscles and his new more handsome features and the monster cock with which he had been gifted and he snapped his finger. “Surely you’ve noticed something unusual about the other men in your dorm?” “No.” “Honestly?” “Honestly, no,” he lied. Chuck wrinkled his brow and scanned Jeremy’s newly grown body. “Nothing regarding their muscles?” “No.” “Or their size?” “No.” “Or the fact that they seemed to be growing increasingly handsome and appearing more masculine nearly every time you looked at them?” “I never really noticed.” Chuck glanced at Jeremy’s exposed cock again. It appeared to be regaining some of its vigor quite insistently. “Of course you didn’t.” He covered it with his hand, and it pulsed quite visibly. “Anyway, what has that got to do with…?” “You’re immune to me, Jeremy.” “Immune?” He looked down at his cock again. It was already halfway to hard. “I don’t think so.” “Your body. It doesn’t react.” “It fucking does,” he replied, thinking how he had come so hard twice already tonight, and how Chuck had made him feel. “Thanks for the compliment,” Chuck explained. “But that’s a brain thing. Not a body thing.” “A brain thing.” Chuck nodded. “But your body hasn’t changed. Not until we both experienced what our friend Tim is able to do. When our friendly neighborhood Timebomb sent out a wave of transforming energy so powerful that it nearly made me come, and believe me when I tell you that it takes a fuckload of energy to make me lose control.” “I still don’t understand.” Chuck sighed. “I can’t approach Tim. There’s that theory that a man a lot smarter than me has that says my version of the stuff that makes me look like this will take over from the stuff that makes Tim look like Tim.” His eyes drifted sideways as he thought aloud, “though given what I just experienced, I have a hard time believing that.” “Believing what?” “I need you to be my go-between. I need someone I can’t transform,” Chuck stated. “But, didn’t I just…?” “Someone I can’t transform.” “But, I just….” “Jeremy, every time you’ve had a reaction around me, that wasn’t just coincidence. I mean, I know I’m charming and irresistible, but frankly I’ve been pushing you pretty hard over the past few days and...you’re immune to me.” “You’ve been…?” Chuck nodded. “I started out slowly, just to see. I knew there was something different about you. I could...smell it.” “Like you could taste Tim?” “Sort of. I have some very strong and interesting capabilities when it comes to the male of the species. I’m kind of...attuned.” “And?” “And I can’t transform you.” A look of disappointment crossed Jeremy’s face. “You can’t…?” Chuck shook his head. “Well, maybe you just haven’t been trying hard enough?” He shook his handsome head again. “Maybe if you….” Chuck rose to his feet, fell to his knees, took Jeremy’s face in his strong hands and kissed him passionately. Chuck poured every ounce of Transform he could control into the kiss. Any other man—any ordinary man—would now be swelling so quickly and so large that his new body would be knocking out the walls. His head would be pressed against the ceiling. His cock would be shoving itself to superhuman extents and exploding with gallons of hot cream, and would be quickly joined by a secondary prick that was in every inch a twin of its brother. His body would mature into the most perfect, most beautiful version of himself, and he would be able to, with the same force and speed, transform any other man he met into another muscular giant. But that didn’t happen. Jeremy’s reaction was what one might expect when one is gay and one is being kissed by a gorgeous naked man with the body of a god, the cock of a porn star, the face of an angel and the sexual talent of a very accomplished prostitute educated in all the ways that pleasure can be conveyed. His new larger cock, courtesy of Tim, inflated to full glory again, pushing its fat head up its nearly ten inch stalk and he came again with sudden and unyielding force, splattering a wealth of hot cream all over Chuck’s incredible chest. Chuck started to laugh as he broke the kiss, then he was dipping his large fingers into Jeremy’s physical expression of joy and licking the cream from them. “You taste good,” he said. Then he kissed the smaller man to offer a sample of his own cream back to him. “What was that for?” “This first kiss or the second one?” Chuck asked, standing again and leaving Jeremy face-to-cock with the largest and most beautiful expressions of pure male sex that he’s ever seen. “Both. Either.” Chuck licked his lips. “You’re a great kisser, if you didn’t already know that.” He grinned. “The first one was to shut you up about how I know that I can’t transform you. If that had worked as it usually does—as it never fails to do—you’d be about three times your size and this building would be having some serious problems holding itself together. You’d be strong enough to rip this place apart with your bare hands, though honestly you’d be more apt to want to rip me apart and fuck me because I’m a very, very good fucker.” “I think I get the picture,” Jeremy said dryly, though he couldn’t help but allow his eyes to move all over Chuck’s amazing and incredible body with a newfound hunger. “You’d be like me, and let me tell you that I’ve been a truman long enough by now and I was shoving enough transforn at you that you’d be one of the strongest and probably one of the most beautiful men on the planet.” He tilted his head. “The second was because you’re so fucking cute that I couldn’t help myself.” “And?” “And nothing. You’re immune to me.” ‘Not altogether,’ Jeremy thought. Instead, he said, “But?” “But not, apparently, to Tim.” He looked down at himself, unable to deny that fact. “So?” “So I need someone who can inherit Tim’s ability. I need someone like Tim in his present, original, powerful state. But I can’t waltz in there and go, ‘hey, Timebomb, baby, what say you come with me and help a friend out with a little invisible truman problem?’” “Why?” “Because I fear that if we get together, the...desire to really get together will be too strong. And I’ll overwhelm him.” “What makes you think he won’t overwhelm you?” Chuck smirked. “Have you seen me?” He then proceeded to show himself off, inflating his muscles to new power and striking a few poses that had Jeremy’s cock throbbing hard all over again. “No, I know I’m too powerful. I’m the original. One way or the other, I’d screw him up, and I need him just the way he is.” “But where do I come in?” “I want you to be Tim’s friend. I need you to become like Tim. You, in particular. Because I can’t transform you, and if I get closer to Tim, I’m afraid of what might happen, what I might not be able to stop myself from doing.” “Transforming him.” Chuck nodded. “But...why?” “Because I think if a Timebomb goes off in a particular place, and at a particular time, and at a particular magnitude—You can bring my friends back.” “Tim doesn’t even know I exist,” Jeremy protested. “Oh, Tim knows you exist. He’s been coming to your door every week since you got here. He’s been after your ass since you two met in the hallway.” Jeremy was shocked. “You...you weren’t even around then!” “True. But you forget that I can go invisible, too. And I hear things.” “You’ve been spying on us!” “Just a little.” He grinned. “What, are you hiding something you’re afraid I’ll find out? Something besides you’re gay and you have the hots for me and the hots for Tim?” Jeremy looked hurt, but Chuck said, “Jeremy, everyone has the hots for me. They sort of can’t help it. Plus I’ve been practically bathing you in my secret sauce ever since we met so it’s not altogether unusual that you find me irresistible.” “Let’s not get out of hand, here. I’d hardly call you irresistible.” Chuck laughed. “See? That’s why I like you, Jeremy. You keep me grounded.” Jeremy laughed slightly, too, then his eyes narrowed. “Tim...likes me?” “Oh, yeah. Tim likes you. A lot.” “Then why are him and Barry…?” “You thought him and Barry? Him and Barry exist because Barry is a slut and Tim can’t help himself.” Jeremy smiled when Chuck called Barry a slute, but Chuck said, “Oh, don’t get me wrong here, Jeremy. I like sluts. Most—all—of my best friends are sluts. Hell, I’m the biggest slut you’ll ever meet. I admire Barry in a way. He’s not gay—at least, not before meeting the Timebomb. But he was open to adventure and having a little unconventional fun. Barry’s my kind of guy.” Then Jeremy looked hurt, again. “You’re my type of guy, too.” “Is everyone your type of guy?” “I just said I was a slut, didn’t I?” “Yeah,” Jeremy admitted. “Your trouble is that you have a very narrow view of love and sex, my young friend. I can’t blame you, of course. You haven’t had much opportunity to learn. But take it from me when I tell you that I can fuck a lot of people, and I can love a lot of people, and I don’t judge anyone. It’s entirely possible to love everyone, Jeremy. I love you and I love Barry. I just love you in different ways.” “How many different ways are there?” Chuck smiled. “As many different ways as there are different people in the world.” “You...love me?” “Of course! I love you very much.” “It’s...that easy?” “It’s easy if you allow it to be. Just stop limiting yourself and stop comparing everyone. Love people for who they are, not who you want them to be. I love you for who you are, Jeremy. If you change—and you will—I’ll still love you.” “How do you know?” He shrugged. “Love is easy.” This seemed to boggle Jeremy’s mind, but Chuck pressed on. “You understand what I’m asking you to do?” “Yes,” he answered. “And you also understand that I can’t ask you to do it?” “Yes,” he agreed. “I need to want to do it.” “And do you, Jeremy?” He looked into Chuck’s eyes. “I’ve never wanted anything as badly in the whole world.” Part 11 “Oof,” Barry said. “Don’t you mean, ‘woof’?” The newest member of Muscle Club grinned lasciviously at the equally muscled man opposite him in their shared and suddenly much-too-small dorm room. “That was fun,” he said. His voice had lowered somewhat as his body and all its parts had grown several sizes larger. He said “Fun,” again, just to hear the new timbre and sexy growl he’d acquired. “Fun.” His smile increased in wattage. “That’s one word for it,” Tim agreed. “You want to go again?” Barry considered it for only a moment as he looked at his super sexy roommate and then said, “I wouldn’t say no.” “So,” Tim asked, leaning forward, “that’s a ‘yes’, then?” Barry looked down at his twin cocks. “How do you guys handle all this?” “I find the usual method works fine,” Tim explained, and then he sucked one of his roommate’s majestic pricks inside his mouth while he grabbed the other and started stroking, and his efforts were immediately rewarded by a sudden flow of precum that drooled out of the mouth of Barry’s cobra and drizzled down its sides, lubing up Tim’s strokes with warm, thick honey. Barry started pumping cream inside Tim’s mouth with one cock as the other throbbed and pulsed and streamed its constant flow. Barry could easily control what each cock was doing! He smiled as he released his overwhelming cargo of rich, thick cream down his roommate’s throat as his other cock was simply happy sending thick electrical shocks of sexual bliss all through his massive frame. “That works,” Barry agreed, breathlessly. Tim looked up into Barry’s handsome face, nodding a slight agreement without missing a single blast from Barry’s prick. He drank it all down like a starving man, which wasn’t far from the truth. This was his first meal of transformed cream in months, and his body was practically shaking from delight. Tim sent a sudden, hard shock of sex into Barry’s head, tugging him hard and, without missing a stroke, he managed to simultaneously point his own cock nozzle towards Barry’s chest. He went off like a rocket, fountaining another rich gush of white cream that splattered all over his roomate’s body before he soaked it inside as only a Transformed man could, welcoming the richly sustaining cum like a desert welcomes rain. Barry gasped and groaned and allowed his secondary prick to fucking shoot, sending thick jets of cum all over himself and his own mouth. “Fuck,” he growled wetly. “Jesus fucking Christ, how do you stand it?” Tim released Barry’s raging hard-on from his mouth and asked, “Stand what?” Barry reached down and placed his hand behind Tim’s thick neck. “Not fucking doing this all the fucking time?” He kissed him soundly, tasting the sweet richness of his own cream on Tim’s tongue. “I like it when you talk dirty,” Tim admitted, now stroking both dicks in his hands. “Fuck you,” Barry said. “I thought you’d never ask,” Tim answered. And that was how it ended up that Jeremy found himself knocking on the door of Room 318 while Barry was balls deep inside Tim’s welcoming hole, fucking his roommate with his twins and squirting thick jets of cream inside his guts from his overloaded balls. “Hello?” Jeremy said. He was answered by grunts and groans and loud pounding noises. “Um, so, hi. I’m Jeremy? From down the hall?” “Uh. uh. uh. uh. uh. ooh. ooooooh.” “Yeah. Um, so, when you have a moment, I need to speak to someone about something that happened? Tonight?” “Huh, huh, uh, uh….” “And me gaining about 25 pounds of muscle?” “Whoa, what?” “Don’t stop!” “Jeremy?” “Yes?” “Did you say you…?” “Yeah, I did.” “25? Pounds?!?” “Well, I haven’t actually weighed myself, so that’s just a rough estimate.” “Fuck dude, don’t stop!” “Sorry, Barry, but I need to talk to Jeremy.” There was some other movements from inside the room, then, sounding a bit like two grizzlies wrestling. The whole building seemed to shake a couple of times as something—or somethings—weighing a ton or two bumped against the walls. Jeremy heard Barry’s voice—at least, he thought it sounded like Barry only a lot deeper—say, “Dude, you gotta show me that trick.” Tim’s more familiar but muffled voice answered, “It’s not a trick you just...do it.” “I just...do it.” “Yeah. You just...do it.” “I just fucking grow smaller like I’m a fucking telescope.” “Well. Yeah. Sort of.” There was a pause and no more wrestling, and then; “There ya go.” “That is...fucking weird, bro.” “Whatever, dude.” Then the handle was turning and the door was opening. “Hi, Jeremy.” Tim was naked. Absolutely, completely, gloriously, fantastically naked. His tremendous and massively muscled frame was coated in a sheen of sweat. His hair was agreeably tousled. His cock was agreeably huge and slick with spit or cum. He was grinning as he leaned against the door. Jeremy found himself going speechless, and his jaw opened but nothing came out. Then another face—and body—appeared behind him. Barry was no longer Barry. He’d been growing increasingly muscular over the past weeks at a dizzying rate, but now he was nothing short of massive. As massive as Tim. As handsome as Tim. A shaggy bear of a man with a brutality to his new body that made him appear a bit menacing, as if at any moment he would tear something apart. Muscle bulged everywhere, hard as stone and heavy as steel, and he was as naked as his roommate. “What up, Jer?” he asked, jutting his chin and smiling. “Whoa, dude, you should put some clothes on. What will people say?” Of course, Barry said this as he scratched an itch at his crotch, making his huge and pendulous cock wag and jump. “I…” Jeremy said, seemingly mesmerized by the two hulking hunks of raw, perfect muscle squeezed into the small room. “You?” Barry said. “Shut up a minute, Barry, and let him talk,” Tim advised over his shoulder. Barry shrugged and stared at Jeremy, his incredibly handsome face quirking into a waiting grin. “Are you all right?” Tim asked. Jeremy shifted his gaze back at Tim’s familiar face. His blue eyes sparkled. His jaw was dusted with a growth of whiskers. He looked fucking sexy. “I think something happened.” Barry laughed. “No shit, Sherlock. What was your first clue?” He was lifting one arm and watching his own newly developed brawn swell bigger and bigger under his gleaming skin. “Shut the fuck up, Barry! Seriously!” “Fine. I’ll leave you loverboys to your spat and go over there and jerk off some more.” He tapped his roommate on his shoulder and said, “I’m up for round three whenever you are.” Then he looked at Jeremy and added, “Unless you want to take a ride on the Barry Machine, Jeremy?” he grabbed hold of an ungodly length of fat prick and shook it at the smaller boy. Jeremy’s expression must have answered for him, because Barry just shrugged and disappeared into the small room, flopping on a bed that was out of Jeremy’s line of site and, apparently, masturbating. “Maybe we should go to your room, Jeremy,” Tim suggested. “Did you…want to put some clothes on?” “Did you want me to?” “Not...necessarily.” “I’m good if you’re good.” Tim closed the door behind him and followed Jeremy to his room. “Where’s your roomie? Charles? Is it?” “Chuck,” Jeremy corrected. “He’s...around.” “He’s a bit...odd.” “Is he?” Tim shrugged. “For a guy that looks like he looks, he certainly isn’t very...friendly. Kind of a dick, actually.” “He’s pretty cool,” Jeremy said, “once you get to know him.” “Shy?” “Sort of.” He gestured to Chuck’s bed and said, “Do you want to sit down?” Tim started to, then he inhaled deeply and said, “Is this his bed?” Jeremy nodded. “Huh. That’s weird.” “What’s weird?” “Smells like...never mind.” He paused, and then said, “I’m avoiding the elephant in the room.” “Is that me or you?” Jeremy said, looking pointedly at Tim’s trunk-like length of thick and meaty cock, hanging forward and arching over his two heavy balls, looking more like eggs in a low-hanging sack. “I’d say you’re doing a good job of catching up,” Tim noticed, eyeing the prominent bulge in the much smaller man’s boxers. Jeremy blushed, which made Tim’s pulse quicken and his exposed cock to twitch. “Yeah, well, someone gave me a little help in that department.” “Hello, elephant,” Tim said, grimacing a bit. “Yeah, so...yeah. If I knew you were around I wouldn’t have...you know.” “Set off the timebomb?” “You know about that?” “Tim, everyone knows about that.” He gestured to Chuck’s bed again. “You really can sit down.” Tim smiled at Jeremy’s manners, which were in direct contrast to Barry’s rather overt rudeness. He sat on Chuck’s mattress, his size making him look like a grown man trying to fit onto a child’s bed. His large legs spread open to allow his wealth of sexual equipment to spill forward and down, framing the tremendous size and beauty of his cock and balls. “So, I guess I should apologize,” he said, holding his hands out. Jeremy sat down opposite him, shrugging slightly. “Like you said, you didn’t mean it.” He looked down at himself, “And I don’t think it’s necessarily fair of me to complain about growing more muscles and getting taller and, well, this.” He cupped his newly grown wealth of cock meat, rubbing it slightly and feeling that tingling sensation of sexual delight that had grown larger, too. “And your face,” Tim offered. “I mean….” Jeremy smiled back and rubbed his stubbled chin. “Yeah, I guess that changed, too.” Tim nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said warmly, “it did.” “Better?” Jeremy asked. “Different,” Tim answered. “So, not better.” “I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it in the first place.” Jeremy blushed again, causing Tim’s heart to skip a beat. “Thanks,” the small young man said. Tim cleared his throat. “Awkward, though,” he said. “And now you’ll need excuses for your friends and….” “I don’t have any friends,” Jeremy said. “Well, except for Chuck.” “You’ve got friends,” Tim said, lowering his head. “Whether you know it or not.” There was a protracted silence, and then Jeremy said, “Well, um, I just...I guess I just wanted to let you know that I’m not mad or anything, in case you saw me later and realized what happened.” Tim looked up, meeting Jeremy’s gaze. “You’re not mad?” “Well, I am a bit...shocked. And surprised. But I’m not mad at you, Tim.” The huge man sighed with a long exhale. “I am sorry, though. Really, I am. I wish I could stop it from happening but I don’t know how...or why…or….” “It’s part of you,” Jeremy said. “That’s not something you should ever feel bad about.” “Yeah, but….” Jeremy reached forward and touched Tim’s hand. “Never feel badly about who you are. A friend taught me that.” “Chuck?” Jeremy nodded. “Like I said, he’s pretty cool.” “Once you get to know him.” Tim looked down at Jeremy’s hand. “Are you two…?” “Us? Oh, god, no. I mean, he’s nice and he’s cool and he’s….” “Extremely good looking.” “Look who’s talking.” Now it was Tim’s turn to blush. “Anyway,” he said, and then the words drifted off and he stood up. “I’m glad you’re not mad,” he said. Jeremy looked up and up and up at the huge young man. “I’m not, Tim.” “Okay,” he said. Jeremy stood back up, too. “Barry’s probably waiting.” “I….” “What?” “Nothing.” “I’ll see you around then.” “I hope so,” Tim said quietly. And then he left, while Jeremy watched his perfect ass bob and flex. “That wasn’t awkward at all,” Chuck said. He was suddenly standing near the window, again, naked and perfect. “Shut up.” Chuck smiled. “Wow,” he observed, “you’re really not very good at this.” “I….” “You want to know the secret?” “What secret?” “To being good at this.” He looked at the sexy man in his room. What did he know of secrets? All he had to do was smile and anyone would be his, would do whatever he wanted, be with him forever. “I guess so.” “Stop giving a rat’s ass about what anyone else thinks.” “I don’t.” “You do. You very much do. You worry what someone will think, let alone what they might say. You worry that they won’t like you, or they’ll judge you. And they will, Jeremy, my friend. My very good friend. They will do that. There’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop them, or make them think something else. That’s why it isn’t—or shouldn’t be—the least bit important to you. Instead, be the best person you know how to be, and treat people with kindness, and compassion, and loyalty. Those people worthy of you, the people who love you, they’ll stick by you and be there when you need them.” Chuck looked at his young friend gravely. “And those people are the only ones that matter.” “That sounds simple.” “It is simple.” “But….” Chuck shook his handsome head. “No buts about it, Jeremy. When you finally accept yourself, and stop giving a fuck about what other people who don’t matter at all think about you, life gets easy. Friends and lovers appear. And when you talk to someone else you care about, you’ll start to know the ones who care about you.” Jeremy quirked a frown, and Chuck seemed to read his mind. “You think because I look the way I look, or do the things I can do, that I can’t understand what it’s like.” Jeremy started to answer in the affirmative, but Chuck cut him off. “Fair enough. I admit I have a few...unfair advantages.” “A few?” “Okay, a lot.” He grinned his sideways grin that always managed to put Jeremy at ease. “Just try it some time. The next time. The next time Barry makes you feel small or insignificant, remember that his opinion has about as much weight as a fruit fly. He’s not your friend.” “But Tim….” “Barry’s not your friend. At least not yet. Things change. People change. He’s about to change in a dozen ways he can’t possibly imagine. So be nice to him. But don’t give a fuck about what he thinks of you...until he becomes a friend.” “I don’t think that’s gonna happen any time soon.” “Stranger things have happened. Believe me, I watched them.” He moved his perfect body towards his bed and sat down. “Tim,” he said. “What about him?” “I can smell him. Smell his power.” He closed his eyes for a moment and stroked himself, pulling in a long, slow breath that made his mammoth chest expand. “So much power.” He opened his smoldering eyes again. “That young man is holding a lot back, and he’s going to need your assistance.” “Our assitance, you mean.” Chuck shook his shaggy head again. “I can’t do anything. Only you can.” “What am I supposed to do?” “I don’t know.” “Thanks. That’s really helpful.” “My pleasure,” he answered with a grin. “But you’re willing to try?” Jeremy sighed. “I… guess so.” “He likes you a lot, you know.” “He likes everyone,” Jeremy said. “He likes you a lot.” • • • • “What was up with small fry?” Barry asked, looking up as Tim re-entered the room. “He’s not that small,” Tim corrected. “Nope, that much is crystal clear.” He licked his lips and scanned Tim’s naked body with obvious lust. “So...what do you want to do now?” He grabbed his cock and wagged it in the large man’s direction. Tim looked over. “Do you think he likes me?” “Who? Jeremy?” Tim nodded. Barry shrugged. “I thought he was hanging with that weird Charles guy.” Barry paused, and narrowed his eyes. “Though, now that I think about it, that Charles guy is pretty fucking hot.” “He said he’s not.” “He’s not hot?” “No, dummy, that he and Charles are....” “You asked him?” Tim nodded. “Whoa.” “What?” “That’s just sad.” “What?” he repeated more strongly. “Here you are, the biggest baddest strongest dog in, like, the county and you’re all in heat for some little bitch down the hall.” “Don’t call him that.” “I was just jok….” “Do not call him that. Ever.” “Dude. Chill out. I’m just yanking your chain. If you want him, go down there and get him.” “It’s not like that.” “What’s it like, then?” Tim looked at Barry with a scowl. “No, I’m serious here, dude. I mean, what the fuck? Are you in love or something?” “How could I be in love with someone who never even looks at me?” His face took on a sad expression and there was a bit of a lament in his deep voice. “Oh, fuck, dude.” “What?” Barry smiled broadly. “You are in love.” “Shut up.” He shook his head. “Dude, that’s just sad.” “Do you have a tender bone in your body, Barry?” He grinned as he looked down at himself. “Everything’s rock hard at the moment, dude.” He leaned up and held out his hand, “which I’d be happy to demonstrate if you’re in the mood for some more Barry time.” “Seriously?” Tim leaned against the doorframe. “What happened to you, bro? A minute ago you were riding me like a fucking stallion, and now all I see is Mr. Puppy Love and his limp dick.” “It’s...complicated.” “There’s nothing complicated about it, dude. Just turn that sorry, handsome ass of yours around and get back down the hall and tell the little bro what you feel.” “It’s not that simple.” “What’s not simple about it?” “I’ve never….” “You’ve never what. After what we just did I have a hard time believing there’s something you’ve never done.” His brow arched and he tilted his head. “Wait. Are you telling me…. Seriously, dude? Never?” “Never what?” “You’ve never been in love?” “I’m not in love.” “Dude, you so are.” He sat up, and a different demeanor came over him. “Dude, I’m sorry about before. Bro, this is some serious shit.” “I’m not….” “Dude,” he said. Then, more seriously, “Dude.” Tim sighed. “I know.” “Dude.” “I know!” “Dude. Seriously.” “Shut up, Barry, I know!” “You don’t know how fucking lucky you are, dude.” “And why am I so fucking lucky?” “Because, dude, you just happen to be rooming with The King of Love.” Tim rolled his eyes and slapped his forehead. “Dude! I’m serious as a heart attack!” “You’re the king of love.” The disbelief and sarcasm in Tim’s voice was thick enough to cut with a knife. “I’m not just a pretty face, Timster. I’ll have you know I’ve been in love dozens of times.” “Dozens?” “Half a dozen.” Tim crossed his arms over his gargantuan chest. “A couple. But I was totally good at it!” “Somehow I don’t see you as the romantic type.” “Dude, that’s just because all we do is fuck.” “Well, you are good at that.” “Shit yeah, I’m good at that. And I’m totally better at the whole love thing.” He stood up from the bed and crossed the short space between them, placing his new, large hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Dude, you and me? We are so going to make that guy fall in love with you.” Tim rolled his eyes again. Part 12 “Love,” said Barry, “is all about the other person.” He was lying sprawled on his bed on his side of the dorm room. His new, improved, over-sexed and powerfully muscled body was naked, as usual. He now understood quite intimately why it was that Tim, his roommate, was naked so often. In this new larger body, overheated by sexual need and power and constantly reminding him of its size, strength and hunger, wearing anything felt constricting and unnatural. His thick and powerful legs stretched forward, his huge feet planted on the floor, his wide back pressed against the wall. He was, for once, not stroking one (or both) of his twin pricks but they were both exposed, jutting forth proudly and lying splayed across each thick leg like fat snakes. His arms were folded across his massive chest and his head was slightly tilted as he spoke. “Yeah, that much I got,” Tim agreed, wrinkling his brow. He was standing in the room, because with the both of them in there was hardly any space as it was. They were, for the moment, between bouts of sex. He had changed his friendly roommate into another member of Muscle Club, and now they were two gigantic muscular specimens bulging against each other for every inch within their shared room. Tim was still feeling confused. In one sense, he felt enormously guilty for having changed his roommate and, now, friend in such a dramatic and life-changing way, no matter how many times Barry tried to convince him that everything was okay. On the other hand, he finally had someone else around with whom he could unleash his pent-up and powerful sexual needs and capacities - someone who owned the same amplified libido and over-charged double dicks and could give as good as he got. And he had to admit, Barry was a very, very talented and eager partner. They had been having sex nearly non-stop. Every time they came to pause in the activity, one man would catch the other man’s eye, something unsaid (and not needing to be said) would pass between them and they’d instantly reunite for another extended round of naked, sweaty, powerful, cum-blasting sex. The room was saturated in the smell of the two young men and their bodies’ new pheromonal production of intense sexual muskiness. Though it was still winter and cold as a witch’s tit outside (to paraphrase Barry) they had the window open to both cool down the overheated space and bring in some fresh air to clear out some of their mutual sex funk, which would otherwise drive each other crazy with desire in the confined space. The beds were, for the moment, shoved back against the walls, but they were looking much the worse for wear. Or wear and tear. These were two very strong, very heavy, very athletic and very flexible young men. They may have even invented one or two new ways to fuck, they weren’t entirely certain. Barry wrinkled his brow in a comical imitation of his roommate and lover. “No, it’s more than that. It’s…deeper.” He sat up a bit and dropped his hands to the bed. His cocks flopped about and he absently pushed one hand beneath them to pull his tremendous balls out from under. They were plump eggs. “Haven’t you ever felt like you’d do anything - literally anything for someone else?” “Sure.” He considered the question a bit deeper, leaning his broad, beautiful bulk against the bathroom doorframe. “I love my mom. I love my dad. But I don’t….” “You don’t want to fuck them, which is good to hear.” “Barry, eeeyoo, gross. That wasn’t at all what I was going to say.” “But that’s the distinction that’s important” he said, holding up a finger. “You can love someone a hell of a lot and not want to fuck them. And you can fuck someone a hell of a lot and not truly love them.” “Are you trying to tell me something, rookie?” Barry huffed through his nostrils. “If you’re asking me whether I love you, I can answer that one easily. Yes, I love you. You’re my bro and my friend and I’ll do whatever I can to help you, which is why we’re having this conversation right now, because I love you - but I don’t love-love you.” “We fuck.” “Loads,” Barry agreed. “So…what’s the difference?” “The difference is how you feel about me and how you feel about Jeremy.” “I haven’t fucked Jeremy.” “Why?” “What?” Barry paused and then shrugged, repeating, “Why? Why haven’t you fucked Jeremy? He’s got a cute ass.” Barry watched Tim’s naked body blush red. “I never noticed.” “Riiiiight.” He sighed. “Look, what I’m saying is the way you feel about Jeremy, the way you feel right now when I say his name, the way you feel in your heart - that thing inside your chest beating really hard right now and making your whole body feel hot - that’s a different kind of love. A special kind. The kind worth pursuing.” “You love me,” Tim said, doubtfully. “Yeah, bro, I love you. That’s why I want to help.” He tilted his head again. “Wait…have you…have you ever told anyone you loved them?” “Of course,” Tim answered a bit quietly. “Like who?” “My parents.” “Yeah, but you have to love them, don’t you? I mean have you ever said it to someone not your parents?” Tim considered his answer carefully and was suddenly looking everywhere around the room except at Barry. “I mean, sure, I’ve said it and….” “To who?” Barry pressed. “I’ve said it,” he repeated. “This isn’t a test, Timmy. I’m not trying to make you feel bad or embarrassed or anything. But if you’ve never even said it….” “Look, okay, love…that word…it’s hard for me to say it.” “Why?” “It just…is.” Tim shrugged and looked abashed. “I dunno why. I think…I just think it’s important. It’s not something you say to everyone.” “Or anyone?” “It’s…hard for me, okay? I think love is…love is huge, and it doesn’t happen a lot, and when you say it you have to mean it. Like, really, really mean it.” “What do you feel when I say it to you?” “When you…?” “Yeah, do you think I don’t really love you? That it’s just words? Or that it’s something I say to everybody I meet?” “I dunno,” Tim answered. Barry shook his head a little. “Can you say it to me?” “Can I say it…?” “That’s assuming you feel anything for your roomy of course. And you don’t have to. And I’m certainly not looking for a commitment here. I’m just asking if you can say it.” He moved to stand up, lifting his muscled bulk off the small bed and standing now eye-to-eye with Tim. “I love you, Timmy. You’re my bro. I’ll do anything for you, because I love you.” “I….” Barry half-smiled and narrowed his eyes. “I….” “Whoa, dude,” Barry said, placing his hand on his roommate’s shoulder, “we have a lot of work to do.” “I’m not prying,” Chuck said, “or I am prying but I don’t mean to be prying.” “It’s not as simple as that,” Jeremy said. He was sitting on his bed, his hands clasped in front of him, staring at the floor. Chuck was standing at the window, his naked ass facing the campus for everyone to see, if anyone bothered looking up. “And besides he’s got Barry and Barry and him are always together and why would he want to see me when Barry….” “So you’re convinced that Tim and Barry are a thing, and there’s no room for you in there?” “In where?” He looked up at his amazing and superhuman roommate. Chuck dropped to a crouch and pressed his finger against Jeremy’s meaty chest. “In there,” he said quietly. Jeremy shrugged slightly. Chuck stood back up, placing his cock at Jeremy’s eye level which was always more than a bit distracting for the college freshman. Chuck owned…a perfect cock. There was just no denying that. Chuck, himself, was perfect. “This might be a bull-by-the-horns situation,” Chuck stated. His deep, powerful, sexy voice said the words with conviction. “What bull, and who’s horns?” Jeremy looked up his roommate’s massive and beautiful body, past the bulging 8-pack abs and the two twin globes of heavy pectoral power and into his green eyes. “Figure of speech,” Chuck said. “Though in this case, the bull and the horns are both named Barry.” “I’m not gonna kiss you, if that’s what you’re asking.” “We kiss plenty,” Barry answered, and that was certainly true. “But I know what you mean.” “I find it hard to believe that you’re going to be able to tell me anything about love,” Tim said. “Don’t get all defensive and try to insult me, bro. This isn’t about me, right now, it’s about you. Now, I happen to know a hell of a lot about love, and I happen to know a hell of a lot about dudes in love, and I happen to know that you’re a dude in love with that other scrawny dude at the end of the hall and I want to help you out with him, even if I think he’s kind of a loser.” “Shut up,” Tim said warningly. Barry smiled. “Yeah, I guess if you want to waste your time with someone like that, who am I to….” “I said shut up,” Tim repeated, with a bit more menace in his tone. “I’m just saying you could find someone else who’s so much better than Jer….” “Jeremy is sweet and kind and polite and amazing. Jeremy is beautiful and handsome. Jeremy is so much better and more of a man than you’ll ever be that I can only guess that your so jealous of him that… what? What? Why are you laughing? Stop laughing, Barry!” “Love Lesson number one, dude: When you’re in love, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” “But….that’s not fair! You… he….” “And Love Lesson number two: When you’re in love, you need to tell the person you’re in love with.” “But…” “Like, right now.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that it sounds like our friend Barry needs some distracting if you’re going to start to get any attention from Tim.” He smiled and winked. “Lucky for you, I’m very distracting.” “But, what if…?” “What if instead of Barry that Tim sees what a big juicy hunk of beautiful I am and decides to fall in love with me?” “Don’t tell me you read minds, too?” Chuck shook his head. “Not so much, although I can make you come just by thinking.” “Oh, ha ha.” “Yeah, bad joke I guess.” His smile said otherwise. “No, really, the ‘big juicy hunk of beautiful’ was spot on.” “I know my audience,” Chuck said with a shrug. “But what if…?” “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, whatever that bridge is. I have a strong feeling that Barry’s going to be very…amenable to any sort of proposition I might have for him. If all you need is for a little less Barry for there to be a lot more Jeremy in the picture, I’m more than happy to put my talents to good use.” He smiled his filthy sideways smile that always made Jeremy’s cock twitch. “Besides, something tells me that Barry thinks he’s God Gift, and I’m just the guy to show him exactly what God intended when he started putting presents under the tree.” Jeremy’s gaze wandered over his roommate’s incredible and awesome body and he had to agree. If there was one man on the planet capable of drawing someone’s attentions away from someone as gorgeous and perfect as Tim - it was Chuck. “You need to dress yourself up nice and go down to that little dude’s door…” “He’s not little,” “…and get this party started, dude. I love when we’re fucking away and having some nice, nasty naked time, but all this moping around like some lovesick puppy grates on my sensitive emotional state.” “What sensitive emotional…?” Barry slapped Tim’s ass hard. “Now go get some clothes on. You’re going to have a date with the man of your dreams if it kills you.” “A date!” Tim looked shocked. A date? Muscle Club dudes don’t date. Muscle Club dudes fuck! And have fun! And fuck some more! And he said as much. “Whatever, dude. This ain’t high school and Jeremy ain’t some piece of Muscle Club ass you want to just plug yourself into and go. And don’t argue with me here, I’m right and you’re wrong. If you want to get somewhere with that one, it’s going to take more than a little slap and tickle. You’re going to have to commit.” “Commit what?” “Everything, dude! Jesus, didn’t anyone ever teach you anything about relationships?” Barry shook his head. “Look, I mean, what we have, this is fine. This is fun. It’s fucking great, and it’s great fucking. But love is….love…oh, Jesus, love is everything!” “But what if…?” “But what if he rejects you? What if he hurts you? What if you go pour your mighty heart out all over the rug and he looks at it and laughs?” “Sort of,” Tim said with a shrug, though Barry had just voiced every hidden fear in his heart. “Dude, it doesn’t matter. You have to do it, because love is worth all of it. All the heartache and all the fucking anger and fear and sorrow and yeah, you’ll feel all that too. But then you’re in love, and you remember why you’re and love, and so does she…erm, he. And you look at her…him, and you feel your heart swelling like a balloon and you feel your feet coming up off the floor and you feel hot and sick and wonderful.” “Because why?” “Because you’re in love!” “I don’t want…!” Tim’s argument was quieted by a knock on their dorm room door, and Barry tucked one of his dicks up like he was born to it and walked naked to their small, overcrowded room’s entrance and turned the knob. A man was standing outside in the hallway. A man unlike any man that Barry (or Tim) had ever seen. A man of such physical beauty and perfect muscular development that it was difficult, at first, to look at him. Barry blinked and swallowed into a dry throat and allowed his eyes to travel up and down the man’s incredible - and incredibly naked - body before resting at last on his sea green gaze. He knew this dude, but all of the sudden he was seeing him for the first time. How had he never noticed how… how… how perfect he was? How beautiful? How powerful? How fucking sexy? “Hello,” the man said. Barry felt his cock swell and sizzle as the simple greeting licked his ear and dropped inside his head and started stroking his over-amped libido. “I don’t believe we’ve ever been formally introduced. My name is Charles. I live down the hall.” He was simply standing there. He was shorter than Barry was now, smaller in stature, but for some reason Barry felt physically overwhelmed by the man. “Heh…hello,” Barry managed to say. Chuck smiled. His body was perfect. His muscles were hard and bulging. His thick forests of warm, soft fur swarmed over his collection of brawn in beautiful patterns, swimming into the deep crevasses between the swollen muscles. He had a rough, handsome beard on his chiseled features and his eyes were the color of emeralds. Fat, lickable nipples pushed up from the two massive globes of his chest, and a palpable heat was emanating from his tall, wide, massive frame. His huge, beautiful, thick, long cock poured over his balls inches long, a fat pipe of pure sex that was almost glowing with power. Barry’s cock started arching upwards and his balls were inflating with cream. He was releasing a thick cloud of intense masculine pheromones and his dark, heavy nipples tingled. Chuck smiled and said, “I was just wondering if you wanted to fuck.” “”Puh…pardon?” Chuck licked his lips and parted them slowly. “Fuck,” he said. He looked back towards his room and then locked eyes with Barry again. “My roommate, Jeremy, is out at the moment. Went down to the library or something.” He said this sentence rather louder than necessary. “I’m all alone down there and horny as hell. Jeremy is much too polite to…engage me, much as I’d like to. Can you imagine that? Someone turning me down?” Chuck was subtly amplifying his already brain-spinning collection of brawn and beauty. Who, indeed, could deny this man anything? “Besides, he only has eyes for somebody else.” He reached down and moved his fingers around his fat shank of meat, rubbing the skin with his thumb. He pulled in a slow, long breath and let it escape in a deep, animal growl. “So…do you wanna fuck?” “Do I want to…?” Chuck nodded. Then he reached forward and grasped Barry’s dick in his grip, sending a cascade of The Touch though the connection, lighting up Barry’s sex drive like a dozen wet tongues all licking his hard-on and rubbing the head and sucking the tip until he was dry. “Let’s fuck,” Chuck stated. He allowed his magical cock to start lengthening and thickening, swelling longer and heavier as he stood there. “Um, Timmy? Bro? I’m gonna go out for a few minutes…” “Hours,” Chuck said quietly. “Oh my God,” Barry replied. “God? No. I’m no God.” He squeezed Barry’s dick and sent another hard, heavy jolt of pure sex into his body. “But let’s see how close we can get to heaven.” Chuck pulled the young man out into the hallway by his dick and closed the door behind him, leaving a dumbstruck Tim standing alone in the dorm room with only one idea in his head. Get. To. The. Library. Jeremy was trying to look busy, but his heart was beating very quickly in his chest and he kept needlessly rearranging his books and laptop to make it appear that he was doing…something. He tried not to glance at the door, but every sound in the library made his heart jump and his breath catch. He had never been so nervous in his life. Chuck’s instructions were still echoing in his ears: “Just be yourself.” “But what if he…?” Then Chuck shook his head and turned him around and shoved him out the door. “Just be yourself. He’ll like you. You’re very likable.” He put on a plain white crew neck t-shirt and his favorite sweater, a sky-blue knit which stretched itself across the new, larger contours of his body in a weird but not unattractive manner, and squeezed himself into a pair of jeans (why was his butt so big? why did he need such a big butt anyway?) and shoved his fatter cock into the crotch (which, annoyingly, only made it want to bulge even larger once he’d managed to button the fly up and it started to rub in a most distracting way) and slipped his feet - which, thankfully, hadn’t grown larger with the rest of him - into his winter boots and gathered up his backpack and headed to the library. “The library?” he’d asked Chuck, after given some odd instructions. “It’s perfect,” he said, “because it’s neutral ground and you’ll be in your element.” “That’s my element?” “You have to admit that you spend an inordinate amount of time there.” A smile crossed Jeremy’s lips and Chuck asked, “What’s that for?” “‘Inordinate,’” he repeated. “Sometimes I forget that there’s a brain inside that amazing body of yours.” “It’s my best feature,” Chuck said with a bit of pride. “And that’s saying something,” Jeremy chided, giving his impossibly beautiful roommate an appraising once-over. When Jeremy walked past Tim and Barry’s room, he could hear their deep voices rumbling like boulders. The word “love” kept coming up distinctly, and it made Jeremy’s heart collapse a little. The library was practically abandoned, as he had hoped it would be. Nearly everyone had gone home for winter break, and who was going to be spending time in the library anyway? Only losers. Like him. Would Tim even show up? What was Chuck going to do, anyway? How was he going to convince Barry to let Tim come to the library - or convince Tim to leave Barry’s arms - when they’d been cooped up together for the whole weekend without a glimpse of either of them? And what were they doing in there all this time? Did they even come out to eat? Making out, probably. Yeah. Kissing and stuff. Jeremy pictured the two of them kissing each other and he gagged a little. But then he found himself inserted in Barry’s place, and there’s was Tim’s handsome face, so close to his own, and Tim’s soft, warm lips (he imagined that they had to be very soft and very warm) and then Tim was leaning in close, and he could smell Tim and feel his heat and then Tim was pressing his lips to Jeremy’s and he could feel Tim’s wet, hot tongue pushing inside his mouth and…. “Hi.” Startled, Jeremy shoved his hand under the table to hide his hard-on. Dammit! Why did that keep happening? His clothes were now very tight on his body and he turned slightly, trying to simultaneously look up at whomever was there and not rip the seams of another undershirt again. There was a dude standing behind him who looked decidedly not like Tim. he wasn’t a bad looking sort of dude. He was, in fact, Jeremy had to admit, rather cute. Not handsome, but cute, with bright blue eyes, blonde hair, a prominent chin and a decent if not exactly amazing (on a Tim level) body. “Hi,” Jeremy said. “I’m Jeff. Jefferson Crawley.” “Jeremy.” “What’s up, Jeremy?” His blue eyes scanned Jeremy’s face, and traveled along his wide shoulders and newly developed chest. “You stuck here over the holiday?” Jeremy nodded, glancing at the library entrance and any sign of Tim. “Me, too,” Jeff answered. Jeremy looked up at him again as Jeff was looking at his books and computer screen. “So, doing a little extra studying?” “Yeah,” he answered. Jeff’s brow wrinkled. “Looks like you’re studying…everything.” He smiled, though. He did not have an unattractive smile. “I haven’t seen you around campus,” he observed. “I’ve been around,” Jeremy answered. “Funny. I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed a guy who looks like you do,” Jeff said. Then he smiled again. “Oh. I…I guess I do look….” “You here on a scholarship?” “Me?” Jeff nodded, as his eyes traveled across Jeremy’s chest and shoulders, then returned to his face. “Wrestling?” “Wrestling?” “No? Football, then?” “I’m not on a scholarship,” he said. “I’m an English major.” Jeff’s eyebrows arched quite high. “An English major?” “Yeah,” Jeremy replied, feeling a little irritated. “Sorry, it’s just that…you don’t look like an English major.” “What do I look like?” “You look like a wrestler. Maybe it’s the way you fit into that sweater.” Jeremy looked down and plucked at the knitwear. “Don’t get me wrong, you look…really good in that sweater.” He looked back up. “Thanks?” “Really good.” Jeremy frowned. What the hell was this guy on, anyway? “Um, so, do you…wanna…get some coffee? Or something?” “Coffee?” “Or something?” Jeff’s eyes moved to his chest again. “Accent on the something?” “No, I’m okay.” “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean…it’s just that usually my dar is excellent and I was very definitely getting a vibe off of you.” “Your dar?” “My gaydar.” Jeremy instantly blushed and felt his body heat up. “But it’s cool,” Jeff said quickly, “I didn’t mean….” “Wait. You want to go get coffee?” Jeff smiled and nodded. “With me?” He nodded again. “And by ‘coffee’ you mean….” “Anything you want it to mean,” Jeff answered. He placed his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and squeezed it slightly. “My room’s empty. We could…go have coffee there. If you were up for it.” There was movement over Jeff’s shoulder and Jeremy’s attention was drawn to it. The library door opened and a very large, very broad, very tall, very handsome figure moved inside the brightly lit building. “I…um….” Jeff noticed Jeremy’s distraction and turned around, looking for what Jeremy was looking at. It would have been very hard to miss Tim. “Oh, fuck” he said. Tim managed to reduce his bulk enough to fit into a polo shirt and a pair of jeans. He was still growing. He was always growing. And probably his recent gift of the Muscle Club magic to Barry and then Barry’s recent gift of nearly nonstop sex and the usual unending flood of warm, salty muscle-powered spunk from his swollen ball sack meant that Tim was now even larger than only two days ago. He hadn’t counted on that, and wasn’t even considering it before he tried to put some clothes back on and discovered that he was once again bigger. Bigger everywhere. The shirt was a bit ridiculous. Why was his growth always so pronounced in his shoulders and chest? His arms, too, were now thicker with muscle, and the tiny sleeves had rolled up his arms to allow his biceps and triceps room. The woven cotton rubbed across his fat nipples and stimulated his already over-eager sex drive, making it harder than ever to control the size and hunger of his cock. Of course, that - or those - too were bigger. He’d barely been able to shove the wealth of meat into his jeans and zip himself inside. The bulge produced by his mass of cock and those fat balls was comical, as if he was smuggling tennis balls in his crotch. The shirt rode high on his belly and his jeans rode low on his hips (taller, too, then) exposing a couple of inches of his midriff from above his navel to where his forest of curly pubes erupted on his pelvis. All in all, he thought he looked purely ridiculous, but there was no other course for him unless he just slipped on a jockstrap and wandered around campus bare-assed with the over-burdened pouch stretched to its limits. No one was around, anyway, so he strode with purpose and determination over to the library. Love, huh? Barry was such an expert. But he said it to just about anyone, didn’t he? Barry even said he loved Tim! How could he love so many people so easily? Love isn’t like that! Love is…love is hard! It’s…meaningful! It means something! You can’t just tell everyone you love them! The library was glowing with light on the deserted campus. Tim stalked towards it with purpose and intent. He was gonna tell Jeremy…something. Or, ask him something? How does one start this business, anyway? “Hey, Jeremy, I really like you and I was wondering if you like me too?” “Hey, Jeremy, really sorry about making you grow muscles and get even more amazingly handsome. Do you want to go somewhere and talk about it? While I stare at your face and dream about making out with you?” There was always the direct, Charles-like approach. “Hey, Jeremy, wanna fuck?” No, Jeremy wasn’t like Barry. Not at all. Jeremy was…beautiful. And amazing. And sweet. And awesome. And… Sitting over there with some other dude with his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Oh, fuck,” Jeremy echoed. Jeff looked back at Jeremy. “You know that dude?” “Yes. No. Sort of.” Jeff looked back towards Tim. “Jesus. I’ve seen him around but…Jesus. Why’s he dressed like that?” “I don’t think he has a choice.” Jeff could see Tim’s over-burdened crotch. “I see what you mean.” He looked up. “He’s looking over here.” “Yeah,” agreed Jeremy. “Are you sure you don’t know him? Because he looks like he knows you.” Tim stopped at the doors and just stood there, looking at Jeremy and some blonde dude talking. He swallowed and felt his mouth go dry and suddenly all his words and plans were vanishing away. He hadn’t counted on this. Some other dude. Some other dude with his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and sporting a hard-on in his jeans and practically salivating all over Jeremy’s body. “He’s coming over,” Jeff observed. “He does seem to be,” Jeremy agreed. Tim walked toward the couple and stopped. “Hi,” he said. “Hi,” Jeff said. “Hi,” Jeremy said. Then nobody said anything as they all stared at each other. Then Jeff stuck his hand out and said, “I’m Jeff.” Tim looked at the hand and then took it with some irritancy. “Tim,” he said, and they shook hand in introduction. “This is Jeremy,” Jeff said. “I know,” Tim said. Jeremy said, “Hi, Tim.” “Hi,” he answered. Then there was another long silence. Finally, Jeremy said, “Jeff was asking if I wanted to have some coffee with him.” Tim looked at Jeff. “Is that so?” Jeff nodded slowly. “Yeah.” “Coffee?” “Yeah,” he said again. “Just coffee?” “Well…yeah,” he said yet again, arching an eyebrow. “Wait a second, are you guys…?” Tim and Jeremy both looked startled, and then started saying, “No, oh no, no, we’re not, no,” and so forth at the same time. Jeff was looking back and forth between them, a smile growing on his face. “I see,” he said. Then he clapped his hands and looked at Jeremy. “I’m just gonna….go. I think. And…if you ever want to…get some coffee with me, I’m in room 302 in building C.” Then he looked at Tim meaningfully. “Okay,” Jeremy said quietly. Then he blushed again. Jeff exchanged looks with the two other men, said, “Yeeeaaaahhh,” very slowly and then moved away from the two of them, grinning wickedly. They both watched him go until he disappeared around a group of bookshelves. “He seems nice,” Tim observed, still looking at the empty space where the blonde had gone. “I guess so,” Jeremy answered. Tim looked down at Jeremy, and his heart seemed to flip over in his chest. Jeremy looked…really, really good. Like…REALLY good. The sweater he was wearing matched his eyes perfectly. It fit him like a glove, making his new bulk appear even larger than he knew it was. Jeremy had gained some pounds and inches on his slight frame, and probably he was a bit taller too. But something about him in that sweater, sitting there surrounded by books, looking both physically powerful and all brainy - it made Tim’s cock bulge. Jeremy looked up Tim’s broad, bulging, beautifully developed contours - it really was a ludicrous outfit he had on, but there was something undeniably sexy about the fact that he was now too large to even fit inside his own clothes, plus seeing so much skin in this public place made Jeremy’s whole body tingle alarmingly - and his eyebrow arched. “So,” he said, “you’ve been…busy.” “What?” “In your room,” he said. “Busy.” “Oh,” he said, “yeah.” “Did you want something?” he asked. “What?” “Are you okay? Is something wrong?” “Wrong?” He was still looking to where Jeff had gone. “Yeah, he’s nice looking, isn’t he?” “What? Who?” “Jeff.” Tim rounded on Jeremy suddenly. “That guy?” he asked, rather loudly. “Yeah,” Jeremy answered calmly. “That guy.” “He’s a jackass.” “You know him?” “Never met him in my life,” Tim answered. Jeremy smiled. “So….” Tim looked at Jeremy again and his brain went blank. God, the dude was SO. CUTE. “Here for some light reading?” “Huh?” “Taking a break from all that physical activity?” “Hmm?” “Barry?” “Barry?” “You? And Barry?” “Me and Barry what?” Jeremy sighed dramatically and turned towards his hoard of books. “Never mind,” he said shortly. “What did he want?” Tim asked. “Who?” “That Jeff guy.” “I told you, he wanted to go out for coffee.” “Uh huh.” “What’s your problem? Don’t like coffee?” “Listen, Jeremy, guys like that - he doesn’t want to have coffee with you.” “Guys like that?” “You have to be careful.” “I have to…what are you, my mother?” “I just mean….” “Why do you care?” “What?” “Why do you care?” Chuck pulled Barry inside Jeremy’s dorm room and closed the door behind them. He tugged the large man around by his dick and moved his hand behind Barry’s neck and pulled their lips together, giving Barry a passionate kiss as he stroked his cock and sent deep shocks of pure bliss through his body. Chuck was a fully transformed man, gifted with the full set of powers and all of them pumped up to their fullest potential and capacity. As far as sexual pleasure goes, there was nothing - no act, no request, no desire, no fantasy - that he was incapable of fulfilling. He pulled their two muscular bodies together and the heat in the room swelled. He pushed his tongue inside Barry’s mouth and they wrestled for dominance, as Barry lost control of his body and his secondary cock sprang forth and inflated to full power. Chuck pulled his lips from Barry’s and looked down. “Thanks for the compliment,” he said. “I haven’t managed to do that to another guy for quite some time.” Barry’s handsome young face twisted into confusion. “That happens to you a lot, does it? You kiss some guy and they spring a second boner?” “You’d be surprised what happens to me,” he answered. Then he kissed him again, harder and deeper, and pressed his body against Barry. Chuck began to swell larger with muscle. Barry could feel him growing, feel their skin rubbing against each other as his companion started gaining inches and pounds of hard brawn everywhere on his body. “Fuck,” Barry whispered, “you’re just chock full of surprises.” “And we’re just getting started,” Chuck answered. “How much experience do you have with those things?” “What, these little boys?” Barry asked, reaching down and grabbing both his dicks in his large grip. “I can handle myself if that’s what you’re asking.” “What I’m asking,” Chuck said, “is whether or not you’re going to be able to lift me into a screaming orgasmic explosion of superhuman pleasure, delivering so much fucking amazing fucking that I will burn the memory of you and me into my brain with searing sexual fire and regret every other fuck from this moment on.” “Oh,” Barry said. “So…the usual, then?” Chuck smiled. “You,” he said, “I like.” “I tend to have that effect on people,” Barry answered. “I….” Jeremy twisted around in his seat and looked up at the tightly clothed college freshman standing over him. “You? You what?” “I…care.” “You care,” Jeremy repeated. Tim nodded, slightly dumbfounded. “Why?” “Why?” “Why do you care? Tell me why you care, Tim.” “I…just do.” “Right.” Jeremy had no idea why he was angry in that moment. He didn’t have time to consider the reasons, he only had time to feel it. “Right. Fine. You ‘just do.’” “Yeah,” Tim said, confused by what was happening and unable to sort out his own feelings. This was not going at all the way he had imagined it. Not at all. “And what about Barry?” “Barry?” “Yes, Barry. That guy you spend all your time with? That guy who lives with you? That guy who you turned into another huge muscle stud and whenever I happen by your room you’re both naked and sweaty and all I hear from behind your closed door is the sounds of grunting and moaning? Barry?” “But, Barry and me, we’re just….” “Do you love him?” “What?!?” “Do you love him?” “I…guess I do, but I mean he said….” “Fine,” Jeremy answered. “Great. Perfect. Okay.” Jeremy stood and started shoving his books inside his backpack, muttering, “Fine. Great. Just perfect. Amazing. Yeah. Whatever.” “Jeremy, what’s…what’d I do?” The smaller boy turned and locked eyes on Tim’s handsome, bewildered features. “You just have no clue at all, do you? Not the slightest inclination. You’re entirely baffled by this whole thing.” Tim nodded. That was an excellent summary of his feelings at the moment. Jeremy exhaled hard. “Fine. Good. Okay.” He hefted his backpack onto his shoulder. There was a slight ripping sound as his t-shirt started to give way. “I wonder if Jeff is still around,” he asked, looking directly at Tim. “Jeff?” Tim’s voice sounded hurt and angry at the same time. “Yeah. At least Jeff knows what he wants.” He stared at Tim for a heartbeat. “That’s it, then? Nothing else to say?” “I don’t understand,” Tim said, half to himself. What was happening? Why was it happening? How was it happening? “I don’t understand.” Jeremy shook his head. “Well, I can’t go back to my room. Maybe I’ll go see if someone wants to have some coffee.” “Jeremy….” “What? What do you want? What?” Tim looked at Jeremy’s angry expression. There was nothing of love in it. Nothing of caring. Nothing of concern. “Nothing.” “Exactly,” Jeremy concluded, and he stalked off in the direction of Jeff’s departure. Tim stood in the emptiness for some time, trying to work through what had just happened in his head, trying to figure where things went wrong, and what he should do, and how he should feel. Part 13 Chuck’s body was coated with sweat, slicking up his skin and glistening like diamonds in the raw fur that coated his chest and belly. Barry looked down across the muscular planes of his lover’s rock-hard body, feeling the weight of the man’s legs over his own mountainous shoulders, the strong and potent scent of the man invading his senses like pure bliss, and felt dizzy and high, as if the sex they’d been having for…he didn’t know how long, was acting like a narcotic on his senses, pushing his brain into weird angles and making him doubt what he was seeing and feeling. He could never have imagined that anything in his life, on this planet or any other, could feel like what experiencing sex with this man felt like. Even having been with Tim and his unlimited libido and powerful and flexible body could not have prepared him one iota for the unending and overwhelming onslaught of perfect physical bliss that Chuck was somehow able to deliver in capacities that made his own mighty and muscular body shudder and collapse. Being fucked by the man was one thing. It wasn’t just the sensation of his majestic and talented prick pushing inside his ass with such authority and domination, or the unbridled cascades of pure pleasure he managed to provide as he shoved his hardness over and over against some magic exploding button inside Barry’s body, making him groan and cry and lose any semblance of control; it was that Chuck managed somehow to do that while stroking his flesh with several hands, and kissing his mouth with lips everywhere, and speaking raw filth into his head that drove him wild. But even that could not compare with fucking the man beneath him. It was like…it was like…words were not providing Barry with sufficient enough descriptive power to begin to approach what it was like to plug his cock inside Chuck’s magical, marvelous, tingling, throbbing, sucking, stroking, licking, caressing ass and feel…perfect. He felt perfect. He looked down at the man he was fucking, pulling himself out of that furnace of sexual fire, each inch increasing his desire to push back inside, and then as he was nearly out of the seat of sexual power he would shift his hips and slowly, ever so slowly ease his hard meat back inside, enveloped by thick and powerful throbs of sexual power that erupted through the fat inches of his prick and exploded inside him like fireworks made of sex. He closed his eyes, lolling his head back on his neck, and groaned and squirmed and nearly passed out from the unending rush of Chuck’s sexual power. He gulped in air to try to cool his overheated body. He reached up and pinched and twisted his nipples, making heavy fountains of cream spout from the mouth of his dick. Then he would be inside him, up to his balls, pumping another thick river of cum into the man’s guts and Chuck would gasp and moan and reach up and pull Barry down to him, their two muscular bodies married together in a dance of beautiful fucking, kissing his mouth, grabbing his ass, pulling him inside deeper and deeper, then pushing his fingers into Barry’s wet pucker and radiant surging cascades of refined masculine power, rapturous and euphoric, would enter his ass and the sensations of his dick and his butt would embrace inside him and explode, just as he was exploding another fat gush of cream inside Chuck. Chuck held nothing back. He did not gift the man with his own power, but he allowed him unfettered access to Chuck’s myriad and industrial-strength line of sexual and physical capabilities. Chuck had access to everything in a truman’s arsenal, and he was firing them all at Barry without restraint. Because no matter how far he went with the young man, he only wanted more. Chuck was amazed at first, and then he was astonished, and now he was truly shocked at the level of intensity that Barry was able to take and swallow - and then ask for more. There truly was something different - something unique and special - separating this new breed of transformed men from his own stock. They may not have developed some of the same capabilities and superhuman powers as he and his brothers, but they seemed even more attuned to the sexual connotations that Transform delivered. Even Chuck, who considered himself among the most powerful - if not the most powerful - of sexual beings on the entire planet was finding himself taxed with trying to keep up with Barry. Hours passed. They lost track of time. The room was a disaster area, with broken furniture and over-saturated with the scent of the men. Sweat and sex filled the space, and both were releasing heavy clouds of thickly scented pheromones that drifted outside into the chill night air. Finally, Barry pulled his still-erupting fountain from Chuck’s accommodating ass, kissed the man’s warm, soft mouth soundly and collapsed against him, resting his head on Chuck’s massive pectoral mountains and he sprayed hot, sticky sex all over their skin, feeling it revitalize them as it was sucked inside to feed their insatiable hunger. He came like a fountain, pushing a heavy stream of powerful cum from his swollen, over-stimulated balls, and they both groaned in ecstatic bliss. It splattered and splashed as he came and came, feeling Chuck’s strong arms surrounding his mass, swimming his fingers through the thick puddles of cum until they evaporated inside their bodies. “Well,” Barry said, “that was fun.” “You have a way with understatement,” Chuck observed with deep, soft laughter. “You didn’t think that was fun?” “Oh, I thought it was a bit more than fun,” the handsome man said, kissing his lover. “You’re quite a remarkable young man.” “I’m quite a remarkable man, young or old,” Barry boasted. “What’s being young got to do with it? How old are you, Mr. College?” “Oh, yeah. College. I keep forgetting that part.” “‘I keep forgetting that part,’” Barry repeated, trying to mimic Chuck’s absurdly deep and powerful tone. “You’re one weird dude, you know that?” “If you think I’m weird I have some friends you should meet.” Barry sat up and twisted around to look at Chuck’s inhumanly handsome visage. “If they’re anything like you, let’s call ‘em up and have a party!” Chuck laughed again. It was a rich, warm sound that Barry could feel as well as hear. Chuck reach up and twisted one of Barry’s fat nipples. “You,” he said, “I like.” “The feeling is mutual,” Barry agreed. He reached down behind him with his hand and found Chuck’s prick. It was warm and thick and still firm, though less than it’s nearly constant rock-solid state. He moved his hand beneath it and gripped it tenderly. “You fuck like you haven’t fucked in years, dude.” “Feels like it sometimes,” Chuck admitted. “That was some heavy duty shit there, especially at around hour two…or was it three?” “Which?” “That thing you did where you were underneath me and then you somehow twisted me around like a fucking corkscrew and suddenly you were on top and my legs were split open and you were bending down pushing your mouth against mine without stopping for a second, pistoning away like a fucking diesel truck on my well-worn hole.” Chuck smiled. “Oh, yeah. That part.” As his lover smiled, Barry felt a cascade of something like pure bliss shake his senses. God damn but the man was handsome. Not just handsome, downright beautiful. “You’re beautiful,” he said. And then he squeezed Chuck’s dick. “You’re not so bad yourself,” Chuck agreed, moving his large, powerful hand across Barry’s massive pecs. “And fuck if you can’t fuck like a motherfucker!” Chuck laughed again. “You have a remarkable way with words.” Barry winked. He was looking into Chuck’s face, and a question occurred to him. “How many?” Chuck blew a breath out between his full, moist lips. “Well, I guess it depends on whether you count each time we switched places or if it was all one long continuous….” Barry punched Chuck’s meaty chest playfully. “No, stupid, I mean how many lovers have you been with?” “You first,” Chuck said. He wasn’t sure he could count that high, and if he did he wasn’t sure Barry would believe him. Barry closed his eyes and his lips moved a little. He smiled more than once and even moaned and cooed as he went through his repertoire. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at Chuck again. “Around forty, I think.” “Forty guys?” “Oh, fuck, no. Only three guys. Forty girls.” “Only three guys?” “You’re lucky number three if you’re wondering.” “Fuck.” “Is that a good ‘fuck’ or a bad ‘fuck’?” “It’s a good fuck. I’m just surprised. You know your way around a dick like you were born to it.” “I kinda was. I mean, I’m an owner so I know what feels good, right? And me and Tim have been going at it practically non-stop since…this happened,” he said, raising and bending his arm to make all that new prime muscle meat bulge and swell, “and I figure Mr. Big Balls has been with his fair share of dudes, so he’s been an excellent teacher.” “How did it happen?” “The muscle thing?” Chuck nodded, reaching up and running his hand through Barry’s hair with gentle strokes. Barry shrugged his wide shoulders. “He sorta…lost control or something. I mean, I gotta admit I have some responsibility for it too. Takes two to tango and all that, and the dude can be very convincing when he has your legs in the air and his tongue is down there lapping at your asshole.” “I’d imagine so,” Chuck agreed. The taste of Barry’s tight pucker was still on his tongue. “So, yeah, he was pretty riled up and he has this…thing. Which I guess you’ve noticed since you’re down the hall from us.” “The sexplosion?” Now Barry laughed. “Yeah. Sexplosion. I like that. He calls it the Time Bomb, because when the timer goes off he just explodes, and if you’re in the way, well…” He ran his hands across both of his mountainous pecs and then down his rippled belly, ending his exploration by reaching along the thick inches of his new prick and petting his monster familiarly. “Anyway, I guess it gets…I dunno, pent up or caged or something and if he doesn’t, like, let it go every once in a while, it fucking goes off all at once and I was in the right place at the wrong time.” “Wrong time? So you…regret that he…?” Barry planted his hands on either side of the huge man beneath him. “Oh, fuck no! Are you fucking kidding me? I mean, yeah, I’ll have a hell of a time explaining this all to my mom. She’s gonna fucking freak the fuck out!” His voice went up a couple of registers as he began another mimicry. “Just what have you done to yourself, Barrington Percy Manners? You look a fright with all those muscles all over you!” His twisted his face into a grimace. “Yeah, can’t wait for that day.” “Percy?” “Shut the fuck up,” Barry warned. He settled his shaggy head back onto Chuck’s chest and re-applied his grip to the man’s huge prick, trying without success to squeeze Chuck’s mammoth meat firmly. It only made his cock surge with its own firmness and swell outward against his grip. He exhaled loudly and shook his head at the man’s power and control. “So, what’s it like?” “What’s what like?” “Being a truman?” Chuck sighed out a heavy breath and closed his eyes. “There goes your Christmas surprise.” “Yeah, well, Christmas is over and New Year’s is coming. I’m not an idiot, Chuck.” He squeezed his dick hard again, and felt Chuck pressing back against him, swelling huge. “Nobody, and I mean nobody looks the way you do and does the things you can do who isn’t a truman - or whatever it is that Tim is. And, I guess, I am, too.” “You’re not a truman,” Chuck said, “at least not yet.” “Yeah? Is that a not-so-subtle offer, Superman?” “I’m not Superman.” “Can you bend steel with your bare hands?” “Sort of.” “Are you faster than a locomotive?” “Depends on what I’ve had for breakfast.” “Can you leap tall buildings in a single bound?” “What’s a ‘bound,’ anyway? Is that a jump? Why not just say single jump? No one knows what the fuck a bound is.” Barry thumped his head against Chuck’s chest again. “Can you fly, Superman?” “Depends on one’s definition of fly….” “Can you float around in the sky without benefit of plane or parachute or strings or anything? You know…fly?” “Technically? I guess you could say that I can fly.” Barry stroked Chuck’s cock. “Happy to make your acquaintance, Superman.” “But the heat vision thing, totally can’t do that.” Barry twisted his head on his neck to meet Chuck’s free gaze. “Timmy and me, we aren’t truman?” “Not precisely, no. Because you weren't transformed by a truman. Something else is happening. Something similar but different.” “So…we get the two dicks thing and the giant muscles thing and the constant state of hyper-horniness thing but not the flying thing and…what else?” “What else?” “Yeah, what else have you got that I haven’t got?” He stroked Chuck’s cock like he was petting a friendly snake. “Well, you can certainly fuck like a truman.” “That sounds like a compliment.” “That is totally a compliment.” Chuck scrubbed Barry’s scalp in a friendly manner. “Dude, the hair!” Chuck laughed. “What else?” “How much can you control yourself. Your body, I mean.” “I can get bigger and smaller, though you appear to be able to do that a lot better than me, so any pointers there would be appreciated. Ripping apart my clothes is starting to get fucking annoying. And I can tuck up my spare dick.” He raised himself off Chuck’s chest again and turned on him. “And just what the fuck is that all about anyway? Who’s bright idea was it to grow another dick?” He glanced down his body towards his crotch. “It’s not like one constantly horny super cock is bad enough, I have two of these things throbbing with hot sex twenty-four-seven! What the fuck…Chuck?” He smiled at his rhyme. “Yeah, you're not the first guy with a complaint. It’s not all roses and paper hearts, is it?” “Fuck, no!” He settled back on Chuck again, throwing his hands and arms around to illustrate his frustration. “I fucking loved vagina! Tits and vagina! Sticking my dick inside a nice juicy warm comfy cunt and fucking away at that shit!” “Such language!” “I’m serious bro!” “I know bro.” “Don’t say bro. It sounds weird.” “Okay. No bro, and no reminding Barry about his love of vagina.” Barry punched Chuck’s chest. Chuck tensed up involuntarily. It was like striking a leather covered boulder. “Ow! Fuck!” “Sorry!” “Jesus, dude, what are you, made of rocks and iron?” “Yes, Barry. I’m made of rocks and iron. I shoot liquid metal out of my cock and my blood is made of lava.” Barry laughed, and then he smiled. “If you weren’t so fucking beautiful it would be easier to stay mad at you.” “Hate to break it to you but you can’t stay mad anyway.” Barry’s eyebrow arched, and Chuck said, “Just another handy dandy quirk of being partially truman. We don’t get angry. We don’t get violent. We don’t have the capacity for it.” “I get angry,” Barry argued. “I get plenty angry!” “When were you…whatever it is Tim does?” “Three days ago.” Chuck rolled his eyes. “You’re just a baby. You’ve got a lot to learn yet, my friend.” “Baby, huh? How about if I fuck you with both my baby dicks again and we’ll see if I’m ‘just a baby.’” “And you just proved my point.” “How did I do that, Superman?” “It’s why you’re horny all the time. Or most of the time.” He looked at Barry and moved his gaze down the young man’s powerful new body, focusing at last on his heavy dick, which was already throbbing and lengthening at the thought of another round of sex with Chuck. “All the time. You don’t get angry, you get horny. Your aggression gets rerouted. At least, that’s the way it’s supposed to work.” “I won’t get angry?” “Not truly angry, no. You’ll get frustrated and annoyed and bent out of shape. But you’ll ever get to a state of violence. You just won’t.” “And can I sexplode?” Chuck laughed again. “I don’t know. Have you tried?” “How would I try something like that?” “How does Tim do it?” “He just…does it. Like I said, he’s not always in control of it. Sometimes he leaks.” “He leaks?” Barry nodded. “You can…sort of…feel him. Feel his…whatever…sex. Horniness. It leaks out and sort of infects you and suddenly you’re hard as a rock and your brain is sizzling with pictures of naked beauty and you’re pulling your little stiffy out and going to town.” “Big stiffy.” “I stand corrected,” Barry agreed. “And you’re sure that’s him and not just you looking at him and thinking, fwah, I want a piece of that action?” “I told you, bro, I was totally a muff diver before…all this.” He motioned again at his naked body, now overwhelmed with muscle and honed to a state of perfect development. “Me, too.” Barry pulled himself up and pivoted. “Shut the fuck up!” He nodded. “Cross my heart. Your friendly neighborhood Chuck was a die-hard hetero before my friend Todd decided to spill his ample load all over me…or was it the good doctor who did it to me? So long ago now I hardly remember.” Barry dug his fingers through Chuck’s fur, combing its curls across the globes of his chest. “How long ago?” “Years. Lots of years and lots of guys.” He sighed, thinking about all the men who disappeared, and all his missing friends. “Tim doesn’t try to keep it a secret, then?” Barry shook his head. “Can’t, can he? First day I met him the guy made me cum in my skivvies.” Chuck laughed, folding his arms behind his head. It made his biceps swell into footballs. “Swear to God. Dude goes into the john and he’s stroking off - I can totally hear him in there, probably lubed up his joint with a gob of spit,” he paused, considering something and then looked down at his own dick as he started releasing a steady flow of lubing precum honey, “or maybe something else - and when he goes off I go off. He gets all sheepish and shit, comes out looking like he does, all muscle and cock, apologizing and feeling bad about making me have a gallon-cum fucking orgasm and I’m thinking, hell, this guy looks like some fucking gym juicer who’s gonna be shooting roids in his ass and going apeshit on me when I accidentally use his soap. Turns out he’s this little puppy dog built like a fucking tank with the friendly disposition of a Hallmark card and too much fucking sex fuel in his rockets.” He shrugged. “We kind of got along from day one.” “I’ll say it again, Barry. You? I like.” He reached up and cupped his hand behind Barry’s neck and pulled him into another patented all-encompassing Chuck-styled perfect kiss of utter passion. “Fuck dude,” Barry said breathlessly. “I could really learn to like that.” “You want some more, then?” “Only all that I can get!” He pushed his mouth against Chuck’s again and grabbed his head in his hands, slipping his strong fingers into the other man’s dark, sweaty locks as if to devour him whole. He pulled his lips away and gazed into the sea green gaze of the man under him, feeling his heat and power throbbing like a current from his muscles and cock. “Fuck.” “Again?” Chuck asked, grinning. “Who’s on top this round?” Barry leaned up on him, straddling Chuck’s frame, and started playing with the rubbery nubs of his nipples. “So what bring you to our neck of the woods, Superman? You’re living down here with Jeremy and I haven’t noticed him sprouting muscles and a second dick - oh, until my friend the Timebomb went off, of course.” “Research,” Chuck answered mysteriously. “Research,” Barry repeated. Then he grabbed Chuck’s nipples hard and twisted them like knobs on a stove top. “What sort of research?” Chuck just grinned. He enjoyed a little nipple torture - or a lot, in this case. “Top secret,” he said. “Don’t tell me after all this you don’t trust me.” “You’ll pardon an observation, but you don’t seem the kind of person who can keep a secret.” “What, you don’t want anyone to know you’re a truman?” “That’s part of it.” “What’s the rest of it?” Chuck pursed his lips and Barry renewed his nipple torture. “Oh, c’mon, I can keep my mouth shut!” “It’s…complicated.” “Is it about Timmy?” “Partially.” “You gonna transform him?” Chuck didn’t answer. “You gonna transform me?” “You want to be truman?” “Hmm, lemme think. Look like you. Fuck like you. Be like you. Yeah, that sounds awful. Of course I wanna be truman!” “There’s a cost.” He squirmed his butt against Chuck’s pelvis. “Everything has a cost.” Then his eyes narrowed. “What’s the cost?” “Loneliness.” “Loneliness? Fuck, every person I meet is gonna want to fuck me! How in the world are you lonely?” “These changes…changes to your body and your brain, changes to your masculinity, your sexuality, your strength, your appetites and capacities…these changes will separate you from everyone else. You won’t be able to be with normal people anymore, because they’ll never accept you and they’ll never satisfy you.” “I don’t get you. Look at you! You can have anybody you want! You can….” Chuck was shaking his head. “The transformation alters you radically. You think you know what it’s like because Tim changed you. But this is a ladder with several rungs above you. You’re just at the beginning. Wait until you go home and try to be with your old friends, and all you want to do is fuck them. Change them. Make them bigger like you, stronger like you. But they’ll see you as a freak. A pervert. A deviant. You think it’s hard to wear clothing now? Your body will make it so you never have to wear a stitch, no matter how cold it gets. No matter how hot it gets. This world isn’t meant for people like me. This world rejects people like me, so people like me learn to hide, and to lie, and to disappear.” “Wow, bro. Way to kill a hard-on.” Chuck laughed his warm laugh. “That’s your cost, then, Barry. You’ll never see your old friends, your family, or anyone you ever knew again.” He brushed Barry’s sweaty hair from his blue eyes. “Did you ever ask Tim about what happened when his friends started changing? What happened to him when he changed?” “Well…no…but I’m sure that….” “Maybe you should do that. Maybe it was different this time, with all these young guys. Maybe when they all started sprouting muscles and growing like weeds and were suddenly drawn to each other and making out behind the cafeteria or sucking each others’ dicks in the bathroom or buttfucking their friends at the drop of a hat…maybe it was all fine and dandy with their community. Maybe nothing happened at all.” “Maybe,” Barry agreed, though there was doubt in his voice. “But what about you? There are other trumans. Others like you. It can’t be that lonely. Right?” Chuck only sighed, and didn’t offer an answer. “You’re just being a drama queen.” “What an odd turn of phrase from a vagina-loving titty-sucker.” “I’d still go for a tight little twat now and then.” “And do you believe you’ll be able to slip that gentle beast inside someone’s little wet cave?” He looked down at Barry’s nearly foot-long monster, still drooling a stream of precum from its lovely mouth. “We’re built only for each other, my friend and gentle companion. Your cock and my ass, made in heaven and fitting like a key inside a lock. You need me as much as I need you.” “You need me?” “Or someone like you.” “Thanks for not sugar-coating it and making me feel so special.” Barry pouted dramatically until Chuck pulled himself up and kissed his mouth, pushing a thick, unfiltered cascade of pure bliss through Barry’s huge frame and earning a contented sigh and groan in return. “Awww, you DO care!” Chuck rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. It’s like you and Tim. I need someone built to take me on.” “Oh, so now you’re not only Superman, you’re Jonah Falcon, too?” “Who’s Jonah Falcon?” “The man who owns the world’s biggest penis.” “I beg to differ with that judgement.” Barry felt something suddenly poking him in the back, and realized it was Chuck’s dick. “Just how big are you?” “As big as you can imagine.” “And what’s the whole ‘take me on’ about?” “I’m too powerful now to be with normal men. Too strong. Too well equipped. My capacity for sex and pleasure extends beyond what any normal guy could withstand.” “Pull the other one.” “Stick it out there and I’ll suck it, too.” Barry laughed. “So you’re saying that if you tried doing what we just did with some Joe on the street….” “He’d go crazy.” “Crazy. Like, start giggling uncontrollably and shove out a load and…?” Chuck shook his head. “Literally crazy. Like, lose his mind crazy. I’m too strong, now. Too powerful. Even if I tried holding myself back, the level of sexual bliss I’d level on him would be too intense for his brain to handle. I’d inundate him. Drown him. Push him so far down the love roller coaster that he’d never come back.” “Well, holy shit.” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Is that why you and Jeremy never…?” “Partially.” “You want what Timmy has, and you want to use Jeremy to get it.” Chuck smiled. Barry wasn’t just good looking, he was smart to boot. “That seems devious and underhanded, except that Tim is in love with that little dude.” He wrinkled his brow. “What about me?” “You didn’t get it from Tim.” “How can you be sure?” “I just poured enough sex onto your body to light up Manhattan. I pushed every button you own as hard as I could, and if you had it you would’ve exploded for sure by now.” “Why do you want it?” “I don’t want it, but I need it.” “You don’t already have it? That’s weird.” Chuck shook his head. “Sometimes there are deviations in the development, things happen for no reason, guys develop new powers, or stronger powers. Tim happens to be one of those guys. No one else can do what he does.” “You can’t do it.” “Interestingly not at the level he can manage. I can insert pleasure into men’s minds, make them cum with a thought, make them feel like I’m….” “Make them feel like you’re fucking them when you’re just standing there.” Chuck nodded. “Tim can do that, too. Did it to me that first day. Did it to this other dude while I watched him do it. He just stands there and…does something. And you can, too?” Chuck nodded. “Then what…?” “It’s the other thing. The time bomb. The sexplosion. It’s…incredibly powerful. Powerful enough to affect me, and I’m pretty much beyond the power of anyone I don’t want to be overpowered by. I’m the king of sex - the god of sex, if there was such a thing - but your friend Tim has something even more powerful than that.” “And you couldn’t just ask him? He’s a very nice dude.” “That feeling you had when we met? You were drawn to me. You were overwhelmed by me. And that would happen to Tim, too, and then I might transform him, because I couldn’t stop myself. He can overwhelm me, and it would break the chains I keep over that roaring beast inside me. I don’t know what will happen to that power if I do that. I might erase it - and I need it.” “Why do you need it?” Chuck considered his options. Should he tell Barry what he needs, why he’s here, what he hopes to regain? Can he trust him? He looked at the beautiful, powerful, sexy young man straddling his body and said, “I want to bring my friends back.” “Where did they go?” “I don’t know.” “How can you not know?” Chuck shrugged. “Long story. And I can tell you all about it. But…do you want to keep talking, or do you want to keep fucking?” “Hmm. That’s certainly a difficult question that someone like me could spend a lifetime in contemp…FUCKING!” Barry’s twins rose to their majestic peaks and began to flow with honey as he leaned forward to kiss Chuck’s mouth, straddling the muscular behemoth and opening his ass invitingly. Chuck’s cock reached out to kiss against Barry’s pucker, its bulbous head emerging from the thick cowl of foreskin like a rosebud, his thick and veiny shaft lengthening by the inch as Chuck pushed himself inside and began to fuck Barry’s ass without moving his hips, using only the power of his body to obey his commands, making his cock swell and recede as it began spitting hard gushes of hot cream inside his lover’s super-powered body. Barry sank into a sea of pure and perfect pleasure. “What’s…?” “Are you ready for me?,” Chuck growled softly. “Are you ready for the full Chuck?” Power. Thick and heavy and all-encompassing. Sex and muscle. It was flooding into him, and Barry could feel it spreading like mercury, a hot, thick, wet sensation that spread from his belly to his chest to his arms. It flowed down his legs and into his fingers and toes. Power. More power. Unlimited power. “Am I…?” “Not yet,” Chuck told him. “I will give you everything. I will lift you up to the highest level of male power. I will give you unlimited sex and unlimited drive and unlimited strength. Nothing beyond your reach. I will teach you to fly. But not yet.” The embodiment of human male perfection. “Fuck me,” Barry said softly. Tim was back in his empty room after wandering around campus for a while. He was trying to figure out what went wrong - again. And why this kept on happening. Shouldn’t it be easier than this? Guys, like, every guy…they were practically drooling over him! All he had to do was walk into a room, put out a little Tim juice and mop them up like a sponge. Back home, hell, they were lined up to be with him. He was the Timebomb! His handsome face twisted into a grimace of curiosity and confusion. It should be so much easier than this. He sat his bulk on the bed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Why was love so…hard? He was contemplating this essential and impossible question when he heard - and felt - some rather energetic and athletic activity coming from somewhere in the vicinity of Jeremy’s room. Mingled with the sounds of heavy bodies apparently trying to break all the furniture he could discern the familiar groans and the deeply satisfied moans of profoundly realized pleasure that his roommate and lover, Barry, used with alarming fidelity. The sound was both curious and energizing. Tim felt his libido heating up as his roommate’s deeply satisfied sexual vocalizations reached into his brain and started stroking his cocks and licking his ass and kissing his mouth. Curious, because what the hell was he doing over there instead of over here? He stood up and walked down the hallway towards the sounds of his lover’s groans and rapped his knuckles against the door. “Yo, Barry?” The groaning stopped very quickly. “Bare? What are you doing in there?” “Nothing!” his friend called out in his deep, sexy growl. “Uhhh, could you open the door? This isn’t even your room.” “Yeah, I…I’m…uh…” There were whispers and soft voices, and then the door opened and Barry was standing in the doorway completely naked, coated in a sheen of sweat, and stinking of sex. He was breathing hard, his massive chest swelling and expanding, flexing the finger-thick cables of power stretching across his pecs and making his lickable, chewable nipples rise and fall. His eight-pack abdominal wall bulged each deeply defined brick of muscle and he had that wicked, anything-but-innocent smile on his handsome face that always made Tim’s blood sizzle. Both of his ample and talented cocks were jutting up from his groin, throbbing with insistent need and drooling warm honey that draped down their long necks and dripped along his massively muscled thighs and over his visibly swollen ball sack. “Hi,” he said, leaning his bulk on the door frame, one arm stretched overhead and wiping his mouth with the back of his other forearm. A heavy stink of Barry Sex came wafting from his exposed armpit and his pricks continued to flow heavy streams of delicious and lubricating pre-cum. Tim peeked over his shoulder. “What are you doing down here?” “Me?” he asked. “Doing?” Tim rose up on his toes to look over Barry’s thick and mountainous shoulders at the wreck of the room behind him. “Where’s Charles?” “Who?” “Charles.” “Well, oh, yeah, um…hey, what happened with you and Jeremy?” “Nothing. Where’s Charles?” “He had…something…he had to leave. Suddenly. And. Yeah.” “Just now?” “No. Oh, no. He left…a while ago. So….” “So…what are you doing?” “I was just…straightening up…a bit. And….” “And?” “And… um….” “What’s with the boys?” “Boys?” Tim grabbed Barry’s twins roughly and squeezed him hard. “The boys. I’ve never known you to get all hot and bothered by a little straightening up.” “Yeah… um…” Barry looked down and shook his head. “I guess I was just… I’m horny!” “Horny.” “Yeah!” That, at least, was easy to believe, because when was Barry not horny? “I heard you having sex.” “No, I….” “Barry, if anyone in the world knows what you sound like when you’re having sex, you’re looking straight at him.” “I was…jerking off!” “In Jeremy’s room.” “Yeah!” “After having sex with Charles.” “Yeah.” “For three hours.” He shrugged. “Time flies where you’re having fun!” Tim’s forehead creased and he sighed. “Well, do you need any help?” “Help?” “Straightening up? I’m kinda curious to see what it is about straightening up a dorm room that gets you this worked up. Maybe we can use that to keep our own place a bit more spic and span.” “Oh. No. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Almost done here.” Tim looked over Barry’s shoulders again and the rampant destruction and disrepair of almost every piece of furniture in the small space. “Uh huh.” Barry pushed his hand against Tim’s chest and moved him out of sight of the room’s interior. “It’ll just be a second, and then if you want to we can have some fun.” “I’m not really in the mood.” Barry’s demeanor changed almost immediately. “Oh, fuck.” “What?” “What did you do?” “Nothing. I told you.” “You fucked it up somehow, didn’t you?” “Barry, I didn’t do anything!” “Okay. Okay. We can fix this. We need to fix this.” “I don’t think he’s interested in….” “Oh, fuck no, dude. You are not going into poor pitiful me mode over one rejection.” “He didn’t…. I wasn’t….” “Look, just… go back to the room and I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Okay?” “Barry, you’re acting really weird.” “Just go back to our room, okay? We can fix this. I promise.” “I don’t….” “Back. To. Our. Room. Right now, young man!” Barry spun Tim around and slapped his ass hard, and watched his obviously confused and dejected friend walk slowly back up the hallway. “Fuck,” he said softly. Chuck appeared in the doorway. “I swear, that guy could make a prostitute have second thoughts.” Barry laughed slightly and looked over. “That was a neat trick.” “Which one? The one where I was fucking you and then I moved my tongue into….” “The one where you were suddenly not there anymore.” “Oh. That one.” “Yeah. That one. You have quite a few tricks up your nonexistent sleeve, don’t you?” Barry looked Chuck’s superhuman body up and down and sighed dramatically. “Looks like we need to call it a night.” “Looks like,” Chuck agreed. “You’ve got some work to do.” “So do you.” Chuck nodded. “Yeah. Jeremy.” “Jeremy.” “And Tim.” They both shook their heads in wonder. “Assholes,” they both said in unison. Part 14 As far as Jeremy was concerned, he had one big unspoken and unspeakable problem that underlined everything else going on in his life. To other people - most people in fact, it was probably not a very important consideration. Some might even view it as an opportunity, but inside Jeremy’s head it sat there like a wall surrounding everything else that might lead to happiness. Jeremy had never had sex. In his head, and particularly with the unfortunate circumstance of living in the vicinity of a young man who, as far as he was concerned, did nothing else but have sex all the time, this was a vital and near-incapacitating shortcoming. It was never going to be something he was likely to admit, being a virgin at the ripe old age of nineteen, when as far as he imagined everyone else around him all the time was having sex. The gay thing was kind of like icing on a very distasteful cake. He wasn’t an accidental virgin, if such a thing existed. Being shy wasn’t helpful in these circumstances, and it wasn’t like back home he had been surrounded - as it turned out to be the case in college - by beautiful, sexually active and clearly homosexual young men. But even now, given ample opportunity and sharing a dorm room with another man, handsome and sexy and gay, whose entire life seemed to consist of seducing and fucking other guys, those walls he had built were refusing to budge. Was it any wonder, then, that he found it slightly impossible that anyone - let alone two other guys - had interests in him? He knew he was bigger. That was also an undeniable fact. Since he had been hit inadvertently with a powerful dose of whatever it was that Tim exploded with and he had seen and felt his body develop new muscles where none had been, his brain had been working overtime telling him that it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference. Looking into a mirror, he still only saw Jeremy. The improvements to his face and body, undeniable to anyone else who looked at this now muscular specimen of manhood with his boyish good looks and large, beautiful eyes and the build of a collegiate wrestler (particularly his amazing muscular butt, jutting out in a most distracting manner, which admittedly was rather hard for him to see, and the way this new body filled out the shirts that were now a size or two too small for his larger, stronger frame) were easy to ignore when he looked at himself. When one talks oneself into believing that they are both unattractive and easy to ignore, those deep-seated rules are hard to dislodge after so many years. And then there was the sex thing - rather, the lack thereof. Tim was going to consider him a freak. Tim, who took to sex like a duck takes to water, was going to look at him and laugh his muscular ass off. And what if he didn’t? What if Jeremy never told him and then they were naked together - Tim’s massive, perfect, beautiful body standing there looking all massive and perfect and beautiful - and what’s Jeremy gonna do then? Fake it? Tim’s gonna know! Tim’s gonna find out! And then their whole whatever…relationship is over even before it started because why would Tim ever want to be with someone like him? Sex is…everything! And he would be bad at it, wouldn’t he? He couldn’t help but be bad at it! He didn’t want to show up at Tim’s door and be all Mr. Awkward Virgin! Not that he would ever in a million years even admit any of this, of course, because it was just too weird and embarrassing. Plus, Barry! Stupid Barry. In there with Tim every day, showing Tim what sex was really all about, having Tim’s hands all over his body, Tim’s lips on his lips, Tim’s arms wrapped around him, Tim’s body pressed against his. Stupid fucking Barry. Now he had to contend with this…constant sense of sexual need, too. The weight and heft amplifying his awareness of his newly grown and annoyingly sensitive penis was constantly demanding attention. It throbbed and tingled and swelled with frustrating regularity. His nipples were now performing some weird sexual stimulation as well, as if there were live wires going from each hypersensitive nub sending shocks of electric sex directly towards his crotch. His butt hole was even acting weird. His butt hole! He never even thought about his butt hole, before, and now he would be distracted by these…pulses or something. He’d feel his dick swell, feel those unsettling and bothersome stings of sexual pleasure and then his nipples would rub up against the tighter material of his shirt and suddenly he was deeply and powerfully aware that his butt hole felt…good. Then he would blush, and feel heat everywhere washing over him, and want very much to begin to caress his skin, run his hands over the hard mounds of muscle lining his arms and legs, reach up to rub his nipples, pinch them, twist them, to increase that sensation of electrical bliss sending shocks of powerful sex into his dick. Then his dick was throbbing, and swelling, and pushing longer inside his tight jeans, growing thick and hard and uncomfortable, making its size and hunger evident as his heart pumped blood along its new inches and inflated its plump helmet and a warm, wet sensation would envelope it after a strong tingling sizzle erupted up every millimeter of its new size, pumping another delivery of that weird, clear honey that stung his nose with its erotic scent and made him need to immediately relieve himself of these sensations of sex. It was all too frustrating and too embarrassing, and it wouldn’t stop. The cold of the night felt good. A moment’s desire to strip himself naked and allow the December wind to caress his skin was pushed aside. Where did that thought even come from? Run around the campus naked in the middle of winter? Then as he was considering its origin, the idea - NAKED - made his cock throb and his nipples tingle and his butt hole pulse. He felt hot again, hotter than before, and he paused under a lamp in the quad to pull in some calming breaths, watching his exhalations form clouds in the cold night air. He reached down to adjust himself again. He was constantly adjusting himself, now. His damned cock just would not mind its manners! It pushed and shoved and swelled and throbbed like some feral beast he could not control. He moved the heel of his hand against the firm shaft and was rewarded with some rather strong sexual tingles as his prick recognized any attention it was given. He closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath. And there was Tim in his head again. Tall, powerful, brutally beautiful Tim, standing there in the hallway with a small towel wrapped around his narrow waist, his hair wet and tangled, his silken skin shining with water from the shower, and that damnable, beautiful smile on his damnable beautiful face. There was Tim as Jeremy had first encountered him, a towering behemoth of manhood radiating sex and confidence as if this guy had stepped directly out of Jeremy’s dream of his perfect soulmate and manifested right there in the hallway before him. Jeremy’s cock, glad to be of service, sizzled and plumped and pumped a gob of precum up its several inches and left a thick wetness at its mouth, which cooled quickly in the night air. He opened he eyes and grimaced. There was nothing for it, really. He had to relieve this sensation of sexual need or he wouldn’t get any rest. It was late, and the library was closed. Everything was closed - but he sure wasn’t going to back to his own room! Fuck, no! It was cold. Coffee. Get a cup of coffee. “Listen, Jeremy, guys like that - he doesn’t want to have coffee with you.” Yeah? Is that so? No one wants to “have coffee” with Jeremy, do they, Tim? Room 302. Building C. Well, why the fuck not? Jeremy stood at the dorm room door for a good five minutes as an internal debate raged back and forth inside his head. What was he going to do? What was he expecting? Coffee? Coffee. That was a simple offer. Just get some coffee some time. Like now, right? He meant any time, right? And it was just coffee. But what if it wasn’t just coffee? What else was it? And…. The door opened and Jeff was standing there. “Hello,” he said, calmly. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of pajama bottoms, and the room behind him was dark. “Oh,” Jeremy said, “I….” Jeff smiled and wrinkled his brow. “I could hear you out here and I was wondering whether you were going to knock or just continue mumbling to yourself.” Jeff had a nice body. It was nothing at all like Tim’s, nowhere near as big and powerful and commanding. But he had a flat belly and two nicely developed pectoral plates and his skin was smooth and tanned. Jeremy could see a vein pulsing in his neck, his long, elegant neck, and a slim trail of hair erupted from his winking bellybutton and traveled south to disappear under the waistband of his blue-striped cotton pajama bottoms. There was a definite swell of something quite clearly resembling a dick pressing itself into one of the creases of the thin material. Jeremy swallowed dryly and pulled his gaze back up to Jeff’s face. “I’m sorry,” Jeremy said, and he started to turn away. Jeff reached his hand out and placed it Jeremy’s shoulder. “You okay?” Jeremy stopped. The touch felt warm on his skin. His dick pulsed and bulged. “I don’t know…what I’m doing,” he answered. Jeff said, “Okay,” and moved his hand along Jeremy’s wide, muscular back. That felt good, too. “It isn’t a test,” Jeff answered. “Just asking if you're okay.” “I should go,” Jeremy answered. “You just got here.” “You were sleeping.” “I was dreaming of you,” Jeff answered. “And then here you are.” “Did you….” “What?” Jeremy turned back. “Did you want to get some coffee?” Jeff smiled. “Sure, dude. Let’s get some coffee.” He opened the door wider and stepped back inside his dorm room. Jeremy watched as Jeff easily untied and pulled down his pajama bottoms, exposing himself fully to the other young man without hesitation and with surprising ease. It didn’t seem to Jeremy that Jeff was trying to be provocative or seductive, he simply didn’t seem to have any problems getting naked in front of another guy. Which so wasn’t Jeremy. His eyes peered into the dark room as he watched Jeff’s body move. The heat returned to his own body, and the sensation of desire. He felt his cock swell. His muscles tensed and bulged. His nipples tingled. His asshole throbbed. Jeff moved with a kind of unfettered grace and evident confidence as he pulled a pair of jeans up his legs and tucked his cock inside them. He wore no underwear and that made Jeremy feel very sexy for some reason. Jeremy always wore underwear. Didn’t everyone? But Jeff only had that pair of jeans between himself and the world, like he could just pull the button fly open and start fucking. And start fucking. Where the hell had that thought come from? “Do you see my other shoe?” Jeff asked Jeremy, standing shirtless in his slim-cut jeans and holding one Nike in his hand. Jeremy swallowed hard and felt a strong need to adjust his dick again. He shook his head as Jeff looked around, and then he was on his knees with his butt in the air reaching under his bed. His butt in the air. He had a nice butt. He had a very nice butt. Jeremy used the opportunity to shove his frustrating and distracting cock around to find some more room in his pants. It was a fruitless maneuver. Jeff planted his very nice butt on the edge of an unmade bed and shoved his feet (no socks either? was that altogether hygienic?) into his shoes. He found a light blue t-shirt on the floor and pulled that over his head (look at the way his hair arranges itself over his eyes. Jesus he has nice eyes.) and then grabbed a puffy ribbed nylon jacket and stepped into the hall beside Jeremy, standing very close to him. “Ready?” he asked. His manner was easy and relaxed. He was smiling and looked at ease and comfortable. He had no underwear on at all. Jeremy could reach down inside his pants and feel his cock. Stroke it. Squeeze it. Pull it out and welcome it inside his mouth and feel its warm stiffness. He never had a cock in his mouth, but he wanted to very much. He wanted to kiss and lick and suck on Jeff’s cock. He wanted to feel it swell and grow hot and hard and watch the veins pulse and the head bloom. He wanted…. “Let’s go get some coffee,” Jeff said. He reached his hand into Jeremy’s and they walked together out of the building, hand in hand. There was a 24-hour diner just off campus, whose sole purpose it seemed was to service the college students with greasy food and hot coffee after late studies and even later parties. Like everything else this time of year with most of the students home on winter break, no one was inside except the fry cook with his hairnet and the young woman chewing gum who said, “Have a seat anywhere, menus are on the table.” “Just coffee, thanks,” Jeff said, and then he looked at Jeremy and asked, “Unless you wanted something else?” Something else like putting my cock in your mouth and pushing my hardness down your throat until I erupt with a fat fountain of spunk. “Coffee,” Jeremy managed to say. The girl rolled her eyes but nodded, and Jeff and Jeremy walked towards the back of the well-lit restaurant to a booth. Jeff removed his jacket and tossed it easily onto the vinyl-covered bench and then slid his (righteous, tight, amazing, lickable) butt along far enough to allow Jeremy to sit down. There was room for five in the booth, but Jeremy’s new muscled bulk took up space for two. “I didn’t think you’d take me up on the invitation,” Jeff said. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other along the way. Jeff seemed to understand that Jeremy was in an odd place, and he didn’t press the issue. Jeremy was distracted the whole time by the sensation of Jeff’s warm hand in his, the familiarity and ease with which the other young man had made the gesture, and equally distracted by his body’s continuous throbs of desire and hunger. Jeremy shrugged. He didn’t look up when the coffee cups slid along the table top and Jeff thanked the waitress. He took the cup into his hands (Jesus my hands are big!) and felt the heat radiate up his arms. Jeff sipped his coffee quietly, waiting in silence with the patience of a saint. Jeremy opened his mouth a couple of time, but kept lifting the edge of the cup to his lips rather than let any words escape. He could feel his heart beating, and he could feel his dick pulsing in time to every pump. The thing was huge, now. Enraged inside its denim cage and overdue for release. He could smell Jeff’s scent beside him. Like soap and sweat. He could smell him keenly, like a predator to his prey. Jeff put his cup down and reached his hand under the table. He rested it on Jeremy’s thigh, sending warmth into his skin. The larger young man flinched slightly at the unexpected touch, and his body heated up uncomfortably. “Is this okay?” Jeff asked quietly. Jeremy didn’t have an answer for him. Was it okay? It felt okay. Jeremy shrugged again. Jeff moved his hand up Jeremy’s leg, away from his knee. It was a slow, steady move, so as not to frighten the animal next to him. “You can put your hand on my leg, if you want to,” Jeff said. Jeremy did want to, but he felt frozen. He felt like if he moved a muscle, moved an inch, something would shatter or break. He closed his eyes and pulled a deep breath into his body. His chest rose and pushed his sensitive nipples against the tight material. An electric shock of pure sex erupted and traveled at light speed directly at his dick, and he felt it swell even bigger. Jeff shifted his body to move in closer to Jeremy, touching their shoulders together. His hand moved closer towards Jeremy’s crotch. He moved his touch gently and slowly across the thickly muscled contour, and then he moved his thumb to rest it against Jeremy’s cock. “Can I kiss you?” Jeff asked him. He rubbed the pad of his thumb up and down Jeremy’s bulge. Jeremy looked over towards the cash register where the gum-chewing waitress was working a crossword puzzle. The cook in the kitchen was nowhere to be seen, maybe he had stepped out for a smoke or he was washing pots. Jeff’s hand against him, Jeff’s thumb rubbing against his dick, Jeff’s body pressing towards his, it was all driving him crazy. “Excuse me,” he said, and then he pushed himself out of the booth, his hand covering his thick and prominent bulge, and he made a beeline for the men’s room. Jeremy nearly tore the door from its hinges to get inside and hide. It was a small space with a couple of urinals and a stall, with two sinks along the opposite wall. Jeremy’s nose picked up the smell of men who had been here, and it was an odd and unexpected sensation. He could smell them, those men, smell their balls and their dicks and their bodies. He could smell piss and sweat. He felt his own cock throbbing in unfamiliar recognition, as if his dick had a mind of its own and knew what it wanted. He looked down at the thick, lengthy bulge running along his hip. Jesus, it was positively indecent! An electric sizzle of sex erupted again, and he could see his cock bulge and pump a thick flow of honey. He stumbled into the stall and locked the door behind him, pulling his jeans and underpants down to allow his 10-inch monster to spring out, glistening with pre and smelling rank and sexy. He was throbbing and growing quickly erect, adding another inch or two in length and girth as his new cock swelled to it majestic perfection. Jeff watched Jeremy practically run to the bathroom and then took another sip of coffee. With a glance at the waitress, he opened his legs to reach down inside his jeans to adjust himself, having grown uncomfortably aroused during his slow seduction. He winced as the head of his prick rubbed against the inner seams of his jeans and he funneled his prick down his thigh before sighing with relief. Fuck, that boy was big! Jeff had almost let out a laugh of surprise when he had finally managed to feel up Jeremy’s meat - and damn, that guy was packing! He sipped the bitter brew again and considered his options. One, he could follow the guy in there and help him with his obvious problem. But that would probably spook him even more when he was so damned close to getting a little action. This was one hot dude. Hot in every sense of the word. But what was the deal? Was he in that awkward exploration phase where he’s fighting his attraction and embarrassed about being with another guy? Maybe he’s been so deep inside his closet that the slim crack of light that Jeff was offering was more than he could stand. His dick certainly wasn’t shy about what it wanted, even if Jeremy was scared shitless. Maybe he was moving too fast, but goddam this boy was a sizzling plate of meat with a shank of sex in his skivvies that would choke a hooker! And that body! Muscle packed on hard and well-trained, not to mention an ass that the gods of asses must’ve reached down to bestow on this dude. Talk about mixed signals, though. And then there was that other guy - Tom? Tim? - showing up like some spurned ex practically radiating hatred for Jeff, and he hadn’t even done anything, yet! Probably all Jeremy needed was a good lay. If there was a polar opposite to Jeremy’s discomfort and inexperience with sex, it was probably Jeff. In his opinion, sex was fun! Sex was great! Sex felt good, and the more sex the better. He’d started having sex very early, and he’d had a lot of it. He liked it, and he was good at it. He never quite understood when other people had hang-ups about getting naked and getting down. He was always careful, bought condoms by the truckload and used them, too. But sex was…just sex. Two people having fun with each other. What was wrong with that? Jeff looked toward the closed men’s room door again as he thought about Jeremy. He actually did like the guy. Though how hard is it to like a guy who looks like that? There was something weirdly innocent about him. He was this huge muscled bad-ass but he acted like this small little shy dude. Again, super attractive, in that way that people who are beautiful and don’t realize they’re beautiful are. He had, like, not a single ounce of asshole in him. Guy like that, Jeff expected to be so full of himself that he’d go all alpha on his ass. Not that Jeff found anything wrong with that, he kind of liked having some big dude go alpha on his ass. The more alpha the better! And he hadn’t had his ass truly pounded in a fuck’s age. The sight of Jeremy’s ass-pounding ass came into his head again. He thought about what it would feel like to have those butt muscles shoving that fat dick inside him up to the balls and shooting cum like a cannon. Suddenly he had to readjust himself again. As usual since his growth spurt, getting off for Jeremy came really easily. The room smelled like dudes. He could tell that he wasn’t the only guy to end up in here with his hard dick in his hand. Probably dudes were in here a lot, sucking each other, stroking each other, watching each other take a piss, looking down at some other dude’s snake and licking their lips with hunger. Fuck. Where had that thought come from? That was disgusting! And hot! His slicked up dick sent hard shocks of sexual bliss through his whole body with every stroke. His balls were aching with their load and after only a couple of minutes he leaned back on the toilet, grasping the thick base of his cock in his grip and started shoving out ropes of cum that splattered against the stall door a dozen times or more. That damn cock felt even bigger in his hand than yesterday, and he knew his balls weren’t half done with him yet but he didn’t want Jeff to think that this was what he was doing in here. He opened his eyes, recovering from the deep intensity of his orgasmic explosion and looked at the wealth of cum dripping down the stall. Jeez, it looks like someone had taken a quart of yogurt and thrown it at the door! He unrolled almost an entire roll of toilet paper cleaning up his mess and his slicked up dick, flushing all the evidence away and then trying to replace his semi-firm dick back inside his pants. How on Earth did Jeff wander around without underwear on? His own was still sopping with his steady stream of pre, and he wrapped his cock in the cold wetness, thankful that it seemed to also cool his jets a bit and allow him to zip his meat inside. He made sure everything was cleaned up and then he washed his hands and went back out into the restaurant, where Jeff was waiting in the booth. Damn he looked good. Like he looked in his dorm room. With his shirt off. And the thickness of his dick pressing against his pajamas. Jeremy’s cock throbbed again. Jeff scooted back over and Jeremy sat down. His coffee was cold. “Everything come out all right?” Jeff asked. Jeremy blushed red. “Yeah,” he said, thinking of all the cum against the stall door. “Sorry if I came on too strong. You can always tell me to back off. I’m used to it.” “You do this a lot, then?” Jeremy said, then instantly regretted it. But if Jeff took offense, he didn’t show it. “A lot? I do it as much as I can. But only with someone who’s really hot and really nice, like you.” He waved to get the waitress’s attention and pointed at their cups. “I guess you don’t?” Jeremy’s blush refused to abate. “Not…as such.” “Ever do it with another guy?” God, how could he just come out and ask that?! Jeremy shook his head, not looking at Jeff. “Do you want to?” Yes! he screamed inside his head, but he just shrugged his muscular shoulders. “Well, that’s not a no,” Jeff said. Their coffee was refreshed and Jeff took a gulp. “Look, Jeremy, we can just have coffee and talk. I’m not going to lie and say that I won’t keep hoping for more. I guess that’s obvious.” “A little,” Jeremy admitted. He allowed himself a slim, satisfied smile. It was nice to be wanted. “I just…it felt like you were enjoying the attention.” Jeremy nodded very slightly. Jeff pressed on. “And I was enjoying giving you some attention.” He scooted back over again, rubbing shoulders with Jeremy. “You may have noticed that I’m not exactly the shy type.” He reached down and rested his hand on Jeremy’s thigh again. “I can just leave my hand right there, if that’s okay.” “That’s okay,” Jeremy said. “Okay,” Jeff answered, and he squeezed Jeremy’s leg slightly. “You tell me what you’re comfortable with, Jeremy, okay?” “I…” Jeff remained silent and let Jeremy dangle there. “I’m not sure.” “About what?” “About what I’m comfortable with.” “Okay. Do you want to talk about that?” Jeremy shrugged again. “Did you like when I was caressing you?” ‘Caressing’ wasn’t exactly the word Jeremy would’ve used. More like ‘groping.’ But he couldn’t deny that he liked it. “Yes,” he said softly. He still had trouble meeting Jeff’s gaze. “Can I move my hand closer?” Jeremy nodded. “Okay.” Jeff did so. A thrill erupted inside Jeremy’s chest. “You can….” “Closer?” He nodded. “Can I touch you?” He swallowed and nodded again. Jeff moved his whole hand onto Jeremy’s bulge. They could both feel him react. Jeremy’s meaty cock swelled and throbbed. Jeff gently squeezed. Jeremy’s mouth fell open and he closed his eyes. Jeff squeezed again, and was rewarded with equal facility. His face registered his surprise as he felt Jeremy’s cock react with dramatic speed and obvious happiness. “Wow,” he said softly. “Sorry,” Jeremy replied, mistaking Jeff’s pleasant surprise for shock. “Don’t apologize, Jeremy,” Jeff said, now squeezing and caressing Jeremy’s thick meat with continuous force. “That just means you’re enjoying this.” Jeremy nodded. “”Believe me, Jeremy, so am I.” Jeremy swallowed. Jeff’s voice lowered. “I can feel how big you are. I can feel how hot you are.” He moved his hand along the length of Jeremy’s cock. His fingertips began to rub against the sensitive head over and over. “I want to hold your cock, Jeremy.” Jeremy swallowed hard. “I’ve never….” He said it so softly that it was hardly audible. “You’ve never…?” Jeff tilted his head, and then suddenly everything became clear. Holy fuck! Jesus Christ! Okay, hold it together, Jeff. Don’t scare him off, now. Not when you’re so close. A dude who looks like this, with a tool like that, and he’s never? Not even once? Not even with a girl? But Jeff knew better than to remind him of all that, and send him down some silly shame spiral just because he’s never had sex. It was…kind of exciting, actually. He wondered what Jeremy had ever done with anybody else. But he could save all those questions for later. His head was spinning just a little at the thought of everything he could introduce this hot stallion to, and how much pent-up sexual energy was percolating down inside all that muscular beauty. It also meant that, if true, he wasn’t even going to need the condoms in his jacket pocket. “That’s okay, Jeremy.” The other young man looked up hopefully, and Jeff nodded encouragingly. “It’s really okay. Are you scared?” Jeremy nodded. “Okay. It’s okay to be scared. I understand.” The words seemed to sink in. Jeff could feel some of the tenseness in Jeremy’s body soften. “Do you want me to stop?” He shook his head, and Jeff nodded. Jeff’s other hand moved under the table. He began to undo Jeremy’s pants, plucking the button open and pulling the zipper down. Jeremy’s body heated up again. His cock surged with size and power. Jeff moved his caressing hand under Jeremy’s pants, over his underwear. “You’re so hot,” he said softly. “So hard and so big.” He squeezed and teased Jeremy’s massive meat, coaxing more size and length into it. Hard, insistent throbs of sex pulsed all through Jeremy’s body. Jeff pulled the elastic band of Jeremy’s shorts away from his waist and moved his hand against his pelvis. He dug his fingers into the forest of Jeremy’s pubic bush and moved the tips of his fingers in small circles. “Can I touch you, Jeremy?” He nodded. Jeff slowly moved his hand inside Jeremy’s underwear and touched the shank of his long shaft tenderly, rubbing against his hardness. He moved his hand fully under Jeremy’s shorts and rested his entire hand against his cock, feeling its enormity and heat. It pulsed and throbbed against his palm, and Jeff shook his head. He had vastly underestimated Jeremy’s size. The dude was a fucking race horse! “I’m going to hold your cock Jeremy.” “Okay,” he answered in a whisper. No one else had ever touched his cock before. He felt Jeff’s hand, the rough skin, the heat, surrounding his prick and he surged with renewed growth. He swelled in Jeff’s hand, pushing his fingers apart, and he sprung from his pants under there, the head of his cock striking the underside of the table so hard that he actually caused the coffee cups and napkin holder to move. “Holy fuck,” Jeff said quietly, shocked by the power of this guy’s hard-on, by its size and force. “Sorry,” Jeremy said. Jeff actually snickered. “Fuck, Jeremy. You’re amazing.” He moved his hand along Jeremy’s inches. It felt so good to Jeremy. It felt weird and sexy and hot to have some other guy handling his cock. He opened his legs and his cock inched forward, rubbing against the table. The sensation sent shivers and shocks of sex along its hard inches. Jeff glanced at the waitress. She was still into her crosswords and couldn’t give a fuck about what the two customers in the far booth were doing. Jeff tried to push Jeremy’s hard-on down and found its hardness and strength shocking. It felt like he was stroking an iron rod covered in silk. A small, deep moan escaped Jeremy’s throat. “You okay?” Jeff asked. “Feels good,” Jeremy answered. “It’s supposed to,” Jeff agreed. His own cock was now uncomfortably hard in his jeans. “Can I suck your dick, Jeremy?” After a few moments where Jeremy seemed to be considering the possible answers to that question, he nodded, lost in the sensations that were cascading through his muscular frame. “You need to turn sideways,” Jeff advised, “with your back towards the door.” “Okay,” Jeremy said. He reached down and grabbed his hard-on, maneuvering it and his body around like an enormous crane. Jeff audibly groaned with pleasure as his eyes met the site of Jeremy’s erection. Its mouth was drooling a stream of precum, fat veins wound along the thick shaft and the whole thing was pulsing and deeply red. He had never seen anything so sexy in his entire life. “Well,” he said softly, “this is going to be a challenge.” He leaned down, grabbing Jeremy’s cock at the base and began licking the helmet, tasting Jeremy’s salty essence and swallowing it down. He opened his mouth and surrounded the bulbous spongey head, exhaling wet heat that traveled down Jeremy’s length and made him groan. His balls were aching and his cock felt harder and bigger than it ever had before. Jeremy’s first blow job was happening in the back booth of Jasper’s Coffee House at 2:17am two days after Christmas during his first year of college. Luckily for Jeremy, he had a talented and determined fellatio artist with him, who’s hunger and desire for Jeremy’s cock was only exceeded by Jeremy’s own need for relief from the sensations of pure sex that shook his newly muscled form. Jeremy was overwhelmed with desire. He had never felt anything as strongly as he felt this. He had never known a need as deep and as crucial. Every cell in his body wanted this. His brain and cock seemed to find common ground, or maybe his brain had decided it had better just take a bit of a vacation and let his cock do all the thinking. Jeff moaned with pleasure as he went down on Jeremy’s monster. Coated in spit, he sucked and stroked the hard beast, moving his shaggy head up and down and Jeremy grasped the vinyl seat so hard that his fingers penetrated the foam. Jeff came up for air several times. Tears filled his eyes and he gasped and gagged more than once on the enormity of Jeremy’s meat. He leaned back and stroked the steel pole, watching Jeremy’s reactions with unfeigned lust, groaning with desire. Jeremy twisted his head on his powerful neck. He moaned and bucked his hips. Thick cascades of warm salty honey - unbelievable in their volume and consistency - sizzled up the beast that grew from Jeremy’s loins and draped his cock in gleaming syrup. “Gotta…” Jeremy groaned. Jeff looked up from his endeavors as Jeremy opened his eyes and looked down. “Gonna….” Jeff nodded and plunged his mouth over Jeremy’s suddenly swellin