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Hello everyone. Long time viewer/reader, first-time writer. A little nervous about it, so any and all constructive feedback is welcome! This part is really only meant to be a taster of sorts. I'm 110% open to change. Let me know what you think; super excited that I'm finally contributing! Without further ado: __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Part 1: Tom was hovering in midair. He casually motioned his hands back and forth, as if he was conducting some sort of invisible orchestra. In reality, he was using his telekinesis to clean the living room effortlessly and in record time. Empty pizza boxes were pulled upward by an invisible force where they were instantly vaporized into nothingness. Stains off all varieties were simply removed from existence. Empty soda cans were melted into liquid form, which was then dispersed into the surrounding atmosphere. And throughout it all, Tom wasn't even looking at any of it. He was staring absentmindedly out the window. Such was the ease of this godly display of power that he didn't even need to devote his full attention to it. I simply sat and watched his nonchalant display of power with my usual awe. I suppose I could've helped, but how the hell is a measly little human like me supposed to add to this?! Within a minute of initiating the clean, Tom was finished. He turned in midair, hover over to the couch, and lowered himself down onto it. "All done" he said with a smile. His voice was impossibly beautiful and sexy. A deep baritone, masculine voice. "Thanks" I said, trying to pretend I wasn't intimidated my his godhood. Probably wasn't working though. Tom could just read my mind if he wanted to. "Want me to send you to sleep now?" Tom asked, his remarkable blue eyes filling me with a sense of comfort and safety as we made eye contact. I knew what he meant, and what he intended to do. With my mouth instantly going dry, and my body shaking from anticipation, all I could do was nod feebly. Tom stood up, walked to the center of the room, and turned to face me. With a simply wave of his hand, all of his clothes except for his form fitting, jet-black briefs disintegrated. His godly muscles were on display. Tom was 6'8'', and when he wasn't altering his density of using his flight power, he would normally weigh around 300 - 320 pounds. I began working my way down. His shoulders were massive. Powerful, rippling masses the size of cinder-blocks, with prominent traps that my whole hand could just barely cover. His pecs were next. Each one was the vision of perfection. Slabs of concrete; almost perfectly square, beefy, and large enough to cup. Like everything else, they rippled. He bounced them effortlessly, yet could also make them rock-solid at a moment's notice. His whole chest: 60'' His arms were of a similar make. Massive, 25'' machines that I've seen lifting impossible weights. Veins running through them, looking like steel cables, running down into his formidable looking forearms. His biceps and triceps were equally beautiful. His abs were the definition of beauty. A rippling, rock-hard eight pack, where each individual ab was arrogantly prominent, and the deep cuts that ran between them only emphasized how sculpted they were. Although I couldn't see if from where I sat, I have seen his back. His perfect, v-shaped back. Powerful mounds and ridges of muscle covering it all, guiding you slowly to his 33'' waist. And lets not forget to mention the glutes that it leads to. Two bulletproof hemispheres of pure muscle (and no, I'm not exaggerating). His legs put tree trunks to shame. 31'' thighs corded with titanium veins, towering above 24'' diamond-shaped calves. All of this balancing on bizarrely beautiful, size 15 feet. Of course, as a god, Tom's whole body was free of all forms of blemishes and other such imperfections. His skin was smooth and supply; an easily missed detail on account of the muscle that lay beneath. At the moment he had no body hair, although he could if he wanted to. But he wanted to make sure that I could see every striation, every subtle flex as clearly as possible. And so the light dusting of hair that sometimes coated his chest and forearms was willed out of existence. "Ready?" he said, smirking. I would try to describe the beauty of his face, but I don't think the necessary words actually exist. I gulped. Without taking his eyes off of me, he bounced his pecs. It was effortless for him. All other parts of his body stayed motionless; only his magnificent pecs moved. Their dance became increasingly complex; the two mounds moving to a rhythm like no other. Sometimes they bounced in unison, sometimes one at a time, and sometimes they alternated. My cock was as hard as stone. Suddenly, without warning, Tom tensed his abs. My description of them before described them in a non-flexed state. Imagine now what they looked like. Pre-cum soaked my pants. I hadn't even touch myself yet. And I knew I wasn't going to. Tom hit me next with a double biceps. Their peaks! If he had flexed just a bit harder they would've sent out a shock wave. His most muscular was next. His pecs... I began to convulse; my cock couldn't contain my arousal anymore. I came. He made me, without either of us touching it. Such was the beauty of his body and face. He smiled sweetly at me as I slowly began to lose consciousness from the strength of the orgasm. With a single hand and arm, Tom grabbed a fistful of my shirt's collar and smoothly lifted me from the couch. My 5'9'' frame dangled pathetically as he held me at arm's length with such ease. He bent his arm as he slowly brought me in from a kiss on the forehead, still holding me in the air all the while. His other arm simply hung at his side. Throughout all of this, my cock was still sputtering out small amounts of cum, dampening my already soaked underpants and jeans. "Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning" he whispered in my ear, as I finally lost complete consciousness from the orgasm. I passed out at the end of Tom's arm; he still held me as if I weighed the same as a balloon. The last thing I remember was the feel of my own feet dangling in the air. My arms hanging limp at my sides. My chin brushing the side of Tom's hand that gripped my shirt's collar before my head fell to the side. My whole body rendered weak and useless from the hundred orgasms Tom caused me to have in the space of a minute. I loved that feeling. My name is Frank, and this is the story of how I came to meet my roommate Tom. Who, by the way, happens to be an actual god.
You’re really happy to see your friend… but what the fuck happened to him? He’s huge! He’s mammoth! He has to be about a foot taller and he’s bulging out all over with sculpted, rippling muscle, way more than he should have been able to put on in the 9 months since you last saw him. You have to know what happened. There’s a little beach front diner across the causeway and you suggest you guys go there to grab a bite and catch up. “I don’t do just “bites” anymore,” said Mitch. “But it’s just about time for my next meal, so I’m down.” Mitch got dropped off at the beach, but you have your car. So, you bundle all his beach stuff in the back. The diner has a no shirt, no shoes, no service policy, but you have a t-shirt and flip flops. Mitch has flip flops, but what he puts on as a shirt, you’re not sure qualifies. Obviously designed to showcase his ridiculous physique, the neck line of this thing drops all the way past his huge, striated pecs to the top row of his bulging abs. To say it had no sleeves would be an understatement. This thing had no sides. Not only were his massive, veiny arms and segmented shoulders fully exposed, but his broad back was displayed as well, protruding out the open sides. You mention your doubts to Mitch, but he just says, “Trust me, bro, no one is going to call me on it. Would you?” Looking at you friends huge sculpted, veiny arms, you decide you probably wouldn’t. But the change in Mitch’s attitude was startling. He had this kind of “I’ll go where I want to go and do what I want to do” arrogance about him. He never had that before. You get into the car, which seems to be a little bit of a squeeze for Mitch. You are amazed at how much of the front he takes up. As you’re driving across the causeway, you feel the unmistakable bumping of your tire going flat. You get out and open the trunk for the spare and suddenly remember you lost your jack last fall. Mitch just shrugs and tells you to go ahead and loosen the lug nuts. You protest you don’t have a jack, but he just says, “Don’t worry about it. I got you covered.” You loosen the lug nuts and as soon as you do, there’s a jerk and the rear of your car starts to rise up off the ground. Holy crap! Mitch is lifting the rear of your car. You could see he had huge, chiseled muscles now but how strong was he? You sit there, staring dumbfounded for a minute, before Mitch says, “Are you going to change the tire, or what? I mean I could probably hold this all day, but I’m getting kind of hungry.” Pulling yourself back to the here and now, you continue changing the tire. When you’re done, Mitch sets the car down and you tighten the lug nuts. You try and think of something to say, but you can’t and you’re just quiet all the way to the diner. Of course, as soon as you walk in the door, it’s pandemonium. The server takes one look at Mitch and drops the tray she’s carrying. A wide-eyed little kid, waiting for a table with his mother, can’t stop staring at him. And he’s not alone. All across the diner, heads are turning to stare at Mitch. And he just seems to be loving every second of it. The flustered red-faced server seats you right away, even though there were people waiting before you. You sit there dumbfounded as Mitch orders basically half the menu. The server turns around to leave without taking your order. You stop her and order your much more conservative lunch. And when she finally leaves, you ask Mitch the question that’s been on your mind since you first saw him on the beach. “So, what happened to you, bro? How’d you get so big? And I don’t mean just jacked; you’re like a foot taller, too!” “I know,” said Mitch, grinning and flexing one of his massive biceps, which you guess is easily 5 times the size of yours. “Best thing I ever did,” he said. “My life is so much better now than last summer, when I was weak and puny like you.” “What did you say?” you say, not liking Mitch’s attitude one bit. “Don’t get your Jockeys in a twist, bro,” said Mitch. “Just about everybody’s weak and puny next to me. That’s half the fun.” “But how…?” you ask. “I could tell you,” said Mitch, “but first you have to answer one question for me.” “What?” you say. “Why are you asking?” said Mitch. “Is it just curiosity, the mystery of it? Or are you interested in starting down the same path? Be certain you mean what you say, because, once I answer, there’ll be no going back. And you can’t ask me this question ever again. I’ll only answer this once. So, why are you asking?”