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  1. First time posting content on this forum... Thad this story floating around on other sites for a few years now. It’s still relatively short because I don’t often have the motivation to WRITE erotica, if you know what I mean CH. 1 "Graaarrr, I need to grow BIGGGEERR!" CLASH. Two 500 lbs dumbbells flew across the fully stocked basement gym, cracking the concrete walls. "Get in here NOW babe," bellows Meghan as she slowly raises her massive 750 lbs muscled bulk off a now busted bench. Her husband Nate rushes down the reinforced concrete and steel staircase, carrying a tray of hypodermic needles. Steroids. Lots and lots of steroids. No sooner did he reach his wife, when she flexed a massive most muscular pose, roaring like a lioness as her enormous upper body exploded, her mass swelling to three times it's 'relaxed' state. Meghan's outburst had its desired effect, as her husband's erection grew. "Hurry up and inject me Natey poo, your giga-huge muscle monster of a wife needs her juice if she wants to GROW even more MASSSIVVEEE!" Nate grins, and begins the injections, one in each muscle group. As the highest quality anabolic drugs flood his wife's blood stream, Nate asks, "Do you think you've gained any inches on your arms since earlier?" Turning to the full length mirror behind her, the former Sports Illustrated bikini model appraised her muscle bound physique. Smirking, she slowly lifts her muscle bound arms to vertical, her exercise ball shoulders crushing her ears. Even unflexed, her thick, meaty, golden tanned triceps dipped 2 whole feet below her elbow. Without bending her arms, Meghan clenches her dainty, feminine fists, causing her ripped, bulging masses of pure female muscle to rise into arms 85" around. Meghan purrs in sexual delight, warning Nate of the impending erotic explosion of flesh. Like a crane, she gradually cranks her arms up, every inch her fists move upwards causing a half doze inches of solid beefy bicep to rise. Her rugby sized forearms finally collide with her biceps at a 60 degree angle. Over 3 feet of brawny bicep, combined with her massive triceps make her majestic arms 6 feet tall, far above his 5'8" wife’s head. "Measure them now sweetie!" Nate rushes to get a step ladder and measuring tape, his erection ready to burst. Standing on the ladder, Nate can't help but feel tiny next to the beastly mass of Meg. Standing 6'1, at 275lbs, Nate is no small man. A bodybuilder himself, the former college lacrosse player, and current U.S Marine Colonel was used to being in control. Placing his large tough hands on his wife’s surprisingly smooth silky skin, and feeling the steel underneath sent his control out the window. Your arms are 230" baby girl! "That it she says?" Meg pouts her luscious lips, and shakes her head causing her long golden locks to become messy. "I can't look small for my man. Just look at my pathetic little chicken wings, I'm withering away for christ sake. Hold on, let me pump some." As the uber buff Meghan walks to her weight rack, her near half-ton weight cracks the floor, each step a mini-quake. Falling to the floor from the ladder, Nate looks up at the 7 ft wide back of his goddess wife. Unable to turn her head, Meg blows him a kiss in the mirror, flashing a sultry, movie star smile. "Want to watch me GROW?...." CH. 2 In 2013, Meghan Wakefield was a sophomore marine biology major at UNC Chapel Hill. A bright young woman, with devastating beauty, and a bombshell body, she was a true southern belle, at the top of the world. She was captain of the cheering team and Class President. Her long blonde hair, perky C breasts, big bright green eyes, and long athletic legs easily got her a modeling career with Sports Illustrated. She ended u meeting Nate over Spring break 2014, in Florida. Nate, a handsome country boy, and a Harvard law student, was in town for his lacrosse teams championship. Little did they know that they're lives would be forever changed. CH. 3 Laying on the floor of his custom built basement gym, Nate had the perfect view of his perfect woman. Not four feet from him was the most massively muscular, most insanely jacked female. Make that the most muscular HUMAN ever. Only two years ago, Meg had been a fit, long legged bikini model; what stood before him now was a monstrous musclebound goddess, of giga-proportions. At a mere 5'8" tall Meg was at least 11 feet wide from exercise ball sized shoulder to exercise ball sized shoulder. Her aircraft carrier back alone was 7 feet wide. "Honeybuuun, whatchya doin?" drawled Meghan. "Quit daydreaming and pay attention. Y'all don't want to miss the show do you?" Taking slow, deliberate and quaking steps, Meg went to the far end of her dumbbell rack, her oversized oil drum thighs forcing her to waddle. "Let's see, those light 500 lbs single arm bicep curls barely warmed me up. I got to go REALLY heavy to impress my big strong Marine." Picking up a 700 lbs dumbbell in each hand, Meg turns toward the mirror and starts repping out alternating hammer curls at a blistering pace. "Oh yeah baby, ohhh yeah! LOOK AT ME! Have you ever seen arms this fucking huge? Oh god am I hot, like I AM SOOO MASSIVE I FRIGGEN LOVE HOW THICK I AM!" Rarrrrrrg! With a ear spitting roar, Meg rips out 1 more curl and with massive power hurls the quarter ton weights at the wall, embedding the steel two feet into the concrete walls."I am THE MUSCLE GODDESS! Look at these biceps, they must weigh 150lbs each! Your muscle freak wifey gained 50lbs in the last 15 minutes alone!" With a coy grin, knowing it will rial his wife up, Nate says, "Babe your arms are pretty big, but your chest and legs look a little small..." With a smoldering look in her gorgeous green eyes, the 800 lbs female behemoth growled, "I'm just getting started." CH. 4-6 So swole. So thick, so wide, so meaty. So...fucking. Sexy. Meghan was staring vainly at herself in the mirror waiting for her husband to come back with her next round of steroids. God I love juice, thought Meghan, almost as much as I love muscles. Hearing the basement door, she quickly clenched her glutes, giving Nate a spectacular view of her ass. Each cheek was the size of medicine ball. "Bet you could bounce a quarter off this ass huh babe." "You could bounce a bowling ball off that butt Meg," smiled Nate, as he began injecting the steroids into his wife's glutes, hamstrings, and calves. As Nate bent down to inject her calves, Meg suddenly raised up on her dainty feet. Nate had always been a leg man. Meghan had legs alright. Flexing down hard, Meg's calf kept getting thicker and thicker, until it was easily bigger than a basket ball, bulging a foot and a half from the back of her leg, and so wide that even with her legs spread, her calves rubbed against each other. Knowing she had him now, Meg cooed, "Just wait until I actually do some lifting before you cum all over my beyond huge calve." " But let me pump up my sexy little quads first okay pumpkin?" The mere act of dropping back down to her feet caused a massive shudder to rattle the gym. Walking to the squat rack was more difficult than it should have been, given the insane mass of her planet shaking quads. "Ohhh wow does that feel good. I just love knowing my weight alone cracks reinforced concrete. Imagine what would happen if I actually tried, imagine the POWER I posses. Taking her place in the squat rack, Meg unracked the bar and raised it to her shoulders. She was so wide that Nate had to specially build the entire set up, and the bar was made of 4" diameter titanium. Every inch of the bar was filled with 200 lbs weights, bending the super strong bar. 20 plates total plus the 200 lbs bar meant Meg was about to squat 4200 lbs...Jeesh, thats as much as my truck Nate realized. "Hey stud, get a load of this." Meg was so built, she couldn't even reach proper form, her ultra huge hamstrings and ass slamming into her lower legs preventing her from going lower. "2 tons is sooo taxing on my tiny little legs Nate. Can you 'cum' spot me pleeasse." As he went behind her, Meg yelled, Never mind, just kidding! And proceeded to push the weight up over her head, holding it there, and with a massive grunt, heaved the entire 4200 pound bar up, sending it through the ceiling and into the next story of the house. "Dammit, there is no weight in this house capable of quenching my thirst for pump. There is no weight on EARTH that my genetically superior mega muscle won't lift. I am UNSTOPPABLE!" Nate was worried now, he'd never seen her this way. "Baby I am the strongest woman in the universe!" "Just think about my power, my strength. All I want is MORE MASS. MORE POWER. MORE MUSCLE! Measure my legs before I work my beastly chest!" Slightly unnerved at the dominating tone, Nate grabbed the tape.He literally couldn't fir his hand between Meg's thighs, there was just that much beef. Each redwood thigh was 5 feet wide and almost as thick as he was. " 270" quads must be a record hun!" "Hey babe. Measure my calves before I squish you like a pancake between these record breakers." "115" calves! Holy shit!" From his knees, Nate looked up to try and see his wife's expression, but could only see her chest. Meghan suddenly laughed, her entire body swelling with new found beef as she inhaled more and more air. "The power the strength, the mass! What a rush!" she screams as she plows a fist into wall. Nate falls on his back, now afraid. His wife just put a 3 foot deep crater into walls built to survive a nuclear explosion. Lifting her foot, Megan slams it down between Nate's legs, sending cement flying with a massive boom as her leg is buried to her knee. "Take a good look at this monster leg you skinny little runt. See the size difference? You are NOTHING compared to me! I could tear you to shreds!" Meg strides to the weight rack again, sinking deep into the floor with every step."This will blow your mind!" Bending over, she grabs the rack, and LIFTS THE ENTIRE THING UP TO HER WAIST. "See my power? Just think what 300" arms can do! No, watch what they can do!" With an orgasmic roar, Meg begins curling the 3 ton rack to her chest. Her now uber pumped biceps only manage 6" before they meet her now truck tire forearms. "You think this is heavy? You think this is as big as I can get? You think I'm fucking big now ?" " Well I'm going to school you in the personification of ENORMOUS!" Taking a deep breath that expands her mass by 50%, she violently throws the rack into the wall, causing massive destruction and shacking the entire foundation. Flexing a jaw dropping crab pose, Meg orders Nate to get the rest of her steroid supply."Got to get bigger bae, the only thing I want is pure mass. Pure muscle. I must weigh 1,000 lbs, but the body you see before you now is a 90 lbs weakling compared to whats next." Throwing her head back in ecstasy , Meg roars, "I WILL GROW EVEN BIGGER!" Shit, shit, shit, Nate mutters to himself as he sprints up the basement stairs at a break neck pace. Bursting into the kitchen, he races towards the double door fridge where Meghan's steroids are kept. Might as well grab it all, he says to himself, as he picks up 22 syringes of a secret, experimental steroid designed by the DOD. Nate cringes as he here's more concrete crack; knowing the bill to repair today's damage will put a decent dent in his savings. I guess that's the price to pay for having the worlds hottest wife. Turning to the door he looks down toward the end of the hall where the dust is still settling from a 4,200 lbs weight shooting through the floor. Nate almost falls down the stairs as the entire house rumbles and shakes. "Rarrgggg! HAH, puny steel! Feel the power of my super pumped muscles!" Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Nate sees Meghan flexing over what was previously the dumbbell rack, only now it looks like an accordion, shoved deep into the foundation. Dear lord, it took 6 of my men to to lug that down here last month... "Honey bunches! Oh look, more juice! Is that for me? Ohh, you shouldn't have!" "Look honey, look at that pathetic piece of crap you call steel. Weaker than butter if you ask me Get to the injections, I just love how I feel right now. Like, I'm literally 4 times the size of you! My strength is superhero shaming, but my size is the real turn on." Raising her arms out like the goddess she is, Meg whispered, "Make me grow my king." Nate's more than happy to oblige. Five minutes later, he takes a step back, stepping around the now empty syringes, kind of looks like a heroin addict lives here, he thinks. Almost like she could read his mind, Meg coos, "I'm a muscle obsessed, steroid junkie addicted to getting bigger, gaining more and more massive muscles is all I think about. I'm by far the largest bodybuilder history has ever known. My bicep alone is bigger than Jay Cutler's entire body. And just think babe, I'm not done. No. Not even close. In fact, look at this." Stepping on the heavy duty scale in the corner; that he'd bought from the local zoo (to weigh elephants, rhinos etc...), she sent the numbers on the screen reeling. 700lbs. 850lbs. 1000lbs. 1200lbs. Good lord, Nate mumbles. Finally, the readout stops at 2050 pounds."Just think Nate. Your mega massive muscle wifey weighs over a TON! And I just took even more roids! Grrrg! Roooaaar! More! Yeeeess, I can feel myself growing, I can feel myself getting heavier! Just flexing is adding serious mass. I AM POWER! LOOK AT ME NATEY POO, I JUST GAINED 100 LBS FROM FLEXING MY ARMS! You better run for your life, because this house is comin down y'all." CH. 7 It was approaching dawn when the entire gated community of Orchard Heights shook to its foundations. Raaaarrggg! Mother fucker get bigger!!!! Megan bellowed as she again slammed the mangled remains of Nate’s trucks together. She’d been repeating this motion for well over 4 hours now, trying to work her monstrosity of a chest. Meghan was getting angrier and angrier with ever “rep” as each 10 foot wide pectoral would swell immensely and crash into each other with enough force to create a sonic boom. Her chest stuck out 14 feet in front her so it was impossible to do a normal bench press. That and her biceps which were each pushing 6 feet WIDE and even thicker. Her bicep alone was almost 200” flexed. Her tricep was 2/3 bigger!!!! Her muscles were not ripped, or shredded, or any other word that could describe a human being. She’d long surpassed that species. The definition between muscle groups was insane. Sickening. Her shoulders were so jacked that when she raised them a mere 6 inches, her head was at risk of being sheared right off. She liked the pressure though. It wouldn’t be impossible to create diamonds if you placed a lump of coal between her striations. In her hands, she had taken two military hummers of Nate’s, grabbing the bumper of each one and swinging them in together to simulate the pec deck motion. Only she was single handled swinging a 7,700 lb armored vehicle by its bumper. (The US Army took some pride in that engineering marvel) Nate had once seen a strong man take one end of an Olympic barbell and raise it straight out in front of him. He held it horizontally with one hand for maybe minute before his arm shook and he dropped it. The exercise worked stabilizers and forearms etc.. Meghan was doing a similar movement. With 8 plus tons. Meg’s bright white and pink, size 6 Nike Shoxs and thick pink hooters slouch socks were planted firmly on the pavement, which itself was no longer very firm, considering a woman who weighed more than an African elephant was pressing down on it with immense strength and power. Her insanely tight white yoga pants that could cover a circus tent, despite barley serving on her, were stretched so tight that her deeply tanned skin shown through completely. The military had wanted to design a new material similar to Spandex, that would be bullet proof and tear resistant. When Nate had heard about it, he figured Meg would be the perfect test for the material. Her monster quads and hamstrings were slowly but surely bulging so massively that the thread was coming unstitched. So much for that, better luck next time DOD. Freakishly inhumanly thick traps throbbed far above her head, they peaked more than a yard above her hair. Her shoulders, pecs, and traps already enveloping her head, each rep smooshing her almost to point of strangulation and blocking her entire view. All she could see when her arms were raised was her own musculature... and as far as she was concerned, there simply wasn’t enough of it. With her arms straight out holding the trucks, her triceps dipped low. Hanging like a side of beef was incorrect...her triceps were bigger than the whole cow! Hanging so low they merged with her “wide as a barn door back. Once again, misleading because her back was bigger than a whole barn! Much bigger! Her back was pushing 30 feet wide at this point. That’s 360 inches. 914 cm. Bigger than an entire Mr. Olympia lineup combined. And then multiplied by two! With her biceps peaking over her head and her triceps dropping so low they hit her knees (they literally pressed down into her massively exaggerated wide hips and quads) she would take a deep breath and then tense her enormous chest muscles, bringing her arms as close together as possible and really squeezing her pecs. The sight was ridiculous. The noise was deafening. The air sizzled with the heat of her raw sexual, beastly power and mind warping size. Sweat glistened and dripped flowing down the huge cuts in the chest muscles, turning to steam in the brisk morning air of New England. Pure raw power. Pure sex. Pure MUSCLE. The quiet gated suburb of Orchard Heights was alive with the sound, sights and smells of Meghan Wakefield erotically pumping her massive muscles. Held in her deceptively dainty well manicured hands were two military humvees weighing 4 tons each. “Fucking look at me and tremble you scrawny bitches, look at this power this size! MY power! MY size! Im unstoppable!” I AM POWER! I AM MUSCLE! I’m the most insanely pumped up, super humanly strong, mega-ultra-super-heavy weight bodybuilder! I am the most muscular living thing to ever exist or ever will! Worship me as I obsessively pump myself even more massive!” Meghan roared, to nobody in particular, but yet for all the world to here. Of course, the neighborhood had been evacuated hours ago when the “earthquake” struck. Or at least that was what the news was calling it. Technically, there WAS an earthquake, or better yet, a “Megha-quake” if you will. After destroying the basement, Meghan’s roid- induced mania and wild, driven desire to bulk up went into overdrive. Against Nates adamant pleas to calm down, Meg had pulverized the entire basement and house when she tried to exit the basement. Walking up the stairs proved unsuccessful as her giga-weight was so heavy she completely crushed the heavily reinforced concrete and steel stairs when she stepped on them. The futility of the construction had enraged Meghan and she hulk smashed the stairs into crumbling bits. With hellfire in her eyes, Meghan had turned full on to Nate and flexed an ab and thigh pose so huge that her quads and chest actually knocked him over. Roaring with spit flying, she’d proceeded to crank her arms up and down over and over again, squeezing and flexing her monolithic traps and shoulders until they were bright red. Then she spied the old weight rack in the corner where Nate kept his weights. Giggling like a crazed school girl, Meg pounded her way to the rack and proceeded to upend it with one arm. Maneuvering her other arm into position, she hurled it across the room like a soccer player might do with a ball. A steal I-beam floor hoist was torn from the ceiling and sparked another idea. “Babe, I’ve always hated that you built this house with such roomy ceilings, it really makes me feel short. But I think I know how to even the score. Watch my fucking power babe! Meg ripped the I beam the rest of the way out of the ceiling and started swinging it over her head like a club, tearing through the floor and utterly demolishing the rest of the house. Nate cowered in the corner to avoid being hit by all of his nice things that were now falling hazardously around him from upstairs. To say he was scared shitless at this point was an understatement. Meg had gone completely off the rails and was a literal ton of roid-raging muscle and fury. (If not more). Who are we kidding, it was way, way WAY more. At some point Nate must have lost consciousness from fear/arousal because when he woke up, he was covered in concrete dust surrounded by remnants of what was once his beautiful home. Meghan was no where in sight but he could hear her animalistic, predatory grunts from the front yard. Nate quickly pulled out his phone to contact his security team at the Pentagon. Things were going bad fast. Worriedly wondering why Meg was grunting, he’d no sooner heard his office secretary answer when the quake hit. Knowing better, Nate wobbled over to the massive hole in the basement wall to see Meghan standing in the driveway with his Porsche flattened at her feet. She’d managed to jump (who knows how high) and came down like the hand of god on his prized 911. Still on the phone, his secretary was going crazy, “Oh my God, Sir, are you okay what’s going on omg!” “Wake up SecDef and alert Homeland and the President... not sure how this will end. And I want this area under an immediate mandatory evacuation order.” Now recovered from his shock, Nate was beginning to get royally pissed. His million dollar home was destroyed. His $150 super-charged Porsche was now a candy apple red pancake and he was pretty sure his insurance didn’t cover “acts of enraged muscle monster?” “Meghan Marie, calm down right now!” Nate bellowed her middle name in anger. (Maybe yelling at your girlfriend who weighs more than your HOUSE was a bad idea in hindsight.) Not bothering to turn around, Meghan’s voice effortlessly boomed, “you are an insignificant RUNT compared to my awesome godly power and I could literally rip you into pieces. I won’t because I love you obviously but it would be this easy.” She picked up the flattened Porsche and ripped it in half like paper, her biceps and forearms bulging and growing and thickening even further. “To make it up to your goddess you will worship at my feet and tell me how huge I am.” It had been around that time that Marines from Nate’s unit arrived and evacuated the street. The neighbors were being debriefed and fed the official story of “just an earthquake.” Of course, 2.0 earthquakes weren’t totally uncommon in New England but still.
  2. “Please, Sir. I need it, Sir.” Zach eyed me with eager anticipation, kneeled on the floor in front of me. His chest heaved slowly with each breath, pecs shifting beneath his string tank in slow, languid waves. I feigned disinterest. “Show me how much you need it, boy. Let me see my property.” “Yes, Sir. Thank You, Sir.” Zach stood and took a few steps back, smirking cockily. “This is all Yours, Sir. Thank You, Sir.” He turned so that his back faced me, hitched his thumbs into the top of his too-tight sweatpants, and slid them down towards his knees. Full, round, slightly-striated glute muscles appeared, framed by the thin line of a white spandex jockstrap. Hamstrings bulged, pulling skin tightly away from the present-but-invisible tear-drop heads of sprint-cyclist quads. Below the knee, rippling calf heads fought for space as they twitched slightly. Fully bent-over, Zach’s muscle definition was pulled into high relief, the entire chain of muscle easing into a gently-stretched position. Zach kicked the sweats away from his ankles and straightened up again, grabbing at the tank top to remove it. Horseshoe triceps asserted themselves as he grabbed the top from its bottom and pulled it over his head, making the muscles of his mid-back dance as he squeezed his shoulder blades together. He flared his lats as he eased the royal blue top upwards, transforming his upper body into a topographical map of steroid-fueled manhood. Tossing the string tank to the side, he swung his arms into a double biceps pose and flexed. As individual bicep heads snapped into peaks he turned his head to the side, so he could see me, and winked. Despite my intention to stay objective in my appraisal of my boy’s body, I broke into a proud grin. “Thank you for this back, Sir. Thank you for giving me these shoulders. Sir, this ass is yours to use at any time.” He brought his arms down and turned towards me, his pulsing erection revealing the failure of the thin spandex jockstrap as a containment device. As he moved, waves of striation rippled across his chest, and his skin slid effortlessly over flexing abdominals and obliques. He clocked my reaction. “All of me is yours, Sir. I feel heavy and powerful, Sir, and every ounce of it belongs to You.” His right hand slid up to his chest, unable to cover the full pectoral completely. He tweaked his own nipple before sliding his hand down the shrink-wrapped terrain of his core. “Top to bottom, Sir.” He flexed his legs muscles, bringing his incredible quads into high relief. Running his hand down the outside of his leg, he attempted to squeeze his hand closed but found utterly no give in the titanium-hard muscle. His cock throbbed in heartbeat rhythm. “Please, Sir. I need it. Grow me more. Make me unstoppable. I want to be invincible for You, in service to You. I want to be your trophy. Please, Sir.” I stepped forward, placed on hand on my boy’s heaving chest, and relished in the warmth of steely muscle under my palm. I looked him straight in the eye. “I’m so proud of you, boy. You’ve done everything I ever asked of you. And look how far you’ve come.” I slid my hand from Zach’s chest to his side, gripping his lat muscles briefly before gliding across fjords of intercostals towards the front of his jockstrap. Zach leaned into my touch. My fingers slipped into the fabric of his jockstrap and wrapped around his cock, which immediately began to leak. Zach shuddered an intake of pleasurable breath and bucked his hips forward. “Please, Sir. Please.” Grinning, I brought my other hand out from behind my back. “Is this what you need, boy?” I brandished the syringe I’d been concealing. Two CCs of pale green liquid could be seen inside it. Zach’s cock throbbed in my hand, giving all the response I needed. This was not the usual, nearly-colorless oil Zach was used to, though. This was the last step in a long, long journey. We’d come a long way from his first days as my trainee. -------- “Please, Sir. I need it, Sir.” Zach sat perched on all fours, naked but for the leather collar around his neck and the thin Under Armour jockstrap that framed his slightly-spread ass. HIs skinny arms and legs - lean but utterly undeveloped - quivered with anticipation. “You know what this means, boy. Five workouts a week, under my orders, no matter how tired you are.” The heavy chain I’d connected to his collar was cold in my hand. I wrapped it around my bulging forearm and slowly pulled Zach’s face close to mine. “You’re going to hate it at first. But you’re mine, and I will make you huge for me.” “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” In contrast to the rest of his body, his cock was hard and throbbing against the confines of the strap. “I want to be your massive muscle bull, Sir. Let me grow for you. Let me show off for you.” “Good boy,” I purred and kissed Zach deeply. He pressed in close, eager to worship. That was how it began, almost five years ago. Like many boys before him, Zach had come to me with an offer of service and a desire to be transformed into a muscle fantasy. Unlike other boys, however, Zach proved an eagerness and dedication that I had never seen before. Most boys dream of getting huge but don’t have the chops to make the transformation; they start with passion, but when the thrill of exercise gives way to the grind of working out and recording progress and eating according to strict guidelines, they lose determination and, eventually, interest. Zach, on the other hand, became addicted to the iron. Early gains motivated him, and he successfully developed the habit of lifting first thing every morning. Four weeks of training became three months, under a program I designed for him. Weekly measurements and photos let me show him how well he was doing. At the three month mark, I showed him the visual evidence of how far he’d come -- definition in the shoulders, improved posture, the light outline of abdominal muscles, and the subtle sweep of growing quads -- and this ignited his desire even further. We moved to six days a week of training, periodized and planned to keep his body building, and he never faltered. At every step of the way, he thanked me for mentoring him. He’d come back from the gym, eager to flex for Sir, and I’d be made rock-hard by the way his increasing confidence aligned with his progress. He marveled at the way his body responded to the work, giddy at the sudden awareness of the fullness of his biceps, the heaviness of his own chest, and the appearance of striations and veins in his arms and legs. By the six month mark, his transformation was impossible to hide, and his cockiness had begun to take root. He started wearing tighter shirts in public; skimpier underwear in private. His gym gear, once replete with loose sweatpants and long-sleeve t-shirts, was gradually subsumed by leggings, compression shirts, and body-hugging tanktops that showed off his progress. I began to order him to wear his gear outside the gym, always with his leather collar visible so I could assert ownership of my trophy and show it off. The appreciating looks and jaw-dropping stares only motivated him further, and when I ordered him to show off for an admirer he’d pose and flex, peppering his self-worship with proud utterances of “thank you for this body, Sir!” Despite every expectation that the thrill of Zach’s early gains would be swapped for the unending pain and grind of more advanced weight training, my boy never demurred and never faltered. It was clear that I had created a monster, and by the twelve-month point, Zach was starting to look like one: rock-hard, chiseled, and cover-model ready. My boy had earned it. It was time for the next phase. -------- Zach eyed the syringe hungrily, his eagerness to get this new shot only barely masking his unarticulated question about the oddly-green elixir that would enable the next phase of his transformation. I grinned, brandishing the syringe and marveling at his inability to tear his eyes from it. He was practically salivating. “It’s time for the next step, boy. You’ve been perfect, haven’t you?” I purred. “Yes, Sir. I have been a perfect boy, Sir.” He tensed slightly, snapping his entire body into even tighter relief. Striations rippled across his chest as his pecs tightened. “I am so proud to be Yours. I’m ready for what comes next. I want to make The Hulk look puny, and I want to serve You with every ounce of it, Sir.” “You will have that soon,” I answered. “You’ve made me so proud, boy. You’ve taken such good care of my property.” I pulled my own underwear down, freeing my own throbbing cock from its confines, and cupped my balls with my free hand. Zach’s attention stayed fixed on the syringe - he wanted it so badly! “You’re probably wondering why this shot looks different, boy.” “Yes, Sir.” “It’s an extraordinary blend, boy. And rare. I may never get hold of it again. I’ve been hanging on to it for a couple years now, waiting for the right boy to share it with. And you are the right boy, Zach. You are my muscle beast.” “Thank you, Sir! I want to be the very best boy for You. You own me completely, Sir. I owe all this to You.” He pulled a most muscular, grinning cockily, and winked at me devilishly. “Give yourself credit. You’ve worked very hard for me, boy. It is such a pleasure owning you and growing you. You deserve a big reward.” Zach practically danced in place. He was quivering with excited anticipation. His eyes broke from the syringe for just a moment and met mine. “Thank you, Sir. I have worked very hard. I am so, so ready, Sir.” “You certainly are,” I said, returning my attention to the syringe. Zach followed suit. I slowly rotated the barrel, fixing it between my fingers with my thumb on the plunger. “It’s time,” I said and brought my hand down sharply. The needle slid effortlessly into my right testicle - no more painful than any other injection - and I pushed the plunger. I gasped an “oh fuck” as my testicle protested the invasion, but the barrel emptied quickly. Pale green fluid drained from the syringe. I withdrew the needle, testicle aching with the pressure of its new cargo, and capped the needle. Zach’s expression faltered, disappointment flooding across his face. “I… I don’t understand, Sir. I thought--” “You thought wrong, boy. This one’s for me. But I think you’ll still like it.” Warmth and pain began to radiate through my groin, the pressure from the right testicle rapidly spreading throughout my scrotum and into the throbbing shaft of my penis. I could feel the weight of my nuts increasing in my palm, and looked down to see them slowly begin to expand. Heartbeat by heartbeat they throbbed larger, first to egg-size and then to tangerine; fighting for space within my nutsack as they throbbed to the size of oranges. As they grew my cock throbbed in unison, stretching upwards and outwards as it slowly extended a few inches past its normally-erect size. “That’s amazing. May I worship, Sir?” Zach’s breathing quickened as he watched my cock grow. “No, boy. Just wait,” I said, bucking forward as waves of pleasure crashed across my groin. My cock swelled in girth to match the slow expansion of my testicles, continuing to reach outwards like a divining rod towards my waiting boy. The changes slowed to a stop after a moment, leaving my genitals buzzing in slow, rhythmic pulses. I turned my attention once more to Zach, stepping in to cradle his head and embrace him with a kiss. We lingered and Zach, well-trained, resisted the urge to caress my hardness. I pulled him close and ground myself against his lower abs instead, feeling my cock glide against the warm cobblestones of his torso. “Please, Sir,” Zach said. “I need it.” I pulled away slowly. “Yes, you do. It’s time for the real injection, boy.” I looked down at my massive, enhanced cock. “You know what to do.” “Yes, Sir,” Zach barked. He dropped to all fours. “Thank you, Sir.” He turned slowly, put his forearms on the floor, lowered his massive upper chest and propped his perfect, muscular ass in the air. ------------- After twelve months of training, it was time. “You ready for your first injection, boy?” Zach had just come home from the gym and stood, heaving, in my doorway. His leggings and compression shirt were soaked with sweat, leaving them only translucent enough to hint at the muscle underneath. In response to my statement, he dropped his gym bag and widened his stance slightly to show off how strongly his cock approved of the idea. At the six month milestone, I’d told him that a full year of dedicated, hard training would get him to a place where I’d be willing to juice him and turn him from a submissive stud to slave-monster. In the past year, Zach had progressed further than I imagined. There was so sign of the lean, thin boy that came to me; in his place stood a physique-model piece of submissive fuck meat. Despite his unbelievable success, though, it was clear he was nearing his natural limit… which meant it was time to take his training to the next level. I administered every shot of Zach’s first cycle, injecting 500mg a week of testosterone into his growing muscle. When the hormones kicked in at about six weeks, Zach’s strength exploded, and his muscles began to grow with renewed vigor. LIke his previous advances, this gave him an immense boost of motivation: we increased his training volume, increased his food intake, and let the injections support the hard work. He served me flawlessly, begged me for every shot, and thanked me for every CC of oil he received. Twelve weeks later Zach had put on almost 20 pounds, and it looked like he’d keep most of it, in spite of the water weight. His traps, shoulders, and arms mounded up on top of new growth in his pectorals and lats. He began to take on a classic bodybuilder stance due to his inability to get his arms flat against his sides. Heavy squats and deadlifts sped up the bubbling-out of his ass, creating a shelf on top of extensive quads, thickening inner thighs, and assertive calf muscles. His confidence increased to the point where he no longer needed to be asked to flex for me after the gym: he’d dash home after a workout, eager to show off his pump and his new growth. His posing and cocky flex-shows turned me on and almost always led to him being used… which he loved. The submissive monster I’d created literally became a submissive monster on steroids: after an incredible first cycle we moved to stacks that included deca, mast, and tren. The hormones let Zach train and grow like he did when we first started, and within another 18 months, he was leaving humanity behind. My boy was becoming my massive, vascular, unstoppable beast, and I couldn’t have been happier. Then again, I still had one new trick up my sleeve. ------------ My groin felt like a loaded weapon, with the special sauce serving as the ammunition. The military lab I’d been working at was shut down a few years ago - a victim of not being productive enough. The concoction I’d been working on had been neatly forgotten, but only because the lab was shut down before I’d filed my first reports on its development. Like Zach himself, the formula was performing better than expected. The taste I’d given myself gave me the presence and power to attract boys like Zach to my service, but I’d saved the Big Dose for the right boy. My heart raced as I lubed up and prepared to make my boy my inhuman muscle fantasy. “Almost there, boy. It’s time for your next evolution. Grow for me.” My enhanced cock, leaking and buzzing with electricity, thrust slowly into Zach, relishing the sensation of its augmented length as it probed deeply into his ass. My hips pressed into his backside and he involuntarily pushed back, trying to get me in deeper. “Oh fuck,” he moaned. “Thank you, Sir… Make me your beast, Sir.” “You feel amazing, boy. As usual.” I pulled back, placed my hands along Zach’s sides, and thrust slowly forward again. The give of his asshole, augmented by the wave-like buzzing that was rolling through my cock, stood in contrast to the impossible hardness of his lower back muscles. I set up a slow, deliberate rhythm, falling in line with the ebb and flow of the buzzing in my genitals. The pleasure was immense - like nothing I’ve ever felt before - and my cock felt massive inside my boy. Below me, Zach wriggled and moaned with excitement and pleasure. “Make me huge, Sir. I want to be your muscle bull. I wanna be massive for you, Sir. Your muscle slave. Fuck, you feel good…” The thought of Zach growing even more massive brought me close to the edge, but my enhanced cock held on, pushing the roller-coaster of pleasure to all-new heights. It built with every thrust, past the point of my usual limit, and continued to mount with push after push. My brain flooded with euphoria. My heart raced with anticipation. Every muscle fiber in my body braced for the inevitable release as the electric buzzing in my groin streaked across every square inch of my skin, making my hair stand on end. Overwhelmed with pleasure, my breath caught in my throat. Everything went briefly silent; then with one slow, final thrust all of the pleasure and pressure released deep inside Zach. I roared as my cock exploded. Volley after volley of cum came forth, filling my boy with a load more massive than anything I’d ever created. I kept thrusting, and the cum kept coming. Beneath me, Zach spoke up. “Sir, I feel.... Wow…. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SEED, SIR….!” Overwhelmed by his own sense of pleasure, my boy’s cock also began to shoot in huge streams. Zach tensed his back and roared. HIs ass clenched around my still-thrusting, still-cumming cock. Beneath my hands his back muscles began to roll and bulge, rippling beneath my hands. This was the catalyst. The serum was active and working - fast. “Sir, what’s…? It feels so good….” He turned his head as he lifted one arm, feeling flesh move beneath his skin. He flexed and watched his bicep swell, the already-separated heads splitting even further into massive, sharp peaks. From my perspective, still thrusting in spite of myself, his tricep heads flashed into higher and higher relief, first appearing as though the skin was vacuumed over the flesh, then growing and multiplying as if though they could pull away from the bones of his arm. Bands of muscle wrapped around his shoulder, capping it like a topographic globe of power and strapping to a thickening upper back and rising traps. Beneath me, the muscles of his ass rippled and thickened, standing out as a bulwark against the shore of heaving, growing back muscle. I could see that Zach’s other arm, still holding him up as I fucked him, was likewise engaged in freakish growth. “Oh, Sir… thank you…” Zach’s voice lowered to a resonant rumble. He bucked up slightly and adjusted his kneeling stance, exposing hamstrings that had doubled in size, paired with quads that would have made Robert Forstemann weep with jealousy. Thick veins ran down his legs, chasing their way to calf muscles that had swollen with unimaginable size. Inside Zach, my cock seemed to have finally stopped its torrent. I pulled out. “Good boy,” I encouraged. “Grow unstoppable for me. Be my muscle beast.” “Yes, Sir,” came a low rumble, and Zach sat up to show me my handiwork. His muscles had grown to inhuman proportions, and his skin was red with the strain of containing the mass that was pouring onto his frame. An impossibly-small waist exploded upwards and downwards into a mass of flesh that I could only describe as “Hulked-out-Superman” -- mounds of thick meat covered every inch of his body. Zach’s arms were forced out from his sides by still-increasing lats; his traps were pressed against the sides of a thickening neck; his arm muscles were like a collection of bowling balls impinging on ham-hock forearms. His legs were forced apart by thighs almost as thick as his upper back, individual heads of hamstrings and thighs swollen and threatening to tear loose from his body. He got off the bed, struggling to accommodate his own incredible size and the new way his body moved. He stood and turned to me, displaying an impossibly-thick chest fronted by massive, fleshy shields of pectorals, abdominals, and an Adonis belt that plunged down into his hips. “So… tight, Sir… can barely move. But… this is ama--” Zach’s basso profundo caught in his throat as his entire body seemed to seize. A look of shock crossed his face as cracking noises began to emanate from his arms, legs, and torso. With an even louder bellow, my muscle beast began to stretch taller. “Hang in there, boy. Almost done. Come here.” I sat at the head of the bed, propped against the wall, and invited him to come to me. Like a puppy unsure of how his own body worked - arms and legs slowly lengthening, epic muscle mass stretching and smoothing out just slightly - he clambered on to the bed, filling it and making it protest under his enormous new weight - and set himself in my lap. I wrapped my arms around him - as best I could since my boy was now even more massive than me and still growing - and massaged him as his torso continued to elongate. I ran my hands over titanium-steel muscle fiber, caressing his pendulous chest and feeling the deep grooves of his striated shoulders. He stretched under my embrace, exploring the new length of his arms and legs and relishing in the heft of the endless muscle that now enveloped his body. My body. My muscle boy. “Thank you, Sir,” Zach breathed, finally relaxing. He melted into my embrace, and the weight of him against me made my cock stir once more. I nuzzled the back of his neck and kissed him gently. “You’re going to love your workout tomorrow morning, boy. It’s a good thing all that spandex stretches… but we’re going to have to get you some new gear.” “Fuck it, Sir,” Zach said. “Let them see me lift naked. What will they do if they don’t like it? I’m Yours, and I’m unstoppable.” I grinned. “Yes you are, boy. You definitely need a bigger collar, though. A much, much bigger one. And I’m going to have to work to find chains you can’t just pull apart with your bare hands. Would you like a new collar, boy? Are you ready to continue the work?” “Please, Sir,” said Zach. “I need it.”
  3. MrDream

    A Bull Of A Man

    1 The faint sound of thudding footsteps drew closer, then the doorbell rang. Steve knew who it was, there was only one other person who shared apartment in his home since the private gym had been set up in garage. He eagerly opened the front door and made way for the muscular gym fanatic to enter in a hurry. "Remember, big guy, yesterday was your last rest day. From now on we need to keep you pumping iron and eating non stop" The pair of young men stood and looked into each others eyes for a moment as the door closed behind them, automatically locking and sealing the chaos of the outside world away from their isolated slice of heaven. The newcomer smirked back and ruffled his crew cut hair with one hand "I already am a bodybuilder, it you who need to be told to force feed me lock me in the gym" They kissed once, and with arms around each others slender waists, they strolled to the kitchen to view the dinner that steve had prepared for himself being totally overshadowed by the massive feast Steve had also prepared for his best friend Brad. It was a bodybuilders feast of high protein and carbohydrate healthfood topped off with a huge jug of protein shake. Brads mouth watered at the smell and sight and his belly audibly made some grumbling. "Shush you! First we are going to take the first before photo of your progress shots and weigh you while your still just skin and bone, then we are going to juice you up with growth hormone, theeeeennn we can start your first anabolic steroid laced gainer meal" said Steve with a paternal tone in his voice. Brad undid all the buttons on his shirt and sucked in his six pack gut while inhaling. *Click* *Click* . The first of his many progress pics of Brad the bodybuilder were taken. He looked like a skinny model all covered in obviously gym hardened ripped muscles, but starved of any layer of fat at all. With the supple curve of his stomach sucked in farther than usual, he looked like a starvation victim, even though according to the scales he was a decent 75kg. "Come on Steve" Brad protested "juice me up, then we can start turning me into a bull of a man" "Coming dear" said Steve, as his friend took his place at his end of the table. Steve handed the hungry man who had not eaten a thing all day, a handfull of appetite enhancer pills. They would make his stomach churn...and chrun...and churn with excessive amounts of digestive juice, and simply demand that its muscular owner fill it up. Brad did everything as was aggreed on and planned as he swalled every single one ready for the next step. Meanwhile, steve prepared Brads massive dosage of growth hormone to be administerd into the growing boy. they both knew what it would do to him - his muscles would swell, but so would his gut on the inside. By this time tomorrow, his belly would be bigger and hungrier than before as the size of his stomach and intestines would swell up. the steroids in his food would come next, digesting the boys protein into new muscle, them pumping all that nutrients into his athletic body making him even bigger and more powerfull than ever. His muscles would swell up and bloat all over his body, making brad one hell of a dashingly handsome stud indeed. Once the chemicals were in him, Steve reclined at the other side of hte table, slowly muching away on his appetisers to temp Brad. He knew he was getting hungrier and desiring food now. The desire must be burning more than his urge to build up his muscles. Brad watched in silence except for the tender muching from Steve and the slight grumble from his own tummy. He remember how they first met and the local gym desiring to improve thier bodies above what nature had given them. They became lifting buddies, then casual freinds, then good friends...then they opened up to each other. They had a lot in common, but he desire to build up thier msucles was high in these young men. They both desired the roided up look in their favourite bodybuilders too. those bronzed bodies in the magazines bulging with veins and sinew were no also bulging with massive midsections of muscle too. "My God...how do they pump those things up so big?" as the years had gone by, compedetive bodybuilders measurements had increased too. Biceps went from 16-18 inches, now bulged like canonballs at 20-25! Men had thighs thicker than a normal mans waist! Chests were so overdeveloped they could balance a glass of milk on the upper pectoral! Shoulders were so broad, male athletes as young as 17 were unable to reach the other deltoids with thier own hands! And thier waists...Ohhh the expanding waist lines...the ever expanding, pumping, bulging, bulking bellies of sexy studly solid muscle! And all of this eye candy was being fueled by growth supplements you simply cant buy over the counter. The boys made a deal, they put thier money together and had enough for one of them to turn into a professional roid fueled bodybuilder over the course of a year or so plus other expenses. Steve decided that he wanted Brad to indulge himself. Wanting everyone to know he was high on steroids, carelessly bulging and stretching his clothes, letting everyone stare, and showing off hte sideeffects of a massive roidgut like beachball on his lap...Brad didnt take much convincing to be talked into it. By now, the first line of chemical enhancements were coarsing through Brad's veins. He was salivating, he was concentrating on his yummy food laying out tantilising before his eyes. He knew steve had drenched it in steroids and an inumeral amound of growth enhancers too. and it wall all going to be fed into him like a big fat prize pig. Steve finished eating. He got up and strolled over to his human pet science project. Brad licked his lips as he knew it was time while he leaned back in his chair and held his hands behind his head to stretch out one last time. "GRRRRRR" Brads skinny six pack grumbled loudly as if aware of the approach of its owners feeder encourager. Steve placed his hand over the muscular belly and rubbed it affectionaly, then spoke to it in a silly patronising tone - "Awwww, just look at you. Brad hasnt been feeding you enough, and now your just a skinny little girls waist. Well, your uncle Steve will fix all that now that your both in my house, because we are going to pump you right up, little belly. Youre not going to be a skinny little six pack, we are going to blow you up into a big muscly roidgut, youre going to get real big, strong, and handsome. "GRRRRRRR" the digestive juices inside Brad were overflowing and churning inside the empty stomach. "Ohhh Yeah! Your going to be a real bloated musclegut, then when your nice and big, you can digest all of daddys protein, and pump his muscles up even bigger too" Brad could not take it anymore! He leaned forward and obeyed his hunger by grabbing the nearest platefull of food. As the night went on, Brad would weigh more and more, as his body filled up with the super nutritious healthfood saturated with anabolics. He always dreamed of being a steroid abusing freak and that dream was becoming a reality.
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