Jump to content

Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'strength'.



More search options

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


Forums

  • General
    • News
    • Problems and Suggestions
    • Introductions
    • General Discussion
  • Written Works
    • Stories
    • Role Playing
    • Continuous Stories
    • Fantasies and Story Ideas
    • Chat & Role-Playing Transcripts
    • Real-Life Muscle Growth Experiences
  • MG.com's Storiversary
    • General
    • Storiversary Story Archive
  • Media
    • General Images
    • Artwork & Morphs
    • Videos
    • Before & After Transformations
  • Community
    • Personals
    • Chat Buddies
    • Surveys & Polls
    • Advertisements
  • Bodybuilding
    • General
    • Training
    • Muscle & Mind
    • Diet & Nutrition
    • Steroids
    • Watch Me Grow
  • Off Topic
    • Main Off Topic Board
    • News & Current Events
    • Weird / Funny / Interesting
  • Hyper and Impossibly Big Muscle!'s Welcome!
  • Hyper and Impossibly Big Muscle!'s Gallery
  • DC Area Muscle's Discussion
  • Tall Muscle's Discussion & Advice
  • Furry Muscle Club's Club Chat
  • Spanish-speaking members!'s Presentaciones
  • Superstrength and Crushing's Your favorite Superstrength & Crushing Stories
  • Dumbing Down Fraternity's Dumbing You
  • Dumbing Down Fraternity's Meathead Make-Believe
  • Dumbing Down Fraternity's Dumb Stud Pictures
  • Dumbing Down Fraternity's Mutual Muscling
  • South East Asia Muscle Club's Muscle Tales
  • 2D Muscle Artists's Topics
  • Bodybuilders Seeking Sponsors's Physique Progress Galleries
  • Bodybuilders Seeking Sponsors's Guys Seeking Sponsors
  • Bodybuilding Best Practices's Bodybuilding Websites
  • Bodybuilding Best Practices's Top Tips, Articles and Guides
  • Bodybuilding Best Practices's Video Clips
  • Bodybuilding Best Practices's Social Media
  • Bodybuilding Best Practices's Supplements
  • Second Life's GYMS
  • Second Life's Topics
  • Second Life's Role play
  • New York City Muscle's Member Intro
  • New York City Muscle's Personals

Calendars

There are no results to display.

There are no results to display.


Find results in...

Find results that contain...


Date Created

  • Start

    End


Last Updated

  • Start

    End


Filter by number of...

Joined

  • Start

    End


Group


AIM


MSN


Website URL


ICQ


Yahoo


Jabber


Skype


Location


What are your interests?


What are your stats?


What are you seeking?


What are your dream stats?


Favorite Stories


Favorite Bodybuilders


Got Any Fetishes?

Found 397 results

  1. radiokida

    Black Hulk

    This is my first complete story. Some of you have been reading this in the Unfinished section of this forum. It's now finished, so I'm posting it here. Thank you to those people who have already given me positive comments on this story. They will undoubtedly encourage me to write more stories. The story has six chapters. Some of them have gay themes, others straight themes, and others bi. I have made some very slight edits to the original six parts that were posted originally, to hopefully improve the story slightly, when it comes to grammar and continuity. Hope you enjoy my story! ------------ BLACK HULK Chapter 1: Kris meets Black Hulk Everyone gasped when he entered. He swaggered slowly to a deckchair, with his belongings, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. This was not odd, since we were in the hotel indoor pool, me and around six or seven strangers. What made everyone gasp was the sheer amount of muscular development this man's body was presenting to our senses. To me, those muscles were instantly recognizable. They belonged to Henk Kuria, or, as everyone in the porn industry called him, Black Hulk. Winner of the past three Mr. Olympias and a long string of other bodybuilding contests, Black Hulk stormed into the bodybuilding scene in 2020 as a 6'4, 380lbs unknown 20-year-old from Kenya. That year, he not only easily defeated, and humiliated, the then Mr. O. Phil Heath, but has won every bodybuilding contest he entered. The incredible thing is that, according to the latest news from the IFBB, Black Hulk weighed an astonishing 420lbs in last year's Mr. O., with a barely comprehensible 4% bodyfat. How do I know this? Well, I've jacked off at least once everyday as soon as my eyes feasted on this giant monument of musculature back then in 2020. So much, so that this year I decided to travel all the way to Las Vegas to witness this guy live. I truly am a huge fan of his. Not just for his giant muscles, but also for his lifestyle. A few months after he won his first Olympia, Black Hulk came out as bisexual. At first, there were rumors that the IFBB would retract his title, but soon common sense prevailed. At that time, Black Hulk started to feature in a lot of porno movies, some straight, some gay, and some bi. The astonishing thing is that, as time went by, not only did his incredibly huge muscles became bigger and bigger, but also, visibly, his cock and balls grew in unison. In his first porno, fucking Lela Star, he had a very respectable 8 inch cock. In his last, not only did he grew 40lbs of muscle since that first porn flick, but also 2 inches of cock; moreover, his dick is visibly much thicker. This last porno was a reverse gangbang, where Black Hulk fucked 20 women in 2 hours. One after the other, every woman roared in an earth shattering orgasm, begging him to stop. Then, in the end, he climaxed on all of them at once, in a cumblast that lasted a full minute. Needless to say, this porno flick proved very popular. The gay porn community have now asked him to film a gay-themed similar flick, with 20 men. Anyway, Black Hulk is here, a few feet away from me. Apparently, he decided to use the services of the same hotel I was in, during his stay in Las Vegas to undoubtedly conquer Mr. Olympia for a fourth time. My cock instantly grew rock hard in my swimtrunks; luckily I was in the pool, so nobody noticed. What also helped somewhat was the fact that every other person that, up till that point, were with me in the pool decided to pack their things and leave. Maybe they were disgusted by his muscles, or by his well-known overly sexualized lifestyle, who knows. Fact is, I was the only one to witness him casually removing his towel from his overly-muscular waist, revealing a swimsuit that was clearly struggling to contain the massive cock and balls inside it. Then he proceeded to jump in the pool, with a grace that beguiled his enormous frame. This was too good an opportunity to miss. I had to talk to him! But... I completely froze! "Hey man, nice traps" a heavily-accented voice said. It took me a while to realize that Black Hulk has just spoken, and, further, that he was referring to... me! "Uh... fuck. I mean... uh... thanks" I stammered. "I'm... I'm Kris... I'm... uh... sorry, I... big fan... I... I..." "No need to be shy around me, Kris" he grinned, his teeth's sparkling whiteness contrasting sharply with his dark black supermuscular body. "You must work out? I like your traps a lot." Black Hulk is complementing ME? Wow, this must be a dream. "Uh, thanks, uh, yes, I do..." That was all my brain could muster. "You've got a nice package down there too", he continued, grinning even wider. Instinctively, I turned beet red, and tried to cover my erect genitals. Damn, I must be so erect that he could notice from above the water. "You are indeed a big fan." he continued. "Am I responsible for some of your orgasms?" "ALL of them" I blurted out loud. "Since your first Mr. Olympia win, I haven't orgasmed to any human being except you." That was the brutally honest truth. "Good. I like sexy fans like you. You here to see me win another Olympia, right?" "Yes... yes I am. Nobody comes close to your hypermuscular body." "Indeed, nobody does." He climbed out of the water. "Come here. Feel my body. I don't bite." Suddenly, like a wild animal overcame with lust, I jumped out of the pool and started squeezing all of his bodyparts. Those traps, that seemed to go all the way level to his ears. That barrell neck, thicker than the circumference of his head. Those huge shoulders, so monumentally massive and defined. Those impossible biceps, that, even relaxed, seemed like somebody had stuffed a melon inside them. Those triceps, that protuded so far out of his arms that they almost looked like biceps. Those forearms, so incredibly thick, thicker than a normal man's legs. Those pectorals, incomprehensibly thick and full shelves of muscular power. Those abdominals, looking and feeling like eight slabs of diamond-hard bricks on his tapered down waist. Those lats, popping out so ridiculously wide of his back that they seemed like almost having a life of their own. That unbelievable back, so thick and defined and wide and massive. Those quads, impossibly muscular and immense, so massively muscled that I couldn't even hug one. Those calves, scarcely comprehensible slabs of meat, each bigger than my own pecs. Those glutes, protruding out of his hips even more than his monstrous back muscles. Every single bodypart of this incredible human specimen required your constant attention and worship. I found myself squeezing, feeling, massaging, sometimes even licking each and every one of his bodyparts. "Mmm, you really like my body, don't you Kris? This year, I weigh 440lbs, 4% bodyfat. That's another 20lbs more than last year's Mr. O." He moaned contentedly. I was slowly turning him on. "How do you do it, Black Hulk?" I asked him I licked one of his nipples, then continued "I mean, I'm proud of my 5'9, 190lbs body, but I have to work really hard to stay in shape. You look godlike all the time. I'm squeezing as hard as I can and it feels like squeezing a marble statue." "Man, you want my body so bad. Your lust for me is actually turning me on" moaned the superbodybuilder. "Let's go to my room. It's more private." He dried off, and re-wrapped his towel around his waist. Even like this, the towel was slightly tented... his cock was indeed half-hard. "You sure? I mean... yes, YES" I almost shouted. I hurriedly dried off and wrapped my own towel around my waist, concealing my own totally erect cock that had been straining my swimtrunks for the past half an hour. As we were leaving, a family entered the pool premises. The mother and the father were shocked by the dimensions of my idol, and they were relieved that we were leaving. Their son, who couldn't have been older than 7 years old, pointed at him and said "Look, Mommy, it's the Hulk!" We exited the pool amid the voices of the mother and father trying to explain to their kid that my idol wasn't the Hulk because his skin wasn't green. It took us around five minutes to reach his room at the twenty-first floor. During those five minutes, a million thoughts raced through my head. Are we going to have sex? Will this be just a worship session? Am I dreaming? Whatever it was, I thought how blessed I was to be with the man of my dreams, even if this was, indeed, a dream. We entered his room, and I closed the door. The room was huge, almost like an apartment. I was marveling at the beauty and size of the room, when I felt him hugging me from my back. Then he whispered, in that sexy accent of his, "Let me give you a pre-show." He allowed me to turn around. His cock and balls were now visibly straining his swimtrunks more than before. He started to practice his posing routine in front of me. Now I already described to you his incredibly huge muscles, how massively thick, huge, hard, and bulging they were. That was when he was relaxed. When flexing them, his muscles really came alive. When he did a crab pose, his already enormous and thick pecs inflated outwards like balloons, except that they were even harder than before. I found myself getting so hard that I had to take off my swimtrunks, because they were hurting. He slightly gasped when he saw my erect cock, probably because it was leaking precum. He did a back pose, copying Ronnie Coleman's signature pose, where he would spread his lats more and more, until he reaches their maximum spread. Except this man's back was infinitely thicker and infinitely wider, to the point where, in his final lat spread pose, his fists couldn't even reach his relatively small waist. I moaned slightly in response, as my precum was forming a small puddle below me. He then turned sideways, and here his absurd thickness was made clear. My eyes traced through his neck and traps, going outwards through his immense back muscles and monstrous pecs, to then narrow down to his waist and well-muscled abs, to then stretch out absurdly by his impossibly thick glutes and monumental quads. He started doing his signature pose, where he slowly flexed his right bicep, making it turn from a melon, to a bowling ball, to a watermelon. As my eyes bugged out, witnessing the incredible flexing of his bicep, I was absolutely sure that bicep couldn't grow any bigger, but then he grinned and effortlessly flexed it further, making it probably as big as a basketball. I lost it; I started to cum powerfully all over myself, at the sight of this incredible display of musculature, all without ever touching my dick. So powerful was my orgasm that most of my cum hit his forearm, bicep and right quad, even though I was a good two feet away from him. My cock was an erupting volcano that was being kept in check for far too long, resulting in a more massive eruption than usual. My orgasm took about seven seconds to complete. It was, easily, my most satisfying orgasm ever. "God, that's so hot" he murmured, as he scrambled to remove his own swimtrunk, which only succeeded in tearing it off his hulking body. His own cock was now rock hard. "I made you cum just by flexing my muscles... that's the hottest thing I've ever witnessed." he moaned. His cock was covering his navel and his midsection, probably around a foot long and as thick as my wrist... no, probably even thicker. His balls hung low, and looked as big as the rest of him. I came closer to him, rubbing my own cum along his quads, then my left hand cupped his balls. They must have easily been five times bigger than mine, maybe even six. My right hand managed to just encompass the huge girth of his erect cock. Then I started to stroke it, caress it, marveling at its incredible size. "Harder, Kris. Use your full strength with me! Do not hold back!" the massive superbodybuilder implored. "Yes, yes, certainly, I apologize, Black Hulk." "Do not apologize. I like you a lot, Kris. Nobody has ever turned me on as much as you have done today." I started to nibble on his left nipple, which was almost the size of a small penis, while I simultaneously pinched his right nipple and jerked his amazing cock with my hands. He moaned in delight. "Ohh yes, you're good at this" Black Hulk moaned. I'm GOOD at this? This is my very first sexual encounter with anyone, and fate wanted that my very first sex session was to be with the biggest, most muscular bodybuilder on the planet. "Please, don't stop" he continued. I rubbed my hands against his abs, with all my might, in the meantime licking and biting them. I tasted his savoury sweat and a bit of my own cum. His huge cock became even bigger, as it almost hit my head. "FUCK, that's it, I HAVE to fuck you," he roared. He lifted me up like I was a rag doll. He let me face his gigantic upper body while pointing his giant dickhead towards my ass. "Hold on, hold on, Black Hulk! Please... please... be gentle... this is my first time." I felt his massive dickhead penetrating me. Surprisingly, it didn't feel as uncomfortable as I thought. Using just a fraction of his hulk-like strength, he pushed inside me, using his own precum as lubricant, until most of his cock was in. "Relax," he whispered in my ear. "Let go of me, balance on my cock alone, feel how even my cock is super powerful." I did as he told me, and indeed, his cock managed to support my entire weight. I also felt some liquid squirting inside my ass. "Are you... cumming?" I asked him. "That's my precum, Kris. It squirts as far as most people's cumshots. It will help with keeping your insides nice and moist for my cock to slide easily." "Wow, you're amazing, Black Hulk!" I hadn't finished saying this completely... he grabbed my ass and pushed his cock partially out of my hole and pushed it back in, slowly. "Did that hurt?" he asked. "No, no." "Good. Enjoy the ride. Cling to wherever of my body you like!" I grabbed his giant pecs as he started fucking me, first slowly, then faster and faster. At some points, he was almost hitting my prostate. My dick went rock hard again, as I realized that I was completely at this monstrous hulk's mercy. Soon, he started to moan louder, and his body started to glisten with sweat. His glistening muscles flexed several times as he edged closer to orgasm. Then he hit my prostate, sending me into an instinctive orgasm, and... "Oh GOD, Kris, I'm CUMMING... OH... OOOHHHOOHHH... Fuck YEAH!" My butt was blasted repeatedly with this incredible man's cum, in an orgasm that must have taken a full minute. Then, slowly, it abated, and his breathing became more normal. "Ohh... phew, that felt really good Kris." He disengaged his cock off my ass. Surprisingly, none of his cum rolled out of my butthole, and I did not feel bloated or anything. "Uh... where did your cum go?" I asked him. "Is this normal?" "I honestly have no idea" he told me, concerned. Then it hit me. A massive spasm all over my abdomen. Then all over me. Then it went as quickly as it came. Perhaps it took two seconds, tops. "Fuck, what was that?" we asked, together. ---------------- Chapter 2: Mysterious Bodily Reactions We looked at each other, stunned. "Did... did it hurt?" the overly-muscular black bodybuilder asked, after a protruded silence. "No, no. It felt... weird, though. Like there was something inside me stretching my body parts. But now, I feel fine." "You sure?" the muscle monster mused. "Really, Henk, I do." It was the first time I called him by his real name. The hulking muscleman smiled faintly, in approval. "Look, today has been unbelievable getting to... know you better, Henk. You fulfilled my utmost dreams, and more. I'll never forget this day, ever. But now, I'm sure you need to prepare for tomorrow's prejudging and Saturday's contest." "Yes, I do, Kris. But I have an offer for you. Would you want to be backstage tomorrow and Sunday, with me?" "You're kidding? I'd really, REALLY love to! But, I'm not, uh, very well-acquainted with... being back-stage." "I just need you to apply oil on my body. You know, to make my muscles show more. I'm sure you'll do very well in that regard, after how you worshipped me earlier." The huge muscleman winked and grinned. "The rest, leave it up to me. You in?" Rubbing Black Hulk's giant muscles with oil? Who in their right mind would refuse such an offer? "Of COURSE I'm in! I'm just afraid that I'll be turned on all the time by your..." "Good. That's exactly what I want." Black Hulk grinned again. His grin is so hot, I thought: pure white teeth atop a sea of bulging black muscles. "What do you mean?" "You'll see tomorrow." I wanted to ask him why such a successful bodybuilder does not have a team of trainers, nutritionists, sponsors and spokespersons, but I decided not to raise this issue. Still, this IS a little weird. He seems to be all alone in this hotel, after all. The other Mr. Olympia contestants are probably answering questions in press conferences, whereas Black Hulk is in a hotel fucking a stranger... "Oh, and another thing. You're free to come to my room any time while you're staying in this hotel," continued the multiple Mr. O. winner. "Likewise, Henk. Listen, I'm starving. Shall we get something to eat?" "Yes, there's a buffet going on. It started while we were... swimming", the massive black bodybuilder winked. "Let me shower first. I still stink of your cum." He laughed. "Okay, I guess I'll go shower in my room and come back," I said. "No you won't," the immense muscle mountain quipped. He lifted me up with one arm. "You'll shower with me. Why waste water? Besides, you can lather my back much better than I can." "Oh, I can lather every INCH of you, not just your back" I moaned, getting horny again at the prospect of showering with the man of my dreams. He carried me to the shower, and opened the water. We lathered each other. He was right: his upper body was so wide that he couldn't ever lather himself at various places. I paid extra attention to each of his bodyparts, rubbing them with shower gel repeatedly. Even though I had orgasmed twice in the past half an hour, I found myself getting hopelessly horny again. He showed me his massive biceps again, flexing them for me, making them basketballs of power. "Fuck, man, those biceps, they make me rock hard every time. They're so FUCKING immense," I moaned. He placed my cock between his super thick left forearm and his giant left bicep, and flexed the bicep around my cock. Needless to say, this had a very quick effect: my cock blasted another copious amount of cum all over him. He smiled. "It's my turn now" I told him, as I recovered from my third orgasm in thirty five minutes. I grabbed his cock and gave him a good handjob. The cock rose to its barely-believable length and girth. Then I took his cockhead in my mouth; it was as big as a fucking apple. I sucked him as hard as I could, while simultaneously jerking it off with all my might and fondling his oversized balls. He started to moan louder and louder, until finally I was rewarded with a mighty roar, accompanied by a large stream of cum blasting out of his cock, hitting the sides of the shower with impressive force. His orgasm took about half a minute to abate, which was incredibly amazing, considering that only half an hour before he was spraying cum for an entire minute. We finally headed off the shower. I dried off and wrapped my towel around myself, when I noticed something. "Hey look, that's weird... I don't have any hair anymore! Like, no hair on my chest, my forearms, my legs, my armpits... I don't even have pubic hair!" I touched my head and face. My hair and stubble were still there, thankfully. "Hmm... that IS strange..." the black muscleman mused. "You're... you're kinda like me, now, with no hair below your neck at all." "That's different - you probably waxed it for the contest. Right?" "Uh, actually I didn't. I don't have any hair on my body. Below my head, that is. Maybe... that's what your spasms did to you earlier... still, why would your bodyhair disappear so quickly?" The overly-sized muscleman was deep in thought. "Don't worry about it. I'll get used to it. And, maybe it'll grow again. I'll pop out to my room to wear something. We'll meet near the elevator," I said. A few minutes later. I was next to the elevator, wearing shirt and trousers. I saw him coming, and was stunned again. He was wearing a white T-shirt with the words 'BLACK HULK' embroidered in black, and blue shorts. However, they were so tight on his bulging mountains of muscle that all of his muscle beneath the fabric could easily be traced, including not only his immense pecs, but also his abdominals and his nipples. His shorts expanded ridiculously around his superhuge quads and glutes, each overinflated muscle group threatening to rip it off at any moment. "Jesus, Henk, your clothes leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, don't they?" I murmured. "They don't. I had made these to order when I was 410lbs, a year and a half ago. Now that I'm 440lbs, they are juuuust a little bit tight," he teased. We entered the restaurant and took a plateful of the buffet food. People actually stopped and stared at the huge muscleman. Some murmured something to themselves, others turned to their friends and nudged them to take a look at Henk. I felt proud that I was next to him. Nobody in the whole world has an amorous partner as hot as mine. I was really starving, so I visited the buffet several times, like four or five times. The massive bodybuilder did likewise. I noticed that he was not much choosy with his food; he was eating carbs, protein, fibre, milk products... he was enjoying everything. That's weird, I thought: this guy is going to be in the world's biggest bodybuilding contest tomorrow, and he's not even trying to eat well for it. What I soon found weirder was how my appetite was not satiated, even after eating 7 platefuls of food. Even Henk said he was full after taking seven plates of delicious food. On the other hand, my stomach felt like I barely even started. "Man, you eat even more than I do... that's impressive," the black muscle mountain mused. "I'm surprising even myself... I usually just take three plates, tops, including dessert," I said. "What's happening to me? I'm still starving!" "I honestly have no idea... good thing we have this buffet going on... you can keep eating without paying extra!" Black Hulk said, glancing towards another table. Looking in the direction he was glancing at, there was a young woman sitting down, eyeing both of us, but especially staring at my idol. "You know her?" I whispered. "I don't think I do," confessed the huge bodybuilder. "She wants me badly, though, judging by how she's looking at me. I know that look. Bet her panties are soaking wet!" He laughed faintly at his own joke. "I'll go get another plate of food," I said. "Cool. I'm good. I'll wait for you." As I filled my plate for the eighth time, I actually felt a little bit jealous. But then I remembered that his superhuman musclegod is a well-known pornstar... it is to be expected that he's not into one stable sex partner. Just then, I noticed the top button of my shirt had popped off. That's strange... even my sleeves are filled more than before. It seems like my body is getting bigger. Well, of course it is... I must have eaten close to 8000 calories in the past hour or so. But, my waist was still as trim as ever... it's like the extra weight has gone to my... pecs and arms? I went back to my restaurant seat, noticing that, in the meantime, Black Hulk was in the company of the girl that was eyeing him earlier. "Uh, excuse me, I'll go to the bathroom quick," I quipped, then immediately raced to the bathroom close by. * * * Everyone gasped when he entered. He swaggered slowly to a restaurant seat, accompanied by a man who must have been in his mid-twenties. This was not odd, since we were in the restaurant buffet room, me and around six or seven strangers. What made everyone gasp was the sheer amount of muscular development the former man's body was presenting to our senses. To me, those muscles were instantly recognizable. They belonged to Henk Kuria, or, as everyone in the porn industry called him, Black Hulk. This guy was, in a word, freaky. I've always secretly loved professional bodybuilders. My female friends somehow always found them 'gross' or 'disgusting', and, in front of them, I agreed. But, secretly, I get wet whenever an overly muscular man flashes past my eyes. And Black Hulk wasn't just overly muscular. He was, like, twice as big as the biggest pros. This guy's muscles were astonishingly huge... really, there was no comparison. It was like his muscles had muscles of their own. And he was BLACK. I LOOOVE black men. They look so virile. His skin was really, really dark, too; he was one of the blackest men I had ever witnessed. That made him even hotter, in my books. I had searched for his name ever since I stumbled upon the first porno I watched that featured him. He fucked Lela Star senseless in that porn flick, and the poor girl with the comically enhanced butt just didn't know what hit her. She must have felt like she was being fucked by a bulldozer. And then, his orgasm, showering all over her body... his cumshot was easily that of 10 men combined. After that flick, Lela Star actually took a six month break from porn, citing 'personal issues'. But the stage was set. Black Hulk had stolen her limelight, and that light is still shining brightly. Indeed, he not only shot several other porn flicks, with men, women, or both at once, but he became even bigger, and his orgasms even longer and more powerful. Some people started to question how real his orgasms were, although most did not care. The porn industry made sure to mention that none of what they're filming was staged or faked. And, in most nights, I end up shoving a cucumber in my pussy, fucking myself furiously, wishing that cucumber was Black Hulk fucking me into oblivion as I watch him on my phone in my bed. Anyway, Black Hulk is here, a few feet away from me. For some reason, he happens to be in the same hotel I'm in. Maybe for a new porno shoot? Who knows. I was staring at him. He was wearing a white T-shirt, with the words 'BLACK' and 'HULK'. The word 'BLACK' was stretched all around the top of his enormous pectorals, while the word 'HULK' was below it, in the middle, with his two nipples on either side of the word. Fuck, his T-shirt was so tight that even his nipples were visible; that's insane. His pectorals must be much bigger than my own breasts. That's really saying something, as I wear a 34M cup size. I'm a chubby 5'7, 175lbs woman with a 48-32-40 figure. You either love or hate my body. Some guys find me disgustingly fat, while others just adore my voluptuous body. I've had a few one-night stands with men from the latter category, and they have honestly given me much-needed self-confidence about my body. This made me accept what God has given me, and now I flaunt what I have, rather than try to hide it. Which is what this incredible male specimen a few feet from me certainly does; that T-shirt he's wearing just makes him flaunt the godlike upper body he has. Fuck, he's even hotter up close than in the pornos. My juices were flowing. Just then, the guy he was with him stood up to take another plate. I decided to show slightly more cleavage, to see if the giant black bodybuilder noticed. He did, and smiled. I smiled back, then stood up and came next to him. "Hi, I'm Chloe, nice to meet you, Black Hulk." I extended my hand. He took it and kissed it. "Likewise, Chloe. I'm Henk. You've got a very naturally beautiful body, miss." He smiled. "Thank you. Nowhere near close to your magnificence, though," I said, my heart racing. He likes me. Helikesmehelikesmehelikesmehelikesmeeee... "You're a fan, Chloe?" asked the god, known to us mortals as Black Hulk. "Yes. Big fan of your, uh... movies. Big fan of your huge muscles. You're the best!" I enthused. "Thanks, dear. On holiday?" "No, business trip. I'm a journalist, working for the website CoolnHot.com. I'm assigned to write an article about the gambling and entertainment industry here in Vegas, by witnessing them first-hand. I return home tomorrow morning. You?" "I'm here to win the Mr. Olympia contest for the fourth time." I stared at him blankly. I never heard of a Mr. Olympia contest before. "What's that... a pornstar award?" I asked, innocently. Black Hulk laughed. "No, no. It's the biggest bodybuilding contest in the world. I've won it three times already. I'm here to win it for the fourth time. It starts tomorrow and ends Saturday." Just then, Black Hulk's friend returned, and told us he was going to the bathroom. He left the plate on the table and rushed away to the lavatory. "Who is he?" I asked, curious. "He's Kris. A REALLY good friend. He's responsible for making me look good during the contest while I'm backstage. Mostly by rubbing oil on my body." Wow, I'd love to do that, I thought. "You'd like to do that, don't you?" the massive muscleman asked, grinning. "Uh... yeah... admittedly, I'd love to." How did he know what I was thinking? Am I really that easy to read? "Then come to my room... I will let you do that, and more." He winked at me and smiled again, flashing those pure white, sparking teeth. "That's if you've finished eating, of course," he added. "No, no... I'm finished. But... what about your good friend... Kris?" "I'll just leave a note on the table that I had to leave suddenly. Come on, I'll pay for your meal." Just then, he stood up. "Oh, uh, you don't..." I stopped midway through speaking, as I witnessed his 6'4, 440lbs supermuscular frame towering over me. "I mean, uh, thanks," I corrected myself. The black god endowed with the most immense muscles I had ever seen went to the counter and paid for three meals. He then scribbled a note and left it on the table. I was actually impressed that his thick, muscular fingers could still hold a pen relatively easily. "Let's go, my room is in the twenty-first floor," Black Hulk cooed. People stared at us as they walked out of the restaurant and into the elevator. My panties were practically soaked now. I was worried that some wet spot would be visible down my dress, especially since there was another couple with us in the elevator. Their eyes bugged out when they saw the mountain of muscle that was with me. I felt proud of my catch tonight... I was sure this one-night stand will be my best one ever. We arrived at his room. I guess it was some kind of executive suite, because it was much larger and spacious than my room. I closed the door behind me, and immediately sneaked in his bathroom, removing all my clothes. I was never so wet and horny in my life. I tiptoed out, and, before he had even turned around from placing the door key on the desk, I rubbed his massive back, and whispered: "Ready when you are, Black Hulk." ---------------- Chapter 3: Chloe Sex and Muscle Growth He turned around, surprised at my directness. His deep brown eyes scanned my naked body from top to bottom. They approved of what they saw. "I'm always ready, Chloe. You have a very curvy, beautiful body. It reminds me of the beautiful women from my home country. Except your white skin, which I find very appealing," the muscular pornstar said. He put his well-muscled arms around my nude lower back, inviting me to draw myself even closer to his titanic body. I gladly accepted the invitation, and began to grind my entire body, especially my ample breasts, against his hulking, bulging muscles. My head could only reach his monstrous pectorals, so I cradled it between them. He moved his hands towards my round butt, and squeezed them. Being so close to him, I felt his cock starting to stir. "You like my ass, huh?" I cooed as I lifted his T-shirt, willing him to remove it. This exposed his fantastically muscled eight-pack abdominals. I started to squeeze them, but they felt like hard bricks. They were so thick that I could insert my entire index finger in the space between each of the brick-like abdominals. "Holy cow, you're a fucking muscle brick shit-house. Your muscles are even bigger than they look in your pornos," I continued, in absolute amazement. He said nothing; he only grinned at me. Then, his right hand moved towards his T-shirt. Tugging it from the bottom, he tore it off his ridiculously overdeveloped upper body like he had been tearing off toilet paper. His entire upper body was now exposed, and I almost fainted. From the position I was, I could see two enormous orbs of pectoral muscles, each as big as a gravel sack. I rubbed them slowly. They were dense, thick slabs of power; no wonder he could rip off this oversized, yet barely-fitting T-shirt so incredibly easily. The minimal effort he produced to tear off his T-shirt off his body made his arm visibly bounce... it looked as big as one of my buckets I use when I wash my apartment's floor. It was my turn to get speechless. I felt my vaginal fluids roll down the inside of my thighs - I was THAT turned on. My breathing grew heavier. He then gently lifted me up, so that my eyes were level with his. His grin was confident, cocky. He was definitely my first one-night stand that could lift me up so easily, as if my curvy, 175lbs body was as heavy as a book, to him. He lowered his head and sucked my right nipple, which I felt was as big as one of my lipstick bullets. Instinctively, I lowered my head back in ecstasy, as I felt his lips leave my right nipple to plant themselves on my left. I started moaning loudly, wishing him to ravage my pussy with that huge cock of his, that 10 inch monster I always fantasized would, one day, be sliding inside MY pussy instead of the pussy of some random plastic-surgery-filled pornstar. He placed me back on the floor. My eyes were transfixed on the ridiculous bulge between his massive thighs. He removed his shorts, freeing his massive cock from its confines. It immediately sprang upwards, hitting my abdomen in the process, then started to lengthen and thicken further. He had no pants beneath the shorts. Finally, the magnificent dick eased its growth. It pointed directly to my face; I imagined it telling me that, since I was responsible for waking it up, it was going to fuck me really hard. It looked bigger than 10 inches, and thicker than the cucumber I practise with when watching his porn flicks. My sexual arousal has never been this high. My mind was completely blown away by this god. I felt my juices trickle down my thigh and reaching my knees. "You told me 'ready when you are' earlier. Well, I'm definitely ready NOW," Black Hulk announced. He lifted me with one arm and placed me on his bed in a doggy position, with my ample butt facing him. I then waited for him to insert his giant black fuckstick inside my waiting pussy. I felt him do precisely that a moment later. His cock felt really hard and filled up my vaginal walls completely, but I was so well lubricated that there was no pain at all, just ecstasy. "Oh God, you're so big, you fill me up so much. Fuck me, fuck me HARD!" I shouted in delirium. He didn't need my compliance. I felt his hands grab my ass, then he started to fuck me senseless. Each push of his cock inside me felt like a mini-orgasm. I started shouting obscenities, strings of dirty vulgarities that my mind was stringing up there and then. I was nearing an earth-shattering orgasm, so my slurs were becoming more and more high-pitched. In response, he fucked me faster. That was it: my eyes rolled backwards and my mouth made an exaggerated 'OOOOOOOHHHHHH' shape as I climaxed powerfully, my vocal chords trying to keep up with the intensity of my orgasm. He slowed down, waiting for my orgasm to subside, then picked up the pace once again. I felt his cock throbbing even bigger inside me, probably triggered by my insane climax. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuckk, FFFUUUUUCCKKKKK OOOOOHOHOHHHHOHOHHH GODDDDDDDD FUUUUUUUUUUCK YEEAAAAAAAHHHHH!" I shouted as another orgasm hit my senses. He slowed down again, then restarted his relentless pussy drilling with that insane cock he has. I've seen him do it several times in his porn movies; how he'd fuck a girl repeatedly, sending her into countless orgasms, until she literally couldn't take any more, and then, and only then, he ejaculates. I used to think that a lot of editing was involved for that to truly happen. It turns out no editing was required; this man, or should I say, god, knew how to please a woman in a complete, entire way. "Fuck... fuck... Hulk... HULK... BLACK HULK... PLEASE... no more... oh god... you're so good... but please... no more... that's more than enough... fuck... so much cock..." I finally told him after my latest mind-blowing orgasm. I must have orgasmed eight, nine, ten times, I don't remember. He slowed down, then proceeded to slide his cock off my pussy. "No, Black Hulk, what are you doing? I want you to fill my pussy up with your seed." "You sure?" "Yes, I am. I'm on the pill, and I've had my period six days ago. It's safe. Please fill me up with your seed. I beg you. It would make me complete." Black Hulk obliged. He inserted his still rock hard, massive cock inside my vagina. He started to fuck me yet again, but this time, his technique was subtly different. This time, he was doing this to pleasure himself, not myself. Soon I heard him moan louder and louder. I figured he was getting close to orgasm, as his fucks became quicker and more powerful. Finally, I felt him insert his cock completely inside me, almost together with half of his balls, and he roared loudly. I felt my pussy being blasted by an incomprehensible amount of cum. His orgasm lingered on for what seemed like a full minute. During this time, his cock was spewing cum non-stop. I felt my belly actually expand a little bit as my internal organs tried to accommodate this insane amount of cum that was being introduced to them. Finally, his orgasm abated, and he sighed contently. My belly went back to its usual form, and he disengaged his gigantic organ off my vagina. I turned round slowly on the bed to face him. He was covered in sweat, which I found really hot. I opened my legs to allow some of his cum flow out of my vagina, but, surprisingly, none did. "Hey, what the hell? Where did all that cum go?" "I... I have no idea," Black Hulk said. He looked concerned. Then, I suddenly felt it. A massive spasm all over my abdomen. Then another one all over me. Then several spasms, one after the other, shaking my entire body. I continued spasming like this, for what seemed like an eternity. During all this time, I couldn't speak, nor move, nor do anything except spasming, although I was completely conscious. Then, finally, as I was expecting another spasm hitting me, it did not come. I waited and waited, but nothing happened. I must have spasmed for, like, an entire minute. Black Hulk looked at me, and uttered "Oh my god!" * * * I went back to my restaurant seat, noticing that, in the meantime, Black Hulk was in the company of the girl that was eyeing him earlier. "Uh, excuse me, I'll go to the bathroom quick," I quipped, then immediately raced to the bathroom close by. I looked in the mirror. My pecs were definitely bigger. I felt them, and confirmed my suspicion: they were not only bigger, but firmer, denser. Removing the remaining buttons of my shirt, my eyes analysed my abdominals. They looked more defined. My arms looked like they were tighter around my half-sleeve, too, and, although I wasn't feeling uncomfortable yet, my trousers looked tighter around my quads. I smiled. I redid the buttons of my shirt - well, all of them except the top one, which popped earlier - and went back to the restaurant. Strangely, my massive bodybuilding friend was nowhere to be seen. When I went back to our table, there was a note: "Something came up. I paid for your meal. See you tomorrow. BLACK HULK." Something came up, huh? He's probably fondling that bitch's huge boobs right now. Oh well, he's a pornstar, after all... I wolfed down the plate that I had filled up earlier, the one I had left on the table. I was still hungry. Like, REALLY hungry. I revisited the buffet table many other times. Each time, I devoured the food like I had not eaten for weeks. After five more plates, another button popped off my shirt. I decided to undo all the buttons at this point. People were leaving the restaurant, it was getting late. I continued to relentlessly gulp down plateful after plateful of food, amid occasional tears of fabric from my short sleeves or trousers. Finally, after eating about 30 plates of food, I was satiated. Mind you, it felt like I've just eaten a salad, but, at least, I wasn't hungry anymore. I stood up to leave, when the kitchen staff manager stopped me. "Sir, you have to pay." "Uh, my friend paid for my meal already." "Yes, he did," he explained, glancing at my upper body, partly concealed by my tattered shirt, then at my face again. "But, uh, you ate much, much more food than I had ever seen in my twelve years of being head of this restaurant. So we thought that, uh, you'd pay again? It would still be a bargain for you, you know." He sounded sheepish, which was something I never got from other people before. It was as if he was afraid talking to me. "Uh, sure, I understand. Here, I'll pay twice as much as the price bill. You deserve it, the food was delicious." My hands reached out for my wallet. In doing so, my right bicep involuntarily flexed, causing my right sleeve to rip completely. The restaurant manager gulped. "No, no, no... uh, you know what, we're fine. We're glad our service was to your satisfaction. We're good. You may leave." "Take this as a tip," I insisted, handing him seventy dollars. "And I'll be sure to recommend your restaurant to my friends." "Thank you, sir. Much appreciated." He took the money and hurried back to the kitchen, relieved. I proceeded to go back to my room. People stared at me as I walked. Part of my shirt and trousers were in tatters, so I thought that's why people were staring. I arrived at my room, removed my clothes, and looked at the bathroom mirror. The reflection depicted on the mirror shocked me. I looked like a professional bodybuilder. My muscles, even relaxed, were round and hard. Nowhere close in size as those of Black Hulk, but easily as big as those of the bodybuilders from the noughties era. I looked like Jay Cutler in his prime. No wonder people were staring at me, and no wonder that restaurant manager was stuttering. I started flexing, and my muscles responded beautifully. My biceps were particularly huge, perfect peaks of muscle flesh. My pectorals were thick and heavy. My abdominals were massive and well-defined. My quads were twice as big as before, and even my cock looked bigger. I felt it grow and harden as my eyes feasted on my own, hot, muscular body. I marveled at its size... easily two inches bigger than before, both in length and in circumference, and completely hairless - like the rest of me. My balls felt fuller and bigger, too. I then noticed a bathroom scale tucked away in the corner of the hotel room. I reached out for it, and stepped on it. My eyes couldn't believe it when the needle stopped at... 260lbs. My brain was trying to comprehend my new mass. Even if I assumed that the scales were not calibrated correctly, it still meant that I had somehow gained 70lbs of mass in a few hours. Even weirder, from what I saw in the mirror, all of this mass was added to my muscles and cock, and none of it went in my body as fat. "Wow," I finally gasped. "I look incredible." But, what caused this? My mind started to recall the earlier events of the day. Then I remembered. The spasms. The cum somehow magically disappearing inside me. Black Hulk! His cum must have done this to me. I didn't mind this at all, of course. In fact, I was grateful for this gift that he gave me. But, I had to go back to his room to have some answers. Problem was, I did not know what I was going to wear. Nothing fit me. I then decided to wear the swimpants I was wearing in the pool earlier. It was still wet, so I wrapped a towel round my waist. People won't ask too many questions, seeing me like this. It would look like I was going for a late pool dip. I arrived at his room. As I was going to knock on his door, I heard muffled voices speaking inside. One of them was of a lady, and she sounded upset about something. Then I heard Black Hulk's voice, seemingly trying to calm her down and reassure her. In the next few minutes, her voice took a different tone, and she seemed much more amiable. I heard them approach the door. "My clothes still fit me," I thought I heard the lady say. "I look really hot!" "You were hot before, too," I heard Black Hulk's voice say, "only now you're even hotter." "I'm ready. Let's go," she said. I decided to knock on the door, otherwise I'd be accused of overhearing their conversation. "It's me, Kris. Am I disturbing?" The door opened. Black Hulk was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, identical to those he wore with me at the restaurants, but, this time, the colours were inverted: the T-shirt was blue and the shorts were white. Then a lady appeared, who I recognized as the woman we met at the restaurant. She looked slightly different, but I couldn't put a finger into how. "Uh, hi Kris. This is Chloe. We were just... OH MY GOD WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?" ---------------- Chapter 4: Chloe's Transformation "I grew." I flexed a bicep. With little effort, it became as big as a grapefruit. "I grew a LOT," I continued. "And I wanted to ask YOU, man, what happened to ME, because YOU caused this." "Don't waste time, sexy," the girl who Black Hulk introduced as Chloe mused, "I have already asked him how he did THIS to ME, but he claims he does not know." With that, she lifted her dress, and I gasped. Her breasts were still really big, but now her belly was gone. Instead of it, she had a flat stomach, with visible, but faint, abdominals. Her arms looked narrower and more toned, as did her legs. "He transformed me into a fitness model," she continued, "just by, uh, having sex with me. I started to spasm uncontrollably, and when that was over, my body fat had melted, except for the fat in my breasts and butt." Wow, I thought to myself. What the fuck? "Listen, I already told you that I don't know what's happening. It's the truth," the immensely musclebound, black musclegod said. "And you - and I -love your new look, anyway." "That's besides the point. I look too hot, now, to work in any normal job. Do you think I can continue to be a journalist with a body like this?" she said. "I told you already, you can be my spokesperson. And you agreed, didn't you?" Black Hulk replied. "Yes, I did. And I'm looking forward to it. It gives me an amazing opportunity to be close to you. Although," turning to me, "Your friend Kris here is HOTTT too. Wow, look at that body!" "Thanks, Chloe, but if you're trying to seduce me, it's not working. That's not how I swing. Sorry to disappoint," I smiled. Honestly, however, she did look incredible. Perhaps I could make an exception with her... "Pity," she uttered. Then she changed the subject. "I'm starving to death here. Let's go eat something. Isn't that why we were leaving?", she said, as she lowered her dress again. "Hold on a minute," I said. "What did you say? You're hungry?" "Awfully so. I feel like I haven't eaten for an entire month," she answered. "Well, the same thing happened to me. I don't know if this super muscle god," - referring to Black Hulk - "told you, but we had steamy hot sex earlier today." I stopped, reminiscing those incredible, orgasming moments. "Anyway, my body also spasmed a bit, though only for a couple of seconds. Also, all of my body hair disappeared. Then, I started feeling REALLY hungry. I've just finished eating, actually. More than thirty platefuls of buffet food. And I could eat more, if I wanted to... after all that food, I feel like I've eaten a salad. That is how I got all these muscles." "Wait, so... if I eat, I'll grow muscles?" she mused. "Probably. Judging from what happened to me, anyway." Turning to the massive bodybuilder, I said, "that's why I came to your room, Henk, to demand an explanation." "And I don't have any," Black Hulk said. "I'll repeat what I said to Chloe. I'm as puzzled by what happened to each of you as you are. Honest to God." "So, let me get this straight. If I eat, I'll become big and muscular?" Chloe repeated. "This fitness body is hot, and I can certainly live with it. But, me being huge and buff, like both of you... I don't know if I can handle that. But... I'm SOOOO hungry, dammit!" "Look, uh, maybe it doesn't work the same way for women as it does for men" said the black, musclebound god, to try to calm down the situation. "Come on, let's go. I know of a place close by that offers huge servings; if you eat it all, you get it for free. You need to eat first, Chloe, then worry about what you look like later." "So THAT's how you solve this problem, huh?" snapped the lady. "I eat first, then worry about how I look like later?" "Have you got a better idea?" the insanely muscular hulking man answered, quietly. Then he continued, "Look, if it helps, I did not want to be this big, either. But I did become this big, and I learned to embrace my body." "What do you mean?" I interjected. "You started going to the gym to get bigger, right?" Black Hulk paused. Both my pair of eyes and Chloe's were on his. For once, we were not looking at his outrageously muscular body stretching his T-shirt and shorts to their absolute limits. Then, he broke the silence. "Would you believe me if I told you that I never set foot in any gym in my entire life?" "WHAT???" me and Chloe shouted simultaneously. "Look, man, that's simply not possible," I continued. "Nobody grows a body as huge, dense, and bulging with muscles as the one you possess without lifting stuff. Then again..." I paused, then continued, "nobody grows 70lbs of muscle in a couple of hours, either. So many weird things happened today that what you've just said could also be true!" Black Hulk nodded. "Is that how much you grew?" asked Chloe, still shaken by the events that have unravelled in the past few hours. "Yes. That's how much I grew." I answered. "I weighed 190lbs this morning. Now I weigh 260lbs." "Wow... then I will REALLY become buff, if that happens to me as well," Chloe mused. "Say, I wonder how much I weigh right now." She stepped on the scales, which, unlike those in my room, were actually easily accessible in this one. "Wow, I only weigh 145lbs. I lost 30lbs!" "Really? Then maybe that's what the spasms were doing... they were melting away your fat," I suggested. "Maybe that's why I did not spasm as much as you did, too." She was probably going to retaliate my last suggestion that she was fatter than I was with a tirade of verbal abuse, but then she felt her tight stomach rumble. "Hey, can we continue discussing this later? I kinda need food URGENTLY." "Sure. You're coming with us, Kris?" Black Hulk asked me. "I'd love to, but nothing fits me. Can I lend some clothes?" I asked. "I could, but I'm 6'4 and I outweigh you by almost 200lbs. You're only, like 5'9." "I don't mind. I can still wear something." Black Hulk rummaged in his luggage. "Here, try these," he told me after extracting a yellow, full-sleeved, shirt and black shorts. "I was going to give them to a lucky fan next Sunday. They're from my first ever Mr. O. win, when I was 380lbs. Sorry, that's the smallest item of clothing I've got." I went to his bathroom, and tried them on. They were definitely too big for me, even though I was a veritable bodybuilding specimen myself. But there was nothing better to wear. I adjusted the sleeves to fit on my body as well as possible, and came out of the bathroom. "This will have to do. Let's go." We hurried to the restaurant, which turned out to be a pizza place. The decor contained a few pictures of past Mr. Olympias. In the middle, there was a picture of Black Hulk from last year's contest, triumphantly flexing his left arm, a barely comprehensible basketball of power, and clutching the trophy with his right. Some of the other clients greeted the arrival of the man, who seemed so revered in this restaurant. The owner greeted us, too, and shook Black Hulk's hand. "Good to see you, Paul," the musclegod said to the owner. "This is Kris, and she is Chloe." "Nice to meet you all. Hope you enjoy my food! Today I've got the Black Hulk pizza. We usually serve it to a group of 6 to 8 people. If somebody of you eats it alone, he... or she... gets it for free!" "I accept the challenge," said Chloe promptly. "My, my, lady, you have a huge appetite," smiled Paul the restaurant owner. "Mind you, if you lose the challenge, you'll have to pay for the pizza. It's worth $80, but, since you're a friend of Black Hulk, I'll give you a discount." "She won't lose," said Black Hulk the person, grinning. "Me and Kris here will split another Black Hulk pizza. What do you say, Kris?" "That's fine by me," I said. "I guess we can manage that." "Cool. Two Black Hulks then! One of my servers will be right back in a moment with your pizzas!" He hurried to the kitchen. "Look, Chloe, bill's on me, so don't stress if you lose the challenge," the supermuscular hulk told Chloe, softly. "But, I'm rooting for you!" "I WILL win the challenge! I've never been so hungry! I swear if I don't have food in front of me in fifteen minutes, then I'll eat both of you alive!" She laughed at her own joke. She looked happy, and raring to go. I smiled at her joke. I was happy too. Today's events made me happy. I was grateful for today. In the space of a few hours, Black Hulk turned from a distant idol to a close friend, who gave me an incredible gift; the gift of massive muscle size. Actually, he gave me another gift: the gift of friendship. I looked at him, at that body, and smiled. Shit, looking at his magnificent, supermuscular, bulging body never gets old. My cock stirred in my pants. The pizzas soon arrive. They were indeed HUGE. They couldn't fit together on our table, so one of the servers combined another table close by to ours. The server bringing the pizzas was a girl. She gave one to Chloe and split the other one. "I'm Amanda, your server" said the girl. "I'll be making sure that none of you boys will be helping the lady with her challenge. Especially you, Black Hulk. Pleased to meet you, by the way. You are even bigger than the pictures suggest." "That's what everyone tells me. Pleased to meet you too, Amanda. I'll be a good boy; I won't help Chloe here in any way!" Black Hulk answered, winking at the girl. The moment her pizza was served in front of her, Chloe began wolfing it down. It was a bit hilarious, in a way, seeing this 145lbs, 5'7 woman eating such a huge pizza. Not only was the pizza huge, but it was also topped with lots of ingredients: pepperoni, minced meat, artichoke hearts, tomato, peas, onion, green pepper, olives, and, of course, cheese. Me and my impossibly-muscular friend started to eat ours. The pizza was, indeed, delicious. Chloe was on a mission, eating a quarter of the pizza before we had even eaten our first slice. She didn't say anything, just ate and ate and ate. Amanda, for her part, had her eyes transfixed on Black Hulk. His upper body bounced and flexed involuntarily as he ate the pizza. She saw the bulging pecs and arms, and swallowed hard. She went in a dream-like state, as if she was thinking about a raunchy situation - indeed, her face turned slightly red. "Amanda, you should keep your focus on Chloe here, you know..." the monumental musclegod told her, grinning. "Uh, yes, sure, sure, I'm completely focused on what she's doing," the girl stammered. But she really wasn't, of course. She was mesmerized by Black Hulk, the supermuscular god of male bodybuilding perfection. Chloe was already on the sixth slice of the 16-slice pizza. She had already eaten more than two person's worth of food. By contrast, I was on my third slice, and Black Hulk was on his second. I watched, fascinated. It looked like her dress was slightly tighter around her bosom and shoulders. While eating her eighth slice, there was the sound of tearing fabric. Chloe seemed not to notice, and continued eating. Glancing at her, I noticed that her dress had ripped slightly from her back. She continued to eat and eat, amid more tearing sounds of her clothes. Black Hulk only ate two slices, then said he ate enough. I managed to eat six slices; not bad, considering I had eaten so much only an hour before. Now, however, I was really full. We could only stare at Chloe eating her pizza and, seemingly unbeknownst to her, growing out of her clothes. Meanwhile, the server girl, Amanda, was barely noticing what was happening to Chloe either. She was still apparently daydreaming about Black Hulk's gigantic slabs of muscle being proudly displaying through his overstretched clothing. She couldn't stop staring at him. I saw her grinding her feet together. Wow, Black Hulk's effect on some people is so strong. But, really, I understand Amanda's reaction to him; after all, I had a similar reaction to him, and probably so did Chloe. Chloe was now two slices away from eating an entire Black Hulk pizza. Her eating rate was steady; she never once took a break. I understood better than anyone how she was doing it, since I went through the same thing a few hours before. People were now approaching our table to witness this busty 5'7 woman manage the feat set by the pizza owner. I noticed her arms were now not just toned, but there were clear biceps, and even triceps, where none were before. She was much wider, too, which was part of the reason why her dress was ripping from her back. Finally, she did it. The last morsel of the pizza was consumed. Everyone cheered. Hearing these sudden cheers, Amanda snapped to her senses, and congratulated Chloe. Sensing that her job was done, she hurried back to help with the other tables. "That's amazing, Chloe. You ate a pizza made for 8 people!" I enthused. "I... I'm still hungry. Can I eat what's left of your pizza?" she meekly uttered. I gasped. "Uh... sure, sure. That's okay with you too, right, Henk?" "Yeah, go ahead. Better not let it go to waste. I'll go to the bathroom in the meantime," said the immensely muscular man after which the pizza was named. Just then, Amanda came out with a tray of drinks for some other table, and noticed the enormous bodybuilder walking to the bathroom. She quickly served the table, then hurried to meet Black Hulk before he entered the restroom. He somehow was not surprised by her; he looked like he was actually waiting for her to meet him there. She entered a staff-only room and invited the huge musclehulk in. After a while, I decided to investigate. "What's taking Black Hulk so long? I'll go see if everything is okay," I told Chloe. Of course, I knew what was happening. I went outside the door marked 'Staff Only', and immediately I could hear moaning and heavy breathing, and an 'oh my god, you're fucking huge!'. Yeah, as I suspected, the black musclegod was making out with the waitress. I went back to my seat. Chloe was almost finished with her pizza. "You okay, Chloe?" I asked her. "Yes, Kris. I'm starting to be full. After eating this last pizza slice, I should be satiated" she said, happily. "You know that you grew, right?" I asked her, softly. "Yes, I know. I actually liked it. How my body was making my dress small. How it couldn't contain it. It felt so good. In fact, I WANTED to grow muscles." I was taken aback by this confession. Just then, Black Hulk came back, looking sprightly as usual. Amanda was close behind him, slightly red-faced, but smiling widely. I went next to my massively muscled friend. "Hey, I know what you did back there," I whispered in his ear. "Yeah, she wanted to see me without my T-shirt. I obliged. Then she grinded her pussy against my right quad until she orgasmed loudly. That's it," Black Hulk whispered back. "After what happened to you two, I'm more careful now," he continued. "Okay, I'm satisfied now!" said Chloe suddenly, chewing the last morsel of our pizza. "Thank you, Black Hulk, for the free pizza, it was delicious!" "Sure, Chloe. I guess it's time for us to go back to the hotel, then. Let's pay and leave," Black Hulk said. He winked at Amanda. She came quickly. He gave her a hundred dollar bill. Paul the restaurant owner came by, to make sure we were satisfied by the food. After assuring him that we indeed were, we left. It was late, almost midnight. Chloe's dress was barely managing to hold her visibly wider frame. I still had a million questions to ask Black Hulk. How did all of this happen? Was it true that he never went to the gym? How did he get so huge, then? Was he somehow affected by someone's cum, the way his cum affected me and Chloe? As I was pondering these things, Chloe suddenly turned to me and said, "Hey, Kris, uh, you have already gone through what I'm going through. Would you mind if you sleep in my room tonight? My room has a double bed, because they couldn't find me a room with a single bed. I... I just want to make sure that nothing happens to me, you know?" "Uh, sure, sure Chloe," I answered. Then, referring to the black, tall, musclebound bodybuilder, I continued "Good night, Black Hulk. And thank you. Today was the best day of my life." "You're welcome, buddy. See you tomorrow at 8. We have breakfast together, okay? And see you too, Chloe. I'll extend your stay a couple more nights, from my own money." And we parted ways. Chloe and I entered her room. It was almost identical to mine, except it had a double bed, as she said. Almost immediately, she removed her dress, shamelessly in front of me, and went in front of the mirror. She gasped at her new, muscular body. Actually, so did I. I'm gay, but this woman was packing so much muscle that this was actually turning me on. Then came a huge surprise. She turned round, removed her bra and her panties, and cooed, in a really sexy voice, "You've feasted your eyes on MY body. Now let me feast my eyes on that sexy bod of yours, Kris." ---------------- Chapter 5: Kris and Chloe Make Out I was taken aback. "Uh, Chloe... you know I'm gay, right?" "Tell that to the bulge between your legs, honey," she replied, pointing to my crotch. "Besides, I only wanted to see your body, not to fuck me." "Fair's fair," I said. And, with that, I removed my oversized shirt, and my shorts. These clothes had made me forget how massively muscular I had become. "Jesus, Kris, you're fucking massive." Chloe's jaws dropped. "You look even bigger than before." "Yes, that could be the case, since I ate almost half a pizza, rememb..." "Oh, shut up. I don't care. All I care about is being in this sea of bulging, sexy, thick, hard muscle." With that, she started feeling my traps, my shoulders, my pectorals. On every bodypart she felt, she moaned appreciatively. "Shit, you're built like a brick shithouse. You're so hot. You're making me so fucking horny," she murmured. This was an absolute first for me. Usually, I'm the person who says these kind of things to another man. This role reversal was unexpected. However, I felt horny, too. Really horny. This woman was turning me on so bad. Her hands traversed my abdominals, a six pack of ripped musculature, then my butt, composed of incredible, striated glutes. I slowly removed my pants. I had to. She smiled. "For a gayboy, you're really turned on right now," she laughed. "Shut up." I admit, I was hurt by her comment. "Good, I hurt your pride. That's what a real man..." she started, but I stopped her. I shoved my half-hard cock in her mouth, and forced her to suck it. Even though she was considerably strong, she was no match for my much bigger strength. "Mmmmmphmphmmphmmphmmppphh!" she complained. The more she struggled, the more turned on I got. Her eyes bugged out as my cock expanded in her mouth. Suddenly I was apprehensive, and let her go. She lashed out at me. "What the FUCK, Kris?" "I... I'm sorry, Chloe. I don't know what hit me. I swear..." "Shut up, silly. I actually LIKED that. A lot. I like it when you're rough. Hey, I can take a beating!" she smiled, as she flexed her biceps, turning them into considerable mountains of female musculature. "In fact," she continued, as she went down on her knees, "let me show you how much I liked that." She took my now hard cock in her mouth, and started to suck it, while her hands tugged at it with all her might. "God, oh GOD, yes, that's good, baby... so, so GOOD. Fuck, you're so good," I was murmuring non-stop. She disengaged her mouth. I was rock hard. My cock felt really huge and thick. Bigger than ever. Probably because it was. "Let's get to bed, honey," she cooed. We did. The double-bed creaked as it took the mass of our considerably developed bodies. I put a finger in her pussy. It was soaking wet. Chloe moaned, and bit her lower lip. "Let me be on top," Chloe whispered. "Let me ride you. I know, this must be strange for you. Sorry about earlier, calling you a gayboy. You're an incredibly handsome man with unreal muscles. You turn me on so bad. I say silly things when I'm turned on. Let me make it up to you." She plunged her soaking wet vagina on my superhard cock. It felt great. My cock felt like it was being sucked by a thousand tiny mouths. So this is what a pussy feels like, huh? I thought. Hmm, that doesn't feel half-bad. In fact, it feels fantastic. Chloe started to ride me. Her ample breasts bounced with each of her thrusts. I was never enamoured with female breasts at all, but now, they suddenly looked really hot. In fact, Chloe looked fucking hot, from head to toe. And not because she was a muscle beast. She was hot because she was a really, really sexy human being, like Black Hulk is, only in a very different way. Her moans got quicker and higher-pitched, as she neared orgasm. Wow, I thought, a woman is going to orgasm because of me? That's so hot. I saw her eyes roll backwards, then her mouth let out a really loud moan. She was in orgasmic bliss. She orgasmed hard. Her body shook all over. Her orgasm was long. It took, like, more than half a minute. All the while, she was convulsing in sexual delirium, and moaning, almost shouting, in delight. Now I'm not obviously an expert in fucking females, but I thought that this wasn't normal. Seeing her climaxing for so long because of me turned me on SOOO much, though. I couldn't believe it. My body, my power, my muscles, must have done this to her. What happened to me? Why am I fucking a woman? Why am I enjoying it so much? Before a few hours ago, my sexual fantasies always involved being with a huge, muscular guy fucking me from behind. Well, I still find that fucking hot. But now, my fantasies are also including people worshipping my muscles and sucking my long, thick, hard cock, which then fucks them hard until they orgasm uncontrollably. Yes, I want to fuck this super sexy, hot woman HARD. "Oh fuck, that orgasm was so intense... your cock is so good! God, that orgasm continued to roll and roll, like a wave... I never felt anything like it!" she enthused, when her orgasm finally subsided. "Now it's my turn, sexy!" I told her. I sat up and grabbed her from her ample back, making her huge breasts squish against my upper body. She was very muscular, but I was stronger, and could easily lift her entire body in this way if I wanted to. Then I started to fuck her, pushing my cock inside her moist pussy. She appeared to like this; her eyes closed and her mouth went slightly wide. I continue fucking her, upping my pace little by little. Soon I felt my orgasm nearing, and I started moaning, first slowly, then more frequently. She sensed my climax was near. "Shoot inside me, honey, gimme your sperm!" I did. And how. "Oh, fuck, FUCKKKK, OHHHHH I'm CUMMINGGG! OHH YESS, OHHH, OHHHHH... it's still going... OOOHHHHOOHHHOHHH SHIIITTT! Ohh god, GOD here it COMESS AGAIN HOLY SHITTT... OHH FUCKK IT'S NOT STOPPINGG! OH MY GODDDD! OHHHH GOD YESS!" I came buckets. My orgasm must have taken way more than half a minute, perhaps even a full minute. It felt so intense, so amazing, so pleasurable, so powerful. That was, undoubtedly, my most satisfying orgasm of my entire life, easily topping my three powerful orgasms I had with Black Hulk a few hours ago. "Holy fuck, that felt REALLY good! I also felt it, the orgasm coming in waves of sexual pleasure." I was almost laughing with pleasure. Chloe was also grinning widely. She disengaged my cock off her pussy. A pool of my hot, white cum poured out of her vagina. "You know, Kris, I thought 'here we go again' when you cummed inside me. Your orgasm felt very similar to Black Hulk's, both in duration and in intensity. But no, your cum was not absorbed inside me, like his did. That's... that's a relief, I guess." "It is," I confirmed. "I never came so much in my life, though. Not even close. Black Hulk must have given us more than one gift. It's not normal for your orgasms to take that long, right?" "No, it's not. It left me completely satisfied, though. It felt better than 10 of my usual multi-orgasms." Then, she looked at my body, again. "God, you're so hot. Your muscles are so thick, so bulging with power. You fucked me there like I weighed nothing to you. Even though I feel very strong myself, and weigh considerably more than an average woman." With that, she climbed out of the bed, and lifted the end of the bed, with myself on it, supporting the bed on only its two front legs. "Wow, girl. You ARE strong. I'm sure many men are incapable of doing that," I enthused. Chloe placed the bed back in its original position. "You know, that surprised even myself," she admitted. "Is there a scale here? I want to find my weight." "If this room is like mine, there should be one stowed away behind the corner of the room, near the door," I said. "Ah yes, there it is. Here goes nothing." She stepped on the scales. "180lbs. Wow, I gained 35lbs. Probably more, since this is my naked weight. Holy shit." "You know, Chloe, your body is not biologically possible," I suddenly said. "What do you mean?" "Your breasts are beautiful and large. So is your butt. On the other hand," I continued, "the rest of your body is completely devoid of fat. This is clear from how apparent are your muscles. Now, that's impossible, because, when females gain or lose fat..." "... they gain or lose it in their breasts, first," Chloe continued. "Precisely. In fact, many female bodybuilders look like men for exactly this reason. To make their muscles visible, they need to lose fat, and they end up literally without breasts. That's why some of them resort to plastic surgery to augment their breasts back. But you... your breasts are enormous, and are mostly fat, and your hips are still very female-like. That's... biologically impossible." "Another gift from Black Hulk?" "Probably. Man, I have so many questions to ask him tomorrow." I then climbed on the scales myself. "Hmm... 270lbs. I gained 10lbs from the pizza restaurant." "You know, I think I'm ready for another round of powerful sex," teased Chloe, as she rubbed my back, feeling its rippling, muscular power. And we spent the rest of the night fucking, fucking and then fucking some more. * * * My phone woke me up. It was 7:30am. Yesterday was a great day. I met two incredibly beautiful persons. I fucked them hard. The sex felt incredible, way better than the sex I perform in my porn movies. They grew after I fucked them. That's weird; that never happened with any of the porn actors. Maybe because I never orgasm inside porn actors - that's strictly prohibited in my contract. Let's hope they don't ask too many questions about that. I stretched my monstrous, black arms and climbed out of the bed. I hope Chloe and Kris wake up in time. You see, I asked the receptionist to extend Chloe's stay for two more nights before I slept yesterday, from my own money. The receptionist rejected the offer, because her room was already booked for today by somebody else. However, he arranged that Chloe switch to my room, so that it becomes a two-person room from a one-person room. I accepted this change - after all, it's cheaper too. So, after asking the receptionist for her room number, I went to tell her the news. However, I heard moans of sexual pleasure when I arrived at her door. She was probably having sex with Kris. So I decided to tell her the news when we meet for breakfast tomorrow. Suddenly, my cellphone rang. "Hello?" "Hi, is this Mr. Henk Kuria?" "Yes, speaking." "Good morning, Mr. Kuria. I'm Tony Halep from the IFBB. You have been chosen for a random doping test ahead of your participation in the Mr. Olympia contest this weekend." "Uh, okay, and what does that... entail, exactly?" I asked. "We'll need you to provide a urine sample by noon today." Shit. That's bad news. Like, really, really terrible news. "Hello? Mr. Kuria? Are you still there?" "Yes, yes, uh, Mr. ... Halep." "We can collect the sample from backstage, don't worry. The prejudging starts at 7pm, as you know, but I'm sure you were going to be here earlier... unless you do a no-show like you did yesterday for the press conference." "Uh, yes, Mr. Halep... I'll be there... at noon," I stammered. "Good. See you then, Mr. Kuria." "Uh, see you." And the line went dead. "Shit, I'm in trouble. Better wake up the others." I said to myself. I dressed quickly, feeling my monstrous, black, hyper muscles stretch the T-shirt and shorts to their limits. I paused... shit, the clothes hugging my huge muscles always feels so good. Then I hurried to Chloe's room, and knocked on her door. "Chloe, Kris, wake up. It's me, Henk." No response. I knocked harder. "Chloe! Kris! It's 8 in the morning. We need to have breakfast together, remember?" Still no response. "Come on, Kris! Chloe! Anyone! Wake up!" as I banged on the door, hoping for someone to wake up. Well, I must have hit on the door a bit too powerfully, because it suddenly gave way, and it fell into their room with a loud bang! The sound was deafening, but, strangely, whoever was inside did not budge. I decided to enter. "Kris? Chloe?" But there was no one there. Then I looked at the door, flat on the ground. There was a number written on it: 427. "Shit, I'm on the wrong floor, I should be on the fifth!" And, with that, I ran the stairs to the fifth floor, and double-checked that I was in front of the right room. 527. Good. I knocked on the door. "Chloe! Kris! Wake up! It's me, Henk." No response. "Come on, Kris, Chloe, please." Then I heard Chloe. "Uuuhhhh... can't we sleep a little more... we're tired." "It's 8 in the morning. Come on. We need to have breakfast soon." The door opened. Chloe was still naked. Her body was perfectly muscular and curvy. She was, simply, a goddess. I never saw another woman as muscular as her, not even among the female pros. At the same time, her figure was sexier than any female pornstar I fucked. She was stunningly hot and massively muscular at the same time. I entered, and closed the door quickly. A massive stink greeted me... the stink of dry cum. "Fuck... did you... holy shit, you both stink of cum." "We do. But we're gonna shower quickly," said Kris, as he woke up. He, too, was naked. He looked gloriously handsome and muscular. Certainly the second biggest muscleman in the world, second only to me. His cock rivalled mine in terms of size. "Good to see you, Black Hulk." "Wow, Kris. And I swore you were gay." "I was. But have you seen Chloe? I mean, holy shit. She's, like, perfection incarnate." "She is. And, so are you, you know." I said. "All thanks to you, man. You still haven't told us how you did it." "I'll tell you today. But first, can you shower quickly? And no more sex, for now, please. Although, admittedly, you do look like a sex god and a sex goddess." "Yeah, let's shower. But we need to buy some clothes that fit us," said Chloe, as she entered the shower. Kris followed her, and they showered and rubbed each other's bodies with soap. This, of course, turned them on considerably. They started to touch each other's sexual organs. But then they decided enough was enough for that day. They turned off the shower and stepped outside, drying in the towels. "Guys, I have a problem." I confessed. "Long story short, I need to provide a urine sample by noon." "Yeah, so? We have ample time to have breakfast, go shopping for clothes, and then go to the contest by noon," said Kris while drying off his huge muscles. "You don't understand... I cannot give a urine sample!" I told them. "Uh... why not? You didn't take... drugs, didn't you?" Chloe said, as she dried her ample breasts. "So THAT's what you didn't want to tell us, huh?" "No, no, of course I didn't," I said. "You took a diuretic this morning. Right? Is that it? Honestly, these diuretics rules are bullshit," Kris mused. "It's not that, either." "Then, what is it?" they asked, together. "Because... because I haven't urinated for the past three and a half years." ---------------- Chapter 6: The Origin of Black Hulk (Three and a half years ago.) I met Chitundu a few weeks ago. He was tall and handsome, with a nice, ripped body. I was actually slightly taller, at 6'4, but I was skinny, and weighed only 155lbs. But he liked me. We were a gay couple, in a country, Kenya, where being gay is punished harshly. I've heard of a friend going to 10 years imprisonment because they caught him having sex with another man. Another gay couple were beaten to death. Indeed, that gay couple was us. We were enjoying ourselves, in a barn. After rubbing each other's bodies and turning each other on, Chitundu penetrated my ass. It felt great, being fucked by my soulmate. But then, suddenly, the barn door burst open, and four men, armed with sticks and tree branches, started beating us left right and centre. They insulted us, calling us things like 'filthy pigs', 'homos', and 'nasty animals' as we succumbed to their beatings. Soon, I lost consciousness. When I came to, I was still in the barn, covered in blood. I tried to move, but it ached horribly. They must have broken a few of my bones. I tried to see if Chitundu was there with me. Somehow, I managed to spot him. He was motionless. "Chitundu! Chitundu!" I called him, weakly. But he didn't respond. "Help! Help us! Please! We were assaulted! Help!" I tried shouting, but my voice was feeble. I was trying hard to stay conscious, but I drifted away again. When I woke up, I found myself on a bed, in a make-shift clinic. I was alone. Somebody must have found us, and took us to some kind of hospital. I had bandages all over. "Hello? Hello?" I called. Soon, a white man dressed in white overalls came in. "Oh, you're up, thank God," he said, in an American accent. "What's your name?" "Henk. I'm Henk." I answered. "Do you have family?" "No, I don't. My parents were both from Kenya, although my Dad had Dutch ancestors. My family died in the polio plague, though, a few years ago. I live with Chitundu, the other guy. Who are you?" "You're in very bad shape," he said, ignoring my question. "You've got a broken arm, a broken leg, and at least three broken ribs. You also have countless bruises and cuts, some of which are infected, and others starting to get infected. Unfortunately, I don't have the necessary tools and equipment here to mend you adequately." "Where am I? Where's Chitundu? And who are you?" I asked him. "That's not important right now. What's important is that you're safe here, for the time being. I'll soon try an experimental cure on you. It's the only way you can heal completely, but it's never been tested on anyone." "Wait, I don't want an experimental cure!" I cried. "It's either this, or you die by the end of the week," the white guy in white overalls said firmly. "Okay, okay then. Please, I don't want to die. I've only just turned 20." "If you believe in my methods, you won't die, Henk. Trust me," the white man said, smiling faintly. "Now, I'll soon administer a rectal suppository." "What's that?" "It's medicine that is administered through your rectum... your... butthole," the mysterious white man said. "This is very modern, cutting-edge technology. I travelled from America to Kenya because my studies show that Kenyans' DNA should accept this medicine better than the DNA of any other person coming from a different country." He paused, then told me, "I need you to help me turn you over." With a lot of pain and suffering, I managed to do a quarter-turn. "That's enough. Thank you, Henk," as he produced a bullet-sized device. He quickly literally shoved it in my butt. My butt muscles accepted the device, and it was inside me. Suddenly, I started spasming uncontrollably. Each spasm was really painful, due to my broken ribs. I started shouting frantically in pain. But, after a while, the pain started to subside. Eventually, after about ten minutes of spasming, the pain had disappeared completely, and the spasms soon stopped. "How do you feel now, Henk?" the white man asked. I turned around to face him. "Much better. The pain is gone completely. In fact, I think I've never felt better." "Good, Henk, I'm glad. The experimental medicine was a success. It should have mended all your broken bones, and healed you completely." I started touching my arm, my leg, my torso. No pain at all. "Wow, it must have! It just works... just like that?" "Yes, just like that. That's the miracle of science," he said, smiling. "I'll need to keep you here for some more tests, but the initial impressions look very encouraging." I suddenly remembered my friend. "Where's Chitundu?" I asked again. The man in the white overalls sighed. "I'm sorry, Henk. He's... gone." I started crying. I lost the only acquaintance I had. "I'm really sorry," the white man tried to console me. "I couldn't do anything for him. He was already dead when I found both of you." Then I felt it. A big stomach rumble. I clutched my stomach. "Do you have something to eat... uh... Doctor?" I asked, amid tears still rolling down my eyes. "I'm hungry." "Sure. In fact, I have something better," the man in the white overalls said. "I predicted that you should feel really hungry after the medicine has performed its... uhm... magic. So I'm going to give you food through a pipe from your nose to your stomach. I'll be monitoring you, don't worry." The man motioned to a large tank, which, apparently, contained food in liquid form, and drew a thin pipe out of it. I winced slightly as the pipe got through my nose, but it wasn't that bad. The man in the white overalls switched on the tank, and that was that. "I'll be in the next room. Please, for your own safety and well-being, do not leave the room. Even more importantly, under no circumstances should you remove the pipe from your nose," the mysterious man said. "Thanks, doc, for saving my life," I told him. He smiled faintly, and left. I tried to be motionless, but soon I was getting bored. Even though I was still naked, I was, at least, covered by a white bedsheet. I started feeling a bit awkward in certain positions, so I tried to shift my body to be more comfortable. After a little while longer, I was feeling... more built? My arms were not twigs anymore, but were getting a bit more manly. My pectorals weren't practically non-existent anymore, but were filling up nicely. My stomach, which was a washboard, was now getting slight hints of abdominal muscle. I was growing muscle, at a steady pace. This wasn't stopping, either. I was getting bigger and bigger. I shifted my legs a bit further away, because they were thicker and were hitting my balls. This felt really good. My arms were now quite thick, and my biceps were now much more prominent. My pectorals were big and strong. At this point, I thought I was as big as Chitundu. But my growth did not stop. Even my bedsheets now took a different shape, due to my bulging muscles beneath them. "This feels so good," I said to myself. I felt my cock getting bigger. I was getting turned on. I started to slowly stroke it, under the bedsheets. I was surprised how huge it felt. I moaned softly to myself, as my strokes became faster. All the while, my muscles were still getting bigger and bigger; I was as big as a fitness trainer now. "God, I'm gonna cum!" I murmured to myself, so turned on by my own expanding body. And cum I did. An orgasm that soaked up my bedsheets completely, that lasted at least half a minute. I must have been moaning really loudly, because, mid-way through my orgasm, the man in the white labcoat returned, alarmed. "Oh, my, you're masturbating!" he said. "That's a relief... I thought you were moaning in pain. Oh my, that's an astonishing amount of semen... I've never seen anything like that in my life. Wow." The white man's jaw dropped. Then, when my climax had finished, he said, "Let me change your bedsheets." I had, indeed, finally done blasting cum, but I was still growing muscles. I sat up on the bedside, naked, with my increasingly muscular body now plainly visible. The man in white was shocked. "What is happening here? This is an unexpected side-effect," he said, more to himself than to myself. He hurried to change my bedsheets, and I covered myself again. "Sorry I masturbated. But, my growing muscles... feel so good," I said. "Tell me, Henk, are you still hungry?" the white man asked me. "Yes. Still hungry." "Okay. Try not to masturbate until the machine finishes its job, okay?" "Okay, doc," I sheepishly said. "By the way, my name is James, and I'm actually a molecular biologist." And, he left. I was getting turned on again. But, I resisted the urge of touching my dick. My muscles were still getting bigger. My biceps now looked as big as volleyballs. Touching them, they felt amazingly powerful and hard. My pecs were like two sacks of gravel. It was like somebody was pumping them up, inflating them like balloons. Except they were hard as diamonds, not soft and squishy. My abdominals were like six... no, eight, perfectly-placed, hard bricks. My thighs were like monstrous barrels. I was wider, too, to the point that my shoulders and biceps couldn't fit under the bedsheet anymore. Finally, my hunger was abating. James, the molecular biologist, or so he claimed to be, returned. "Hello, Henk. Everything alright?" "More than alright. I feel like a god," I truthfully answered. He switched off the machine, and removed the pipe off my nose. Almost all the liquid food inside the machine was gone. I had somehow absorbed all of that food inside me, during the past hour or so. "That's it, then. Good as new. Literally," James said. "I wish I'd keep you a little more while I do a few tests on you, to see exactly what caused this... muscular side-effect, and if other side-effects manifest themselves in due time." "Sure. I don't have anywhere to go now. Might as well stay here. And I don't have any clothes, either, so it's useless to leave," I said, matter-of-factly. James not only did a few tests on me, but treated me like a son. He bought me clothes and brought me meals. Another side-effect he noticed was that I never urinated or defecated anymore. It seemed like any food and drink intake was being completely used to sustain my body, to grow bigger muscles and to produce sperm - a lot of sperm, for that matter. He also noticed that I did not have a single hair below my neck. Looking at my skin under a microscope, he noticed that I had no hair follicles at all, from my neck downwards. His medicine must be completely focused on improving my body all the time, and it had no reasons to produce by-products like body hair and feces, he theorized. Once he was finished with his experiments, he proposed that I fly to America with him. Since I had no family in Kenya, I gladly accepted. My passport and visa took a little while to be issued, but, finally, me and James were in America. I started working in construction. My workmates were astonished by my strength and muscles. I could lift stuff with one arm that required the strength of two men. One of my workmates, Steve, was gay. He once literally threw himself on my body while I was showering. I fucked him and came all over his body. That was the first time I was the one doing the fucking, rather than being on the receiving end of a fuck. It felt so good. Steve loved it, too; he told me he was never so turned on in his life. This 'love affair' continued for a little while. After earning a bit of money, I could afford living in an apartment alone. It was hard leaving James, after what he has done to me. James understood, but asked to keep in touch. I agreed. People stared at me wherever I went. Once, a lady stopped me while walking outside my apartment, and asked me where I worked out. I told her that I didn't. "Jesus, you've got crazy genetics, honey. You should become a pro bodybuilder!" she suggested. "Bodybuilder? What's that?" I asked, curiously. The lady was surprised. Then she told me, "Google it, honey. You'll know." A minute later, she was inside my apartment, and I was fucking her senseless. She orgasmed several times, and I erupted my dick's contents all over her naked, curvy body. It was at this point that I realized that I was not necessarily gay, but that women turned me on, too. Especially women who literally drooled over my incredible, mountainous, enormously muscular black body. I did follow her suggestion. Pictures of men and women with huge muscles emerged off Google. But none had muscles bigger than mine. I dwarfed even the biggest, most muscular bodybuilder. I learnt that there were contests for bodybuilders. The most prestigious one was called 'Mr. Olympia'. I decided to take part. The IFBB were shocked by my size, so they decided to throw me in as a wildcard. Guess what: I won the contest, beating 9-time Mr. Olympia Phil Heath comprehensively, coming literally from nowhere. People started calling me 'Black Hulk', and it stuck. I became an overnight sensation. I did magazine photo shoots, interviews, documentaries... the list goes on and on. I even starred in a movie cameo. People couldn't get enough of my size. They couldn't believe that I was a 6'4, 380lbs supermuscular man with only 4% bodyfat. Men and women, young and old; everyone wanted to know about me, or drool over my hypermuscular body, or both. The photo shoots exposed something else about me: my dick, apparently, was much bigger than average. This prompted some porn houses to call me, asking if I would consider being a pornstar. I told them I'd do it, for the right price. And so my first porn movie was born, where I fucked this woman with an outrageously big, but fake, ass, called Lela Star. The camerapersons were astonished at my stamina, and how my cock stayed hard throughout the whole shoot, without me needing to take breaks or taking substances to keep my penis hard. Lela Star later confessed with me that it was the first time that she orgasmed for real, on set. I took that as a big compliment. Two hours after the porn flick shoot, I was fucking her again, in her house. My sexual stamina was insatiable; I could perform amazing sex after only half an hour of having my cum erupting from my huge dick. After the success of my first porn movie, more and more porn producers asked for my services, including gay companies. I accepted the gay porn acts too, automatically revealing to the world that I was bisexual. The IFBB called me after this, telling me that my bisexual lifestyle was 'damaging their reputation'. I told them, with contempt and disgust, that, apparently, the fact that Mr. Olympia is a pornstar does not damage the IFBB's reputation, but the fact that Mr. Olympia fucks other men does. Year after year, I continued to grow bigger muscles, albeit at a slower pace. On average, I was gaining 20lbs of muscle every year. And in 2023, as a 6'4, 440lbs ultramuscular bodybuilder, I walked in this hotel to participate in my fourth Mr. Olympia contest. * * * I ended up withdrawing from the contest, and resigning from the IFBB as a professional bodybuilder with immediate effect. That was the first thing that Chloe had to do as my spokesperson: announcing that I was not going to produce a urine sample and withdrawing from the contest, citing lack of transparency in doping tests. As a former journalist, she knew what kind of questions journalists ask, and she handled the press brilliantly. I was enormously proud of her. Although maybe, some of the journalists could have also been a little intimidated by this muscular spokeswoman... An uproar ensued, with people furious about having bought tickets for the Mr. O. to see me in action, only to see me announce my withdrawal. Most of them blamed the IFBB for their hypocritical way in which they do doping tests. In order to calm down the situation, I suggested that I could do a free posing routine after all the contestants do theirs, a routine which did not have anything to do with the contest; it was just a bit of entertainment for the public. The IFBB liked this idea, and, after negotiating the right price, I agreed to do it. I got Kris with me, backstage, of course, to 'rub oil' on my massive, bulging, huge muscles. Kris wasn't out of place among these contestants at all; he was easily as big as the biggest Mr. O. contestant there. Mamdouh Elssbiay, who most people called 'Big Ramy', came over and expressed sadness at what happened to me. He also congratulated Kris on his physique. I sincerely wished him all the best during the contest. "You know," he told me, "thanks to your withdrawal, I'm really in with a shot this year. But I'm not sure if I'll win it next year, if Kris here decides to participate." Long story short, Big Ramy did end up winning that Mr. Olympia contest for the first time. In so doing, the Mr. Olympia trophy was transferred from an African man to another African. But the plaudits went for me. The audience erupted in applause when I set foot on stage, and shouted 'Black Hulk, Black Hulk' repeatedly in support. Chloe suggested to wear my posing pants a little lower than usual, to reveal juuuuust a little cock, to spite the IFBB. After all, I was doing this just for fun, not to compete. The audience loved it. I wowed them with my physique as much as I could. As I was leaving the stage, the audience erupted and wanted more. I got back to the stage and did my customary bicep pose where my bicep inflates bigger and bigger and BIGGER. Some of the audience audibly gasped at the impossible size of my flexed bicep. Then I left the stage, this time for good. When I returned to the hotel, I was informed that the security cameras on the fourth floor detected a person of my size ripping off the door of room number 427... ---------------- Epilogue It's been four years since that Mr. Olympia contest; since Kris and Chloe received 'the gift', as we started calling it. I grew even bigger since then. Still at 6'4, I now weigh 500lbs of solid, massive, freaky, black muscle beef. I settled down with Chloe and Kris, and we three live together in my apartment. They are both incredible human specimens in their own right, not just physically, but also emotionally and, why not, sexually too. So I thought, why not? My job is now full time as a porn actor, sometimes even shooting 'amateur' footage with Kris, Chloe, or both. Life is good. Kris is now a superhuman god of muscle development. Incredibly, even though he's only 5'9, which is more than half a foot less than I'm tall, he weighs a scale-crushing 510lbs of incomprehensible slabs of immense muscle - 10lbs MORE than I do. His secret? Well, he still eats well and goes to the gym regularly - unlike me. His muscle development is really insane. The Internet calls him 'Blond Hulk', and I find it quite appropriate. Due to how much shorter Blond Hulk is than I am, his muscles appear much, much bigger than mine. Of course, sex with him is as insanely hot as his muscles, if not more. Recently, he fucked me, rather than vice-versa, and then I fucked him back. It's good to finally have someone with the necessary muscle to fuck Black Hulk; I kinda missed the feeling of being fucked from behind. Kris never competed as a professional bodybuilder, partly because the IFBB dissolved itself a year ago. More on that later. Chloe is also an incredible muscle specimen. She now weighs 225lbs, which, on her 5'7 frame, is really quite a sight to behold. Her muscles are really dense - probably denser than mine or Kris'. She's still got two magnificent orbs of breastflesh jutting out of her pecs, and her biologically impossible hourglass figure is still definitely eye-turning. She's still my spokesperson - now for my porn endeavours, though. People call her 'Curvy She-Hulk' online... I kinda like it! Of course, our lives does not revolve solely into having just us three as sex partners, fucking each other. Part of why we're in this porn business is our extremely sexual lifestyle. We cannot do otherwise; 'the gift' forces us to have frequent sex, or, at the very least, masturbate often. When Kris, Chloe or I go out to eat alone, or go to buy some new clothes, or whatever, it's not unusual that one of us picks some hot guy or girl and give him or her a bit of sexual bliss. If we really like the person, Kris or I ensure that we orgasm inside their pussy, or butthole, thus giving that person 'the gift', slowly turning them into a veritable god or goddess - just like I did to Kris and Chloe four years ago. Interestingly, we recently discovered that Chloe can also give 'the gift' to her sexual partners. It turns out that her ample breasts ooze out a liquid when she's sexually excited, which, when drunk by a person in the right amounts, gives 'the gift' to that person. This allows Chloe, like us, to give 'the gift' to both sexes. We three are, of course, all bisexual. Indeed, that's one other side-effect of 'the gift', we learned - it turns that person bisexual, no matter what sexual orientation he or she leaned to prior to receiving 'it'. Slowly, 'the gift' started to become more widespread. People receiving 'the gift' - which we started calling 'gifters' - of course, fucked other people, due to their heightened sexual desires, spreading 'the gift' like wildfire. Many people, males and females, started becoming hugely muscular humans literally overnight. The professional bodybuilders training night and day in the gym simply couldn't compete anymore. This prompted the IFBB to dissolve bodybuilding as a sport for good. Moreover, the ideal female body perceived by the world at large slowly started shifting to the one that Chloe, and all female 'gifters', possessed. And James? We did decide to meet James, to ask him to study the process of how 'the gift' works. While doing so, James became totally obsessed with Chloe's incredible beauty, and - long story short - he received 'the gift' himself from her. One aspect of 'the gift' that was puzzling James was pregnancy - or lack of. The amount of semen produced by male 'gifters' was about 10 times as much as normal males did, and female 'gifters' had the perfect, ideal vaginal shape to accommodate these males. Moreover, the sperm count of male 'gifters' was astonishingly high, at around 800 to 1000 million sperms per millilitre, with close to 100% rapid progressive sperm motility. Female 'gifters', on the other hand, ovulated more frequently than non-'gifters', and did not have periods. In spite of all this, it seemed like male 'gifters' were incapable of impregnating female 'gifters' at all. After studying this anomaly for long, James finally managed to crack this mystery too. Incredibly, male 'gifters' couldn't impregnate female 'gifters' alone; there needed to be the semen of TWO different male 'gifters' in the vagina of a female 'gifter' for pregnancy to happen. This was confirmed to be true when me and Kris impregnated Chloe the same night that James made this discovery. Our family is expecting our first child; the first child in the entire world that will have two Dads and one Mum. Will we tell the story of our child, and of our future children, in the future? Who knows... time will tell. THE END
  2. geek2jock

    My Superhero Boyfriend (Ch. 8)

    Chapter 8 "And that pretty much sums up our week," Ethan concludes with a smiling glance towards Joshua as they both lounge casually on the therapist's couch. The familiarity of these counseling sessions together has allowed the couple to really open up about their issues more so than when they were attending separate sessions and could wind up blaming each other for the issues. "That is good to hear," the therapist nods with a faint smile. "It seems like you've managed to overcome some pretty significant obstacles using the techniques we're discussed here." "I think they've really worked for us," Joshua adds with a smile and nod. "Now let's talk a little bit about your part in this," the therapist turns his attention primarily to Joshua. "How could you have better handled the situation of the past week?" "Are you kidding?" Joshua is shocked by the assertion. "I watched my boyfriend as he was groped and hit on by a club full of drunken fans and when he told me that he was sleeping around WHILE WE WERE LIVING TOGETHER not only did I forgive him I didn't even say he had to stop doing it... I'm friggin' boyfriend of the century here!" "I'm referring to earlier than that," the therapist indicates with an illustrative scrolling motion of his pen in thin air. "At the time you were in the first bar which is where I believe the problem surfaced. We've discussed this before - your passive-aggressive approach to conflict." "I don't follow," Joshua shakes his head. "This is a prime example of your dynamic together as a couple," the therapist elaborates. "First there's a relatively minor disagreement. You Joshua don't say speak up because in your mind you're just letting it pass or choosing not to pick a fight that's not worth fighting by not saying anything at all. This in turn provokes Ethan, whose emotional dependency craves feedback even if its negative, to escalate things and become emotionally manipulative in order to provoke any kind of response that will satisfy his emotional void. Now with a big issue that is worth fighting, when your response is an aggressive emotional outburst, both of your programmed reactions are reinforced by those of the other one and a sort of feedback loop of accusations and reprisals will ensure... and neither of you come off as the bigger man in that situation... it's really more a race to the bottom maturity-wise. Does that sound like a pretty accurate summation of how that evening played out?" "Damn!" Ethan proclaims, hearing it summed up so obviously in retrospect makes him realize it's true. "Exactly," Joshua nods in agreement. "We've addressed Ethan's part in this type of melodrama before," the therapist continues, "but I think you will agree that most of the past week may have been avoided if you Joshua had just spoken up at that first incident and gently rebuked Ethan's undesired behavior. When the problem is small, it only takes a small voice to end it before it becomes a big problem requiring a bigger voice. Ethan, how do you think you would have reacted if Joshua had simply said, 'No reason to get jealous, I'm just talking to a friend'?" "I think I would have chilled out," Ethan nods with a gentle pat on Joshua's knee. "I think that's what I did," Joshua defends. "I mean, I'm not trying to shift all the blame here to Ethan but I didn't just shut down and pretend nothing was wrong." "I remember him saying he was going to go take requests for the sloppy drunk at the end of the bar," Ethan adds his account of the event in question. "That's not what I said at all!" Joshua shoots back, raising his voice a little. "This right here," the therapist interrupts, "is where you both have to decide to shut it down before it flares up." "We DO do that," Joshua recognizes the pattern of behavior in their relationship's approach to conflict resolution. "Now that you can see it," the therapist concludes, "you can commit to fix it." He smiles and rises to signal the end of the session. "I want to thank you both for your time and commitment during these sessions but unfortunately I'm going to be unable to continue seeing you." "Why?!" Ethan is surprised by this sudden unexplained announcement. "All I can say is that there are other factors at work which preclude me from continuing your treatment," the therapist explains as he walks the couple to the door, "and I'd be happy to refer you to another therapist where you can continue making great progress." The therapist reaches up and places a firm hand on Ethan's shoulder, fixing his eyes with a firm stare. Ethan is immediately struck with the realization that he's seen these eyes elsewhere but he puts that thought out of his mind for the moment. "Let me suggest that you seek out someone on your own and not be referred by the corps to someone of their choosing." The therapist gives the most subtly slow nod of the head to assure Ethan is reading the insinuation in his tone of what he is not saying but what he is meaning to convey. Ethan nods his understanding. "What was that all about?" Joshua asks after the door closes and they are left standing in the therapist's waiting area. "I don't know," Ethan ponders distantly, "but I think there is someone who desperately wants us broken up." He digs his phone out of his pocket and begins thumbing through his messages for clues. "Who would want to do that?" Joshua asks. "I have my suspicions," Ethan murmurs and then turns his head as a news report on the waiting room television catches his attention. "Police have identified the body of the young woman as that of the ambassador's missing daughter, who was last seen a week ago in Amsterdam," the newscaster reports. "Her body was discovered in one of the canals in that city and medical examiner reports show that the body remained submerged for several days, making her time of death difficult to determine but probably shortly after she went missing. Police have no leads at this time and have not indicated if there is any evidence of foul play. More on this story as it develops." "She looks familiar," Joshua stares at the stock photo of the victim being displayed which was taken before her demise. "She was at the rave," Ethan replies softly, a pit of anguish forming in his stomach. "Was she..." Joshua points his hand downward towards his crotch. "Mm-hmm," Ethan nods, confirming Joshua's intonation that the dead girl in the newscast was the one Ethan had to reprimand for getting too familiar with his junk. "You can't think that you had anything to do with that?" Joshua hisses as he physically pulls Ethan out of the waiting area into the empty corridor to prevent anyone in the waiting area from indiscreetly eavesdropping. "I think someone wants me to think that I did," Ethan inhales sharply to puff out his chest as he draws himself up taller in an iconic superhero pose while in his mind he continues trying to put the pieces together and come up with a likely suspect. "And I think it's time to get to the bottom of this." Ethan stands heroically for a moment with Joshua looking on in bemusement and no one else around to appreciate Ethan's bravado. Ethan drops the bluster and his shoulders as he leans downward to kiss Joshua. "I need to go... see you at home?" "Don't be too late," Joshua smiles and they part to go about their separate agendas. Ethan jets off across the country and a few moments after leaving Joshua he arrives and lands in front of a Planet Bigness gym. The global chain is known for its brightly colored Blue and Orange paint scheme, its Wuss Alarm which sounds if a member isn't giving 110%, and for catering almost exclusively to superheroes and hero trainees. Occasionally a few professional athletes also come by if they want to rub elbows with the superheroes or feel like getting their asses handed to them in comically one-sided shows of strength. While Ethan doesn't make a habit of attending a gym thanks to his preternaturally superhuman strength, many of his superhero friends are regular members so he is confident he will find who he is looking for here. Ethan strides in with a look of supreme confidence and authority. Another benefit of being globally famous is that people stop asking for identification so as he breezes past the front desk the clerks all know exactly who he is and are likewise concerned that the determination displayed on his face is not in preparation for a grueling workout session. In fact, as he marches through the gym almost everyone stops what they are doing and stares in consternation of the determination on Ethan's face and the potential chaos that could result from it. There are even a few individuals there who easily dwarf Ethan in size and stature but are not foolhardy enough to presume that their physical size equates to sheer power on par with Ethan's. A few quickly depart or run to the locker room. Itchy is among those in the gym and in spite of being physically unremarkable by comparison he shows the most testicular fortitude of them all by stepping forward and literally blocking Ethan's path in an effort to slow his march towards certain decimation. "Ethan," Itchy puts his hand up against Ethan's chest and Ethan stops to look down at his friend, "think about what you're doing." "I'm just here for a little chat," Ethan growls but also grins and winks, ensuring only Itchy can perceive his brief break in character. Itchy comprehends that Ethan's tour de force is for show and steps aside. Ethan resumes stomping across the floor to a solitary figure who seems oblivious to what is presently going on throughout the rest of the gym. He is bent over at the knees and waist, facing the floor, with free weights in both hands doing slow, methodical dumbbell rows to hit his back muscles. He has earbuds in and a raucous gym mix blaring to keep his focus on the workout. Ethan stops and reaches down, placing his large hand against the back of the man's neck. He immediately tries to stand up, feeling as if someone just dropped a 45-pound plate on his shoulders, but his attempt is impeded by Ethan's overpowering grip. He drops the free weights in his hands and Ethan closes his hand, enveloping the back of the man's neck from his traps to the base of his skull and pulls him up from his bent over position to standing upright. Now looking forward at a mirror, the expression on the man's face is one of disbelief and horror as he sees the towering frame of Ethan as the dominating force that's trapped him in his clutches. "Lance," Ethan replies coldly and evenly, "we need to talk." The man's appearance begins to morph from that of this current visage to the familiar face of Ethan's best friend Lance. He reaches up and pulls his earbuds out but he can do no more than that without Ethan's consent, including even being able to turn around to face his friend so they converse to each other's reflection in the mirrored wall before them. "I don't know what you think is going on," Lance begins but immediately gasps as Ethan's hand closes tighter around his neck and then he feels his feet slowly rising off the floor as Ethan effortlessly thrusts him into midair. Ethan rotates his wrist and pivots Lance's entire body around like a marionette doll so that he can fix his stare on Lance's eyes directly. "I think you're trying to drive a wedge between me and Joshua," Ethan replies evenly, determined to keep his wrath in check. "What I can't figure out is why." "I swear I'm not doing anything like that," Lance replies with a pleading tone in his voice. Undoubtedly Ethan's vise-like grip is exerting immense stress on Lance's spine but Ethan is being careful not to snap Lance's neck with his bare hand... yet. "Don't bullshit me!" Ethan roars, and Lance inadvertently pisses himself in terror at hearing Ethan's 'power voice'. "You texted me to come to Amsterdam knowing I would slip back into being the old Ethan, the playboy Ethan that Joshua would hate, and then you drugged me and dropped me in bed with a couple of male prostitutes." "I swear the motel thing wasn't me!!" Lance pleads. "I checked my messages," Ethan roars as he shakes Lance a little for emphasis, causing Ethan's neck to pop several times as he dangles helpless from Ethan's untiring grasp. "I supposedly sent a text to Nick but there's no text to any woman." "A woman?" Lance reels at this new information and then his eyes get wide as he reaches a profound conclusion. "I think I might have the piece of information you're missing." Lance hastily offers, hoping it will spare him from Ethan's wrath. "What is it?" Ethan demands. "Its... it..." Lance struggles and attempts to move his arm but Ethan's grip is disrupting his motor skills and he's essentially paralyzed in his suspended torture. "I can't reach for my phone but I think there's something you should see." Ethan looks down towards Lance's gym shorts and with his free hand begins patting down Lance's groin to locate where his phone is located. "Hey! Buy a fellow a drink first!" Lance squeaks out as he feels Ethan's paws all over his shorts. Ethan is in no mood for levity and growls at Lance's attempt to soften his temperament. He thumbs across the screen to scroll through Lance's pictures until he begins seeing pictures of an all-too-familiar scene of himself with Nick and Tony doing unspeakable things to him as he lay unconscious. Ethan's rage peaks as he concludes Lance DID concoct the scenario and Ethan's growl grows into a roar. "No, NOOOO!" Lance screams as Ethan's grip clamps down, cracking his neck in several places and severing his spinal cord. After a moment of rigidity, Lance's body falls limp in Ethan's grasp. Ethan stands there for a moment as his rage subsides and suddenly he realizes what he's done and rage is replaced with a profound sense of loss. Ethan drops to his knees and begins wailing as he gently brings Lance's body closer and embraces him instead of menacing him. The entire gym is looking on in pity at Ethan mourns the loss of his best friend by his own hand. Itchy walks up and stoops next to Ethan, placing an empathetic hand on Ethan's forearm. He also places another hand on Lance's broken neck. They kneel there motionless for a moment and Ethan's turmoil subsides as he feels a strange sensation in his arm where Itchy is touching him. The sensation grows in intensity for several moments before subsiding. In another few seconds, Lance's eyes flutter and he re-awakens as if he'd only been asleep for a brief nap. "What just happened?" Ethan asks as Itchy slowly lets go of both men and stands up next to them. "You just gave some of your life for Lance's," Itchy explains. "What do you mean," Ethan is confused by Itchy's explanation. "It's similar to a transfusion," Itchy explains, "where some of you ends up saving his life. In this case, you're invincibility is what healed his injured neck whereas his injury is not even significant to your body." "How is that 'my life' though," Ethan is still a little unclear what Itchy's healing ability required of him. "Well I needed to give him back some years of life to replace those you took from him," Itchy explains further, "and since you're supposedly going to live for a couple thousand years anyways, what's twenty years or so to save the life of your friend?" Ethan smiles at Itchy and then embraces Lance tightly, grateful he was returned from the dead. "Dude!" Lance speaks up, "will you quit flirting with me?!" "You asshole!" Ethan laughs at Lance's wit, which apparently even death cannot stifle. "So wait, did I get anything from him?" "And I only have twenty years left to live?" Lance is suddenly very concerned. "Very likely," Itchy smirks as he starts to walk away, "but I was focused on saving his life so I wasn't really paying attention to what powers he may have transferred back to you in the process... and not necessarily," Itchy smiles at Lance with that last part, "but truly none of us knows how long we have so don't let that affect how you plan to live your life." "Man, I'm sorry," Ethan begins to apologize as he lets Lance slide out of his arms. "You should be," Lance grins, "it may not be broken anymore but my neck is still stiff! Seriously though, what I was trying to tell you is that a couple of days ago these pictures all showed up on my phone but I didn't take them." "Then who did?" Ethan asks as he returns to looking at the pictures again, this time scouring them for any small detail which might be a clue. "I think..." Lance hesitates, "it was Svetlana." "Your girlfriend?!" Ethan gasps. "But why?" "I don't know," Lance shrugs and winces with the motion, "but I do know that she and I have a shared mobile phone plan and part of that is it syncs all our pictures in the cloud so she may not have realized that all these pictures would end up coming to me too." "What is her goal here?" Ethan tries to figure out the mystery. "Who is she working with? Or for?" "She reports directly to the Colonel," Lance replies, offering as much as he can regarding Ethan's situation. "Beyond that, I don't know. Maybe she's gone rogue or aligned herself with some other faction but apparently she's been playing us both for chumps." "How so?" Ethan asks as he stands and gently helps Lance to his feet. "I genuinely came by that morning to help you," Lance explains, "but now in light of this it's pretty obvious that she had another agenda and just used me to get to you... and do you know what 'loverboy's kryptonite' is?" "I have no idea," Ethan shrugs. "Well I think she was trying to be vague," Lance suggests, "but I think she was referring to you as lover boy and that means whatever it was she gave you is your kryptonite - something that you are susceptible to." "I don't know of anything I'm susceptible to," Ethan ponders. "Apparently she does," Lance concludes. They both ponder for a moments and look at each other as they should in unison, "THE COFFEE!" "Of course!" Lance waves one hand in the air dramatically. "SHE went and got the coffee, she left me at the Grand Canyon and she contacted your boy toy in order to frame you." "So she must have sent the pictures to Joshua," Ethan deduces. "I wonder why he hasn't mentioned it?" "Are you sure he received them?" Lance asks. "I'm going to find out," Ethan turns and begins to leave, but turns and gives Lance another big hug of gratitude. Lance pats his big friend on his big back in support. "Okay!" Lance finally fidgets to escape Ethan's grasp. "Stop being such a girl!" "I'm sorry I ever suspected you," Ethan chuckles. "Never mind," Lance smiles, "go save your man!" Ethan sprints through the gym and rockets off the parking lot with a sonic boom that drowns out the cheers and applause of the other gym-going onlookers. A minute later and across the country, Ethan alights atop his portico landing pad and breezes through the double doors, making his way through the gutted-for-remodeling upstairs and down the staircase to the main level where he finds Joshua curled up in a wicker chair in the sunroom. Ethan can immediately see that Joshua is holding a tablet and may be scrolling through his email when he looks up as soon as he hears Ethan approach. "Anything interesting?" Ethan tries to broach the subject lightheartedly. "Very," Joshua taps on the screen and holds up the tablet for Ethan to view one of the images recently emailed to him. Ethan is unsure what Joshua's reaction to this latest revelation so he doesn't reply for a time, waiting for Joshua to break the silence. "How come we never do that?" "What?" Ethan half-chuckles. "This is obviously you completely out cold but this guy riding your dick still seems to be enjoying himself anyways," Joshua cracks a smile to let Ethan off the hook. "So you want to assault me in my sleep?" Ethan chuckles now that he's sensing Joshua's mood is one of levity. He takes a seat in the other wicker chair. "Honestly I think that's the only way I could take you," Joshua laughs. "I've been doing my homework about being in a physical relationship with a super-being... well, as much material as there is on the subject and most of its contained in a single article by Larry Niven about the difficulties of Lois Lane having Superman's child... but part of it still applies to us." Joshua gets serious. "Look, I know this is either someone's revenge plot against you or is meant to drive us apart but it's not going to work." "For starters," Ethan responds, "I've already told you about this incident." "Yes," Joshua nods, "and it's also so obviously staged. Must be the work of an amateur." "Perhaps," Ethan nods, not letting on that he knows the identity of the perpetrator. "And I know," Joshua leans in and puts a hand on Ethan's knee, "that we've already discussed these types of things are bound to happen - them trying to get to you through me. So as long as we continue to be honest and open with each other, we're not going to let them come between us." Ethan leans in to meet Joshua halfway between them and kisses him passionately, encouraged by Joshua's renewed commitment to their relationship. Ethan gently tugs the tablet from Joshua's hand to set it aside on the chair and takes each of Joshua's hands in his own, standing up and pulling Joshua to his feet along with him. They continue to kiss for several minutes and Joshua can feel Ethan's prodigious package swelling against the crotch of his pants. Meanwhile, Ethan's oral expertise is quickly overwhelming Joshua's senses as Ethan's more powerful tongue flits and probes every corner of Joshua's mouth. Joshua makes a few inroads with his own tongue to 'ward off' Ethan's intruding proboscis but Ethan can easily force Joshua's tongue back or pin it to the bottom of his mouth in a dance of tonsillic domination. At the same time as Ethan is dominating in their little scrimmage of tonsil hockey, Joshua wriggles his hands from Ethan's grasp. Ethan relocates his hands, one cupping the back of Joshua's head and the other in the small of Joshua's middle back as if taking position for a ballroom dance. Joshua slips his hands down between them and wrestles with Ethan's pants to release his emerging python from its confinement. Ethan instinctively bucks his hips away a little bit to allow Joshua's hands space to work and within seconds Ethan's entire body begins to quiver with anticipation as Joshua's hands begin caressing his throbbing cock through the thin fabric of his briefs. Ethan may have the strength advantage but Joshua has learned Ethan's weaknesses in order to 'tame the beast' so to speak. Joshua eventually bends his knees a little, dropping down from Ethan's grasp and pulling his face away from Ethan's as Ethan is left glancing down at Joshua's retreating face. Joshua sinks to his knees before Ethan and pulls back Ethan's open pants, practically peeling them from his skin as they cling to Ethan's taut, sinewy quads. Joshua keeps his upward gaze fixed on Ethan's eyes while his mouth begins tracing the outline of Ethan's prodigious member through its cloth confinement. Joshua grins a little as he sees Ethan's eyes close, being overwhelmed by the intense arousal of Joshua's mouth and the feel of his breath on his belly as Joshua thoroughly sucks the fabric wet with his saliva until its practically transparent. Ethan slows leans his torso and shoulders forward, putting both hands in front of him to brace against the large glass door frame for support as Joshua's mouth rubs up and down, up and down along the quickly upswinging shaft until it is straining uncomfortably against the waistband. Joshua gently rolls back the elastic band and Ethan's half-protruding glans emerges with a bounding spring from its confinement. Ethan is struggling not only with the extremely arousing stimulation of Joshua's foreplay expertise but also with the situational awareness that if his loses control of himself he could easily damage Joshua's house so he's fighting with himself to try to keep his responses in check. Joshua can sense Ethan holding himself back and distances himself for a moment to let Ethan's autonomic responses subside a little. Ethan slows his breathing a little and opens his eyes to glance down at Joshua still stooped at his crotch. "What's wrong?" Ethan asks, wondering why Joshua stopped. "You look like you're already about to blow," Joshua smiles, "but you're holding back." "I kinda am," Ethan admits, "but I also think we can take this somewhere else." "The bedroom?" Joshua asks. "Better," Ethan grins and reaches down to guide Joshua back to his feet. Ethan pushes open the glass door and retakes Joshua in his strong arms, embracing him tightly as he steps outdoors and gently lifts off, carrying them both into the sky. Joshua looks down to watch his house falling away at his feet, then his neighborhood, then the city, and finally the entire coastal region all the way to the Atlantic. He glances up at Ethan with a mild look of concern and Ethan smiles back at him. "Don't worry," Ethan reassures, "you'll be fine as long as you're close to me." "It's not falling that I'm worried about," Joshua replies, looking above as the atmosphere thins and the sky grows more brilliant as a result. "Won't I run out of oxygen or freeze or something if we go too far?" "Not so long as you stay close," Ethan smiles and leans in to resumes kissing Joshua passionately. Fully confident in Ethan, Joshua enjoys the exhilaration of making love in the upper atmosphere. Other people can brag about the exotic locales around the globe where their loves have taken them but Joshua knows the membership of the 'sky high club' is exceedingly limited indeed. As they reach the edge of space, Joshua begins to get a sense of what life must be like for Ethan, unconfined by the restriction of gravity. The couple holds each other at arms' length and begin unbuttoning each other's shirts, then taking turns removing them from each other's bodies and letting go where the garments simply float nearby without dropping back towards the ground. Ethan's pants were already around his quads so Joshua uses the freedom of weightlessness to pivot himself upside-down in relationship to Ethan and work the pants the rest of the way off of Ethan's dense, trunk-like legs while Ethan takes advantage of the unique position to also unbutton Joshua's pants and with a single deft jerk they slide off Joshua's body and are flung off into space in some random direction. Now both in their underwear, Ethan cups his hands on Joshua's hips and positions him so that Joshua's crotch is within face reach which puts Joshua's face approximately at Ethan's crotch in a zero-gravity 69 position. In seconds both men are hungrily tearing at the other's underwear with their teeth and then devouring each other's erection. Joshua takes as much of Ethan as he can manage without gagging, and then gags a little anyways as he bobs his mouth up and down on Ethan's thick, veiny meat. Ethan can easily take all of Joshua in his mouth and proceeds to get him as hard as possible by closing his lips firmly around the base of Joshua's rod and applying a mild (for Ethan) amount of suction which makes Joshua swell to proportions he has never achieved before on his own. Joshua groans in exquisite agony as the intensity of Ethan's penis pumping method is straining the suspensory ligament in his groin, already pulled taut by Joshua's own erection but slowly being stretched by Ethan's extremely acute method of sucking. Joshua is unsure if there is any risk of permanent injury but at this point he is too sexually aroused to care. Back on earth, the twittersphere is blowing up about the erotic guy-on-guy sky peepshow captured by several alert young sky gazers and there's suddenly a surge in purchases and online interest in telescopes as people begin clamoring to get a peek for themselves. #StarSucking begins trending around the world and people on other continents who are not yet in view of the sexy space show are forewarned in order to get ready as soon as it comes into their field of view. Conspiracy theorists immediately begin to post conjecture aimed to discredit the possibility of sexual acts in space. Ethan sort of flips Joshua's body over and then pulls him back close, with Joshua's back against Ethan's chest. Joshua turns his head to look over his shoulder and Ethan leans across to continue kissing him, tasting his own precum on Joshua's lips. Meanwhile, Ethan's erection is so full that its pressing up against the bottom of Joshua's nuts as it searches for a place to unload. Ethan looks into Joshua's eyes and without speaking a word Joshua consents to Ethan attempting to enter him, a first in their relationship. Ethan licks his own hand, dousing it in saliva, and reaches down to gently rub it around Joshua's ass crack to prepare him for penetration. Pushing Joshua away a little, Ethan maneuvers Joshua's body into the optimal position and slowly presses him downward until Joshua's cheeks are being pushed apart by Ethan's fat cock head. Joshua closes his eyes and remains calm but prepares for what he expects to be an incredibly painful experience. #OMFGBigSpaceDick and #StarFucking are trending across the internet to let people know how the zero-G tryst is progressing and pretty soon half the world's population are enamored to know every detail about these sexual space pioneers although very few have a high enough resolution telescope to make out any identifying features of the orbiting space-lovemaking couple so their identities remain a mystery. As Ethan slowly presses Joshua down onto his thick cock, Joshua brings his knees up towards his chest and clutches the backs of his own thighs in order to spread himself as wide as possible to receive Ethan. Joshua moans with sensual satisfaction, surprised that he's not in more discomforting pain or being literally split into two pieces by Ethan's superhuman penetration. Ethan proceeds slowly, gently, and pausing with each inch he inserts inside of Joshua to give him time to adjust to the increasing fullness of having Ethan inside of him to that depth before continuing to plunge any inch deeper. #HesDoneThisBefore compliments Ethan's technique in allowing his bottoming partner to adapt as he gradually enters them. Reddit and blogs begin overflowing with posts, mostly from cocky young guys bragging about how their own sexual exploits are just like this and then countered with challenges to post pics and prove they're as big as they claim to be. Ethan begins increasing the rhythm of his thrusts and it's indistinguishable whether Ethan is thrusting his pelvis into Joshua or simply bobbing Joshua's body up and down on his staff. In either case, Joshua is overcome with the deep throbbing sensation of Ethan's hot, heavy hard-on probing his guts so deeply. The stroking action on his prostate overwhelms him and Joshua shoots his first ample load in a wide arch out into space with a guttural groan of satisfaction. Ethan slows for a moment and looks over Joshua's shoulder where both of them watch Joshua's creamy white spunk float in midair in several globules until it drifts a little ways away and quickly freezes into glistening crystals of space cum. Joshua looks over his shoulder at Ethan with a grin of amusement and Ethan smiles back with pleasure knowing that Joshua is enjoying the experience as much as he is. Ethan resumes pounding Joshua's ass as hard as he risks without actually injuring Joshua. Alternating between techniques ranging from long, sensitive strokes and aggressive rapid ass-pounding thrusts, Ethan is able to coax three more loads from Joshua although by the fourth load Joshua's reserves are getting low and it doesn't make a dynamic a shot but is deeply satisfying nonetheless. Ethan is also on the verge and has been wanting to shoot a load very badly but knows of Joshua's concern whether, like every other aspect of Ethan's physiology, his ejaculation will be superhuman on its power and volume. Ethan wraps both arms around Joshua tightly and pulls him as close as he can with Joshua's back to his chest in case Joshua is right and these are their final moments together before Ethan pulverizes Joshua's insides with hypersonic cumshots. Joshua closes his eyes as Ethan groans and pumps an ample amount of cum into his ass to the point that Joshua feels like his stomach is full as if he's just gorged himself on an enormous meal. After almost a minute of cumming, Ethan's flow subsides and the thick cream lubricates his pole as he slowly pulls himself out of Joshua's bowels, leaving Joshua with an intense feeling of emptiness after having all of Ethan's enormity inside of him. A cloud of intermingling cum floats all around them as Ethan and Joshua's loads swirl together and randomly meld or split apart as they gradually drift away from the couple in all directions and finally crystallize in the coldness of space. As they themselves casually descend back into the atmosphere and swoop across the skies towards their house, Joshua begins to realize that they're both still naked because they've left their clothes up in orbit. "Don't worry," Ethan assures him, "I'll go back for them after I drop you back at home." "So were you really not sure if I'd survive your ejaculation?" Joshua asks. "Were you really willing to turn me into human swiss cheese just to get off?" "Give me a little credit," Ethan chuckles. "I would never hurt you for one thing, and for another, you know I've banged other people and they all survived so I knew it wasn't going to be like a shotgun blast up your ass!" "Oh yeah, duh!" Joshua shakes his own head with the obvious realization. "Niven simply didn't know what he was talking about," Ethan chuckles as they alight on the portico landing pad. Joshua hurries in but Ethan is less self-conscious and casually strolls into the house.
  3. Jaypat

    Harvard Man (Part 2)

    Luke didn’t fall asleep until 5 in the morning. He slept for two hours, woke at 7, and felt perfectly rested. Of course, it was Saturday and he didn’t really need to get up, but he did anyway. But as he was getting showered and dressed, he had two realizations. First, his clothes barely fit him. All his jeans were uncomfortably tight and noticeably too short; the cuffs were above his ankles, half way to his calves. His shirt sleeves were short, too. But they could be rolled up to hide it. What could he do about his pants? He didn’t know, maybe new ones? Second, he hadn’t gotten any more muscular overnight. He felt a confusing mix of emotions over this. He was relieved, thinking maybe the whole thing might be over, but also disappointed at the same time, as part of him had been enjoying the increases in muscularity. But no, he couldn’t let himself feel that way. This was some kind of a condition and he had to resolve it. Of course, why he hadn’t grown was just as much of a mystery as why he had. “There’s no mystery,” he heard a voice inside him say. “You didn’t grow yesterday because you didn’t work out.” Of course, it was obvious. Exercise was somehow exacerbating the situation. “Okay, Luke,” he murmured. He had a bad habit of talking to himself. “No more exercise for a while. Take it slow.” What?! Even as he said it, he found something deep inside him bucking against the idea. Unbidden, the memory of the security guard warning him not to go out alone at night came to mind. He was suddenly angry. Not at the guard because he had been right. Luke couldn’t have defended himself. Luke was angry at himself. He should be able to defend himself! He’d been able to get that scholarship, earn his way to Harvard; why shouldn’t he be able to take a freakin’ walk at midnight? The answer was he should be able to. He was going to exercise, was going to get bigger, and was going to get stronger. He enjoyed the way it felt. Why shouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he be able to protect himself? Muscles were ok in moderation. In fact they were a good idea. By the time he was done wracking the question in his head, he’d resolved to return to the gym. He’d just try and make sure he didn’t exert himself too much, so that he didn’t run the risk of developing too much. There wasn’t even really any assurance that whatever was happening with his body would continue. He smiled, having reassured himself, packed an old book bag with gym clothes, and left. Luke’s first stop was the dining hall where he scoffed a record setting breakfast. Since he was eating so much, he wondered if he shouldn’t be doubling up on the vitamins, too. But no, he figured that probably wasn’t necessary. Luke arrived at the gym and walked past the desk again, idly checking to see if The Douche was there. He wasn’t. That was reassuring. He flashed his ID and went through to the changing room, switching from his undersized clothes to his gym shorts and tank top. He stretched with a little pride and walked out onto the gym floor. There were plenty of people here, but they were all too busy training to notice him, which suited Luke just fine. There were dozens of machines that he frankly had no idea how to use; luckily, there was a large rack of dumb-bells available at the far end of the gym. He walked over and grabbed a pair of 25-pound weights. He figured lifting the 50-pounders again would be suicidal, and would probably just trigger another drastic transformation. 25 seemed to be a good middle ground. The weights did feel a little light in his hands, though. He tried a few bicep curls and found them almost embarrassingly easy. He set the weights back and grabbed a pair of 30s. They felt a little more solid, at least. He swung the dumbbells up in each arm, one after the other, his new muscles easily dominating the weights. After eight or nine repetitions, he started to feel the weight in his hands, the burn in his muscles. Oh yeah, this was what it was all about. He gritted his teeth and pulled the weight up slowly, watching his biceps peak at the top of the movement. The sight was waking something in him, a feeling he didn’t completely understand. He loved that pumped up bicep, fucking loved it! He let the weights fall back to his side with a shuddering gasp and looked at himself in the mirror. He liked what he saw. His arms, pressed against his side, looked bigger than ever. Yeah. A thin sheen of sweat had his hard body glistening, the smooth grid of his abs sharply visible beneath the fabric of his shirt. The image was mesmerizing, and it also drove him to move on! He went through another set of reps. As much as he loved watching his bicep bulge, he moved through the other exercises as well. He exercised his chest until he lost the pump and his back until it swelled hard with blood. He hadn’t meant to push himself so hard, but fuck, he couldn’t stop. He shifted to some weighted squats, surprising himself with how much he could lift. A leg press machine was free, so he hopped on that, pounding out a few repetitions with fervor. He didn’t even notice the numbers he was setting the weights to. He was past that; he just wanted whatever burned. By the time he was done, he was sweating buckets. His muscles were swollen from all the blood rushing to them. He checked himself out in a mirror and saw that his musculature was larger and more pronounced than before. The faintest outline of veins were even visible on his biceps. Feeling a kind of primal, visceral pride, he grinned and stumbled back to the changing rooms. When he checked his phone, he saw that it was nearly 1 PM. I got here at 9:30! Luke thought, feeling slightly uneasy. He hadn’t been able to keep track of the time. He’d gone from one exercise to the next, slowly trying out the complicated-looking machines until, by the end of his session, he’d been on nearly everything in the building. He realized a couple guys—both about as thin-but-chubby as Luke had been just two days ago—were staring at his arms. Luke grinned and flexed his bicep. His arm swelled eagerly. “Check out the guns,” he said, sounding more than a little cocky. He immediately felt mortified. Without another word, he pulled on his too small t-shirt and pants, then left the changing room as quickly as he could. What’s getting into me? That’s not the kind of thing I’d say! I’m an intellectual for crying out loud! He headed back to the dining hall, his stomach screaming for food, his thoughts flashing through his head like beams of light. While he’d been at the gym, time had seemed to go away. Why had he enjoyed that so much? What was it that had prompted him to show off like that? He just wished he knew more of what was going on with his body, and his mind. He ate another record setting meal and then walked back to the dorm, his longer strides moving him much quicker than before. He didn’t feel lethargic or tired, but rather impossibly energetic. It was like an electrical current was running beneath his skin. But somehow, as soon as he laid down on his bed, he dropped right off to sleep. As Luke slept, he felt the real world intruding on his dreams, pressing through the thin membrane between the waking and sleeping worlds. He felt pressure, all over his body, as though he were constantly moving outside of himself. He felt his arms bulging, his stomach tightening, his legs burning and throbbing. Through the sleepy haze of the dream he felt faint stabs of pain as his muscles rebuilt themselves. It hurt, but it felt good, too … and his dreams were only about himself, a genius, succeeding at Harvard, with a body fit for an Olympian…. Luke woke up groggily and slapped a hand to his face to try to wake himself up, and flinched at the pain. “Ow.” He felt strange. As the pall of sleep slipped away from him, he felt refreshed, though he was starving. A feeling of dread—tempered by anxious excitement—settled into the bottom of his stomach. He pushed himself to his feet and looked in his mirror again. “Whoa...” He was big. His biceps, once just a distinctive curve unless he was really flexing them, now protruded off of his arm, thick and heavy, even as they hung loosely at his sides. His triceps bulged up behind his arms, giving them substantial size. The vein that had been present at his workout had settled into permanent residence, snaking down his now beefy bicep and towards his wider forearms. His shoulders had grown as well, their curved shape defined and unmistakable, now. His back was definitely broader, pushing his arms off from his sides as they rested against the broad, thick muscles there. His abdominals were now unmistakably defined, and his thighs had a slight teardrop shape even when he was standing perfectly relaxed. And damn, he was pretty sure he’d gotten taller again, too. It looked like another couple of inches. He took shallow breaths, trying to calm himself. “Okay, it definitely didn’t stop,” Luke whispered under his breath, half-elated, half-terrified. He was torn between punching the air and running to hide under his bed. He darted into the shower and stripped down. When he saw himself naked, the effect was magnified. His back tapered down in a v-like shape down to his thin waist that blossomed out into his larger thighs. Biting his lip, he raised an arm and flexed the bicep, gasping in elated shock. The muscle curled into a hard ball nearly half again as large as it had been before and featured a prominent peak. He began rotating his wrist repeatedly from the front to the back, from the front to the back, causing his biceps to leap and dance, the vein on his peak twisting as his muscles bulged. Fuck. He felt himself getting stiff, and marveled to see that his member was now longer and thicker than before. He slipped into the shower without another word. He turned on the water and took care of himself with one hand as he meticulously washed every hard bulge and etched crevice with the other. When he was done he dried off hastily, and pulled his clothes back on. He realized with some anxiety that you could see his sculpted shoulders, chest, back and arms bulging through the fabric. “I definitely need some new clothes,” he said to his reflection. “Although...,” he said and flexed, watching and feeling his big, hard muscles, swell up into stark definition and stretch out the cloth, “…this has its appeal, too.” “Discretion, discretion,” he thought to himself. “This is going to have consequences, definite consequences.” He just didn’t know what kind or how severe. And until he had some idea, it was better to keep the changes on the down low. He pulled on his gym shorts (there was no way his longer, meatier legs would fit into those skinny jeans now). Even his shoes barely fit. So limping, he discretely made his way to the clothing shops of Harvard Square. As he walked, he was running things in his head, trying to think of something that could explain what was happening to him. Increased metabolism? That would make sense. It doesn’t seem to be hormonal. No abnormal emotional state, just heightened mental alertness. It was the best theory he had so far, but he had no idea what was causing it. Maybe a reaction from the vitamin pills? No, that was impossible; no compound when combined with vitamins would cause this sort of reaction. Maybe something in the water? Perhaps it was genetic. Maybe some sort of delayed onset of certain DNA markers, a switch in his genetic code that had failed to go off. He knew there were some people whose bodies produced an abnormal amount of muscle tissue—the same abnormality was intentionally bred into cows—but those people, as far as Luke knew, were always born with the condition. Perhaps his condition was simply unique, or extremely rare. If that were the case, he definitely wanted to keep this under wraps. He didn’t want to have to spend his first year at Harvard being some Ph.D. student’s pet project. As a student on a scholarship, he’d be particularly vulnerable to the whims of a faculty member. He’d always had to be aware of his own dependency on others. It galled him. He was still steaming when he walked into the clothing store. It was quiet. The salesperson was helping a student couple. Luke looked around. Suddenly, he realized he didn’t know what size he took in anything! He was going to need help. The student couple seemed to be making up their mind about something. The guy turned to the sales person and said, “We’re going to need a few minutes to decide. You should probably go help that jock over there before he flexes out of his shirt.” “I am not a jock!” Luke shot back. The vehemence surprised even him. “Ok, you’re not a jock, bro. Chill,” said the guy looking a little nervous. Suddenly, a realization struck Luke. He almost laughed. That guy was scared of him, scared of Luke, the nerd! Why? Because Luke the nerd was bigger and stronger than him. Luke the nerd had bigger, harder fucking arms, a larger chest, and broader fucking shoulders. It made him a little light headed. He felt and odd sort of thrill run though him, and he ran a hand over his hard bulging arm. He could probably beat the crap out of that guy! Wait, what? No! No, no, no, no, no! Luke was getting really carried away. He would never beat the crap out of anyone, even if he did call him a jock. So what if he did? What’s wrong with being a jock? What’s wrong with being muscular? Nothing. It was good. It felt good. There was nothing to get upset about here. “Can I help you?” asked the sales person, breaking Luke out of his reverie. Luke bought some new clothes, all on the large side. Not only did he want to de-emphasize the changes, but he also wanted them to last a while, and the way he was growing, he’d better get them down right baggy. He went back to his dorm, closed his door and walked into his room. His eyes immediately went to his roommate’s weight set, still sitting on the floor. No. I’ve already taken this way too far, Luke thought. It really isn’t wise to push this until I know exactly what’s going on. Instead he went to his computer to research metabolic anomalies, but he found his mind constantly drifting back to his body. He had to admit it was one hell of a distraction. He could feel it bulging under his clothing, his hard, powerfully built, buff body. Fuck. He took off the shirt and baggy pants and turned to look at his sculpted physique in the mirror. When he twisted his sides, he could see little oblique muscles popping out around his ribcage. He brought a hand up and touched them. They tickled. He licked his lips and rubbed a hand along his abs, watching the skin brush across his defined muscles. I do look good, though. He put his hands behind his head and clenched his stomach, his abs locking together like armor plating. His lats spread out with the motion, showing off the width of his back. He laughed. Just two days ago he didn’t even have lats! “I can’t hide this anymore,” Luke whispered. He was noticeably taller and starting to look like a bodybuilder. His muscles were almost completely depleted of body fat. It was like his body had burned through every bit of energy he’d provided for it. Probably something metabolic, then, Luke thought rapidly, even as he tried to think of what he could do now. He’d have to tell someone what was going on. Who could he trust? Will. Luke didn’t feel quite ready to show the rest of the world his body, though. Instead he just picked up his phone and called Will. “Hey, buddy,” he answered. “Long time, no hear. What’s up?” “Will, can you come up to my dorm room, please. It’s urgent.” “How about meeting you at the dining hall for Lunch,” said Will. “That won’t work,” said Luke. “You have to come up here. Please, it’s really important.” “Okay, I’m coming.” Luke unlocked his door, stepped back from it, and waited, shirtless. He heard the rapid clunking steps of Will ascending the stairs, and took a breath, trying not to think about how the sunlight pouring in through his dorm room window struck his large, defined muscles and illuminated them with highlights and shadows that emphasized their threatening size and veined hardness as he felt them shift heavily with his every movement. Fuck. He was getting stiff again. Will knocked on his door. “You decent?” “More than decent.” The words were out of Luke’s mouth before he could stop them. Will walked in the door and his jaw dropped in mute shock. Almost independently of the rest of his body, his arm reached for the doorknob and forced the door shut. “What the fuck? Luke, you’re jacked!”. “Um, pardon? Will, I, ah—” “Wait. Are you taking steroids?—” “What? No! I don’t know why this is happening. I don’t know why I’m getting bigger. I just keep exercising, and then I wake up with another ten pounds of muscle! Well, it was ten pounds when it started. Now I think it’s more like twenty! It’s insane!” Will stopped and nodded. “Really? How long as this been happening?” Luke’s heart leapt into his throat and he nearly cried with gratitude. He grabbed his friend in a bone-crushing hug. “Woah! Careful, big guy,” said Will. “What’s this all about?” “Sorry.” Luke relaxed his grip a little. “I just don’t know what to do. I was scared you wouldn’t believe me.” “Luke, I met you the first day, and you weren’t… like this.” Luke shrugged. “Damn! You’ve really got some guns on you.” “Yeah, but I don’t know how, or why, or what to do about them,” Luke said, intensely grateful to have someone to talk to about this. “My brain’s working about four times as fast as normal. I’m always hungry. I think my metabolism must be through the roof, and the only way to calm my thoughts is to work out. But whenever I work out, this happens!” He gestured down at his muscular frame helplessly. “You should go see the doctor, Luke. I know this is scary, but you’ve got to do what’s right. You don’t want to jeopardize your chances at Harvard, do you?” “No and I don’t want to become a Harvard case study either,” said Luke. “I take your point. Ok, we’ll figure this out, just the two of us, ok?” said Will. “If you can figure this out, you’re a heck of a lot smarter than I am,” said Luke. “I’ve read everything on the internet even resembling my case and there’s nothing.” “Maybe, you’re just too close to it,” said Will. “You just need a fresh perspective.” “Ok,” said Luke, “What’ve you got?” Will began pacing the room. “Ok, ok, your roommate, he was a big dude, right? Got kicked out for performance enhancers. Any chance you got effected by any?” “Effected? They’re not like viruses or anything. I’d have to have—” It hit Luke like a thunder clap! It had been right in front of him all the time and he hadn’t seen it! He ran over to his vitamin collection and retrieved the small bottle of Vitamin Y. He handed it to Will. “I got this out of the supplements he left behind.” Will looked it over. “Vitamin Y? There’s no such thing as Vitamin Y.” Quickly the boys scavenged the internet looking for information on Vitamin Y, Luke on his lap top and Will on his phone. Both of them came up empty. “Ok, ok,” said Will. “If there’s no such thing as Vitamin Y, what is this shit and where did your roommate get it?” “We could call him and ask,” suggested Luke. “We could,” said Will, “But this shit is obviously illegal, probably experimental. One thing’s for sure: he shouldn’t have it. Who’s to say he’d tell us the truth?” “Good point,” said Luke. “But if we don’t ask him, how do we find out?” “We start by finding out everything we can about him,” said Will. “You said you had his year book?” “Yeah, right here.” Luke opened the desk drawer and removed the tome. It had an index in it which quickly enabled the boys to find every page on which he was featured. The first page was the football team photo. There he was in the back, looking as huge and massive as Luke remembered. “Football Team, no surprises there.” The boys flipped through the pages to the next photo. It was the chess club, in his junior year they had won the state championship. There he was, in front this time, looking appropriately nerd-like—and skinny as they come. “That’s impossible,” said Luke. “But it fits, doesn’t it?” said Will “What does it say about him?” Will flipped through the book until he hit the page he was looking for. “Chess, Football, Honor Student, hopes to go to Harvard, like his father! He’s a legacy!” “So, his dad went here. So what?” “Think about it, Muscles,” said Will, picking up the bottle of Vitamin Y and shaking it, making it rattle. “It’d take somebody pretty smart to come up with this shit.” “His dad?” questioned Luke. “It would fit,” said Will. “And he was right here…” said Luke. “What do you mean he was here?” asked Will, and Luke told him all about Mr. Winton’s strange visit. “He must have come for this,” said Will shaking the bottle of Vitamin Y. “Let’s see what we can find out about him.” They found him listed on the alumni page. He was a research geneticist. “My spine’s tingling, which means I’m on to something,” said Will. “We need to read everything we can about this guy, where he works, what he’s working on, if he’s published anything; we need to read it all.” And so they did. For the rest of the day, they scoured the internet and Harvard’s intranet for anything they could find. Finally Luke stood up. “It’s all here,” said Luke tapping the screen. “His dad was researching the degeneration of the Y chromosome.” “The Y chromosome? That’s the chromosome that makes us male, right?” said Will. “Yup, and it’s degenerating. It’s already lost most of its functional genes.” “What,” gasped Will, “That’s terrifying. If the Y chromosome fails…That means no more males, no more humans!” “Calm down,” said Luke, “We got another 10 million years before it loses all its functional genes. I’m sure we’ll come up with an answer way before then. If fact, it looks like my old roommate’s dad is already hot on the trail. “He’s come up with an idea to reconstitute the lost genes in the Y chromosome. He wants to use gene therapy to beef it up, so to speak. But there’s some controversy as some of these genes haven’t been in the Y chromosome for hundreds of thousands, even millions, of years. Nobody knows what the effect of reintroducing them will be.” Luke sat down again. “Well, almost nobody,” said Luke, flexing his big peaked vein-ridden bicep. “Y chromosome. Vitamin Y,” said Will. “It all fits.” “Fuck,” said Luke. “I’ve got some experimental genetic substance running around inside me.” But his objections seemed hollow and empty, even to himself. He liked the way he looked. He liked the way he felt. And he was now more male than any guy on campus, and by extrapolation, more of a man than any guy on campus. That thought sent a palpable thrill running through his hard, muscular body. “Now, at least, you know what the substance has to be,” said Will. “And if the guy gave it to his own son, I think we can surmise there’s no risk to your health.” “But why would he leave it for me?” asked Luke. “Dude, this guy is trying to save the whole human race,” said Will “He’s not going to do it by altering the chromosomes of one guy, even if it is his son.” “So, what do I do now?” said Luke. “It looks like you’ve got two options: stop taking the pills or continue taking the pills. But I have to say, looking at you, I wouldn’t mind a dose or two myself.” “Here,” said Luke, handing the bottle to Will. “You’ve helped me a lot. It’s the least I can do for you… and for humanity, apparently.” Will helped himself to a handful of pills, dry swallowed one right away and put the bottle back on the desk. “Thanks, Bro!” Later on, after Will left, Luke looked at himself in his mirror and admired his new body. Now that he understood what was happening and that it probably wasn’t going to kill him, it didn’t scare him at all anymore. Damn, he looked good, and all those big, strong, hard muscles felt amazing shifting under his skin. And he could get bigger... But how much bigger? How much bigger would he get? He sat down at his computer and fidgeted with his mouse. What were we like as a species a million years ago? A little quick research showed him no one knew. Our recorded history only went back a paltry few thousand years, the smallest fraction of humanity’s history. Who knew the full extent of the changes these reconstituted genes would bring. He flexed an arm and watched his bicep bulge up. So far, he liked what he was seeing. There was that excess energy again. He found it hard to concentrate on anything. His brain was still working unbelievably fast, but it was like he was in the seat of an F1 racer and he’d just hit an ice patch, or something. He’d lost control of his thoughts; it felt like he was trying to think through a thick fog. Typing suddenly became a task too slow and mundane for his fingers, which flitted across the keys with imprecise haste. He grew frustrated and turned away from his laptop. He got to his feet and started pacing around the room. He kept coming back to the dumb-bells, as though they were drawing him, as though they were the sun and his room the solar system. Everything came back to them. But they were no longer just dumbbells, were they? They were a catalyst. They would alter him further. Did he want that? Did he want that kind of muscle? After all, he was going to be a research scientist. What did a research scientist need with all that muscle? The answer was nothing. He didn’t need it at all. But was a research scientist all that he was. Wasn’t he a man, too? Of course, he was. He knew being big and strong wasn’t all there was to being a man, but wasn’t it a part of it, maybe an important part? Of course it was. Humans are physical beings too, not just intellectual. Hither to, he had pretty much ignored that side of his nature, even suppressed it. But now, he thought as he stared at his bulging, striated chest, it would no longer be ignored. He could feel it calling to him almost as if it had a voice. “C’mon Luke, be a man,” it seemed to say. “Let’s just see how much man you can be.” Luke surrendered to the call, let go of his thoughts, reached down and picked up the dumbbells, not thinking about anything other than how good it felt to pump up his muscles. He craved the burn. The dumb-bells were set to 50 pounds. They were heavy, but not unmanageable anymore. As he held them at his sides, he felt his biceps and forearms going taut, the dormant strength in his arms being readied for duty. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled greedily, admiring his abdominals, admiring the perfect taper and curves of his waist, admiring the vein that was popping out of his bicep thanks to the stress. He pulled one weight up, slowly, evenly, gritting his teeth with exertion and closing his eyes. When he got the weight to its peak, the opened his eyes and looked at his bicep, swollen to a beautiful peak. He licked his lips and let the weight down, before he raised the other, and kept repeating the bicep curls. He did as many exercises as he could, though he was finding them disappointingly easy. His muscles burned and bulged and coursed with strength, but he was increasingly dissatisfied. He needed to get back to the gym, where he could push some real weight. The fifty pounders were pushing him to his limit, but they wouldn’t do that for long, not with the rate he was getting stronger. He let the weights down back on the rack. His body felt hot and sweaty, and his arms felt weak from all the exercises. He’d focused a bit much on the bicep and triceps curls. He checked the time—nearly 10 pm. Nowhere near the time to sleep, yet. He got back to his computer and found it was at least possible to concentrate; most of the excess energy had been worked off. Unfortunately, if he kept using exercise as his solution, his development would quickly get out of control. So what? As the night went on, he tried to get back into his homework. He was mostly successful, but every now and again his brain went into overdrive. He’d start multitasking about a dozen different things, and then the noise of constant thinking became too much to handle and he’d have to take the weights in hand and pound out a few bicep curls. He found it only took a little exercise to vent the extra mental activity; the hard part was putting the dumb-bells down, even if his muscles felt like they were on fire. The veins in his biceps started to become more visible as he worked them harder. He liked them, liked getting them to pop out of his arms. It wasn’t until 4 AM that he managed to get to sleep. He stumbled into his bed in his underwear, sweat gleaming on his skin, coming down in rivulets between his abs. His entire body felt swollen and sore. A warm contentment flooded him. He knew he’d done it again. He knew he was going to get bigger, maybe much bigger, and he was looking forward to it, a lot. Perhaps these new genes were effecting his thought processes as well. He was obsessively enjoying his workouts, enjoying his muscles’ size and strength. But was that a good thing? Was it a smart thing? In the final moments of consciousness, before drifting off to sleep, he realized he no longer cared. He just liked it. Luke had another weird sort of waking dream. He was lying in bed, staring down over his pecs at the rest of his body. He could see his chest muscles, rising up a bit as he breathed. His arms were at his sides, lying on the bed with their biceps facing inward. He tried to move his neck and found he couldn’t. Suddenly, he felt a burning, an awesome burning. Was that even possible in a dream? He tried to wake himself up, but found he still couldn’t move. His chest heaved faster and faster, his pecs rising and falling like the rounded ornaments of a muscular tide. And then as the burning reached intolerable levels, he saw it: his body was actually starting to expand. Whoa! His arms twitched in fits as his biceps literally started to bulge outward, veins pressing against his skin like a roadmap. Oh man! His pectorals started to rise and thicken, faint striations appearing beneath his skin. Oh fuck! He couldn’t see the rest of his body, but he could feel it, feel his legs burning and pulsing with strength, feel his powerful thighs thickening and expanding with pure lean, brutal muscle. Yes! He began to yell, not with fear but with ecstasy. “ARRRGGHHHH! YEAH!!!! YEAH!!!! OH FUCK YEAH!!!! ARRRGGGHHH!” Luke snapped awake, the echos of his yells, still resounding in his ears. He remembered the details of his dream, still felt the burning. Had he really been yelling? He immediately swung his legs over the side of his bed and felt them rubbing against one another, his thighs chafing. He spread his legs out and looked down, half-expecting to see his old, flabby legs again. He did not. What he saw instead were huge, long, thick, muscular stalks. Oh fuck! He bounded got out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror. Holy fuck, he looked huge! First, he was taller, well over 6 feet, now. At least six inches taller than when all this started. His chest and back were wider than ever, now definitely substantially wider than a normal guy’s. Even his neck had grown thicker, so that it was nearly wider than his head, supported by noticeable trapezium muscles that obscured where his neck ended and his body began. His shoulders were half the size of his head, leading to huge biceps and triceps that bulged with burgeoning power. Even his forearms had grown thicker. His abdomen had become a study in grooves. He had an eight or ten pack now, each individual muscle bulging out of his mid-section like a cobblestone. The oblique muscles along his sides were impossible to miss, now. His legs had grown as well, particularly in his thighs, which had grown so large that unless he broadened his stance, they rubbed together. He took deep breaths, staring at his unbelievable physique. He remembered The Douche from the gym just a few days ago: at the time he had seemed pretty muscular. Now Luke was bigger, way bigger. That made him grin. When he breathed, his entire body rippled. He raised an arm and flexed it slowly, savoring the motion. His bicep grew and peaked, separating from the rest of his arm, the veins along it writhing as the muscle exerted itself. Irresistibly, one hand slipped down into his Jockeys and he started massaging his huge stiffening cock, licking his lips and flexing his muscles. His stomach clenched and bulged as he touched himself, even as he flexed his arm for his own enjoyment. He leaned forward and flexed his traps, which snapped to life with astonishing power. From this angle they looked huge. He groaned softly and finished himself off, falling to his knees with force of his orgasm. He hit the floor with a thud. He took a heavy breath and looked at himself in his mirror, on his hands and knees. Aside from his face, he barely even recognized himself. Why am I enjoying it so much? He was so different. He knew he really should be afraid, but he wasn’t. He was excited. Luke slowly got back to his feet, bracing his palm against his knee. As he stood up, he naturally assumed a wide stance, his legs held apart so that his thighs weren’t competing for space. His arms were hanging lazily off of his muscular sides, which expanded and contracted slightly with each breath. He swallowed and he could see his neck surge with power. He licked his lips and tried to straighten his thoughts. What am I becoming, Luke asked himself, staring at his Herculean physique in his mirror. He raised a hand to his chin and his bicep bunched up to the size of a grapefruit. Whoa. He looked dubiously to the overlarge shirt that he’d discarded last night. Would it even fit? Only one way to find out. He pulled the shirt over his head and felt it tightening against his new bulk. It was tight, but not too uncomfortable. When he looked at himself in the mirror, though, it was plain that he was no longer skinny. The shirt was tight around the muscular contours of his body, and if anything, the pale fabric actually highlighted Luke’s transformation. When he pulled on his pants, they were stretched nearly to breaking around his thighs, though his tight waist didn’t prove a challenge. He took a breath and felt the fabric of his shirt straining against his hard bugling torso, and grinned. He liked the feeling. He liked it a lot. At least that was clear. He looked over at the innocuous looking bottle of Vitamin Y, and pondered his next big decision: Should he continue taking them? Why shouldn’t he? He knew that he had already passed by the bounds of conventional muscularity, but there was nothing wrong with it. He was free to get as jacked as he liked. “Yeah,” Luke muttered, feeling unusually cocky. “Jacked.” He raised his arm and flexed the bicep, watching it swell up huge and hard and veiny. He could feel the fabric straining; if he kept this up, it was going to tear. So, he kept it up. RRRIIIIP! Oh fuck yeah. That was it. He was sold. He took the Vitamin Y. Luke went out and bought some Olympic size weights and a bench for his dorm room. He was committed now, ready to go for it, all the way, come what may. And he was damned excited about the possibilities. He pulled off his baggy pants. His current shirt was squeezed uncomfortably across his pecs. He flexed his chest and felt the fabric stretching nearly to the breaking point as his chest exploded into a bulging plate of striated lines. He lifted the front and rubbed a hand along his washboard stomach, feeling each individual ab muscle barely contained by a thin layer of skin. He thought about them even bigger. Oh, fuck yeah. He immediately got to work, loading up the barbell with massive plates, until it weighed 300 pounds. He knew he’d be pushing it, and he didn’t care. He laid down on the bench and reached up to grab the bar, wrapping his hands around the corrugated metal surface. He bit his lower lip and heaved the weight off of its rest, immediately feeling the incredible pressure bearing down on his chest and arms. His face worked itself into an expression of rage as he slowly lowered the heavy weight and forced it back up, his muscles pushed to the brink of what they could do, bulging against his skin. Veins spread across his chest and biceps like spider webs as blood pounded through his muscles to fuel his insane workout. But now his insanity had a clear purpose and vision, no more uncertainly. He knew what he wanted. He thought about his muscles getting bigger, becoming inhumanly huge. He imagined shoulders like boulders, biceps more muscular than a python’s body. He grinned. I’ll walk naked at midnight if I want. He pumped the weight up and down with reckless fury, grunting at the apex of each repetition. Just as he felt his arms shaking out of control, he forced three more repetitions and finished with a savage scream. He put the barbell back onto its resting place and let his arms flop to his sides. His breath came in exhausted heaves, his lungs inflating like bellows as he inhaled huge gulps of air. A drunken smile was plastered on his face. After he took a rest, he removed some of the weight from the barbell and heaved it up onto his back for squats. He didn’t bother holding back his grunting anymore. It felt good to release his animal fury as his muscles were pushed to exhaustion. It cleared his head. Made it possible to think clearly. He went through a series of squats with burning intensity. Years of quiet rage burst back to his consciousness as he lowered himself beneath the deep weight of the barbell and forced himself back to a standing position. He remembered all the times people had called him a nerd, or belittled him just because he was smarter than they were. “Now—” he grunted in between reps, “I’m—bigger—and—stronger—than—them—too—yeah!” He dipped down for another squat and momentarily panicked as he realized his muscles were too exhausted to bring his back up. Somehow that enraged him, and on nothing but the power of blind, primal fury, he pushed himself back to his feet. He awkwardly made his way back to the weight set and laid the barbell back on its rack. The strength went out of his legs and he fell to his knees, leaning against the weight set. He laid on the weight set, his arms and legs flopping uselessly over the sides. With every deep, heaving gasp, his body heaved and swelled, revealing deeply striated muscles overlaid with a road map of veins. He found the strength to raise his right arm and just stared at his unflexed muscle, the huge bicep separated from his arm and criss-crossed with thick veins. He smiled. The work was done. Time to grow. After he recovered enough strength to stumble to the closet, he found the keg of protein powder his roommate had left behind and mixed a gigantic drink. He slurped it down immediately, then made two more. He’d meant to eat some fruit he’d bought earlier, but somehow that slipped his mind entirely. He wiped chocolate-flavored mush from the corner of his mouth and mixed another glass to take to his bed. He stumbled back to his bed and then popped another vitamin as he swallowed the rest of his drink. Finally, he flopped onto his bed and chuckled to himself as he fell asleep, savoring the burning in his muscles, the sweat on his skin, and hungering for the metamorphosis that was about to come…. Luke didn’t dream, this time, and his sleep passed as soundly as it ever had. When he woke up, it was with the sudden clarity of someone who had had exactly as much sleep as they wanted. He rolled out of bed and found his body big and clumsy. Barely able to contain his excitement, he pushed himself to his feet. Whoa, he was so fucking far off the ground now. He looked to the mirror and ROARED! He was fucking MASSIVE, a monster over 7 feet tall and all enormous, shredded muscle after shredded muscle after shredded muscle! He had to step back so the mirror would reflect his entire massively muscled body. He started to laugh, a deep rumbling, frightening sound. His carved biceps had swollen to the size of his head, and his shoulders were like boulders. His arms rested at a slight angle on his broad back, rising and falling with each deep breath. Veins pulsed on his biceps like writhing snakes, and had even started to wrap around his muscular forearms. His chest was buried by huge, beef-like slabs of pectoral muscle. Veins spread from a knot in his collarbone across his pecs, like a fine, branching road map that twisted as he breathed. Over-sized abs bulged and competed for space on his slim waist, almost making it look like he had a gut. Veins spread from his crotch over his abs and down to his thighs, which had become as thick as tree trunks. He had to widen his stance to keep his veiny inner thighs from touching one another. His calves had grown as well, moving from svelte, contoured muscles to bulging spheres in the shape of hearts. He turned around and examined his back, a brimming landscape bulging and twisting with huge muscles. He could see faint veins there, too. When he twisted his neck to look at himself, his giant traps resisted him, making it hard to look over his huge shoulders. He turned himself back around, clumsily adjusting to his new stance, and looked at himself from the front. He couldn’t help but stare at his barely-contained gigantic, ripped and bulging frame. He smiled, raised both his massive arms, and flexed his huge biceps, forming miniature mountains of muscles on his arms. Veins spread from his huge chest, across his giant shoulders, and through his enormous peaked biceps, bursting beneath his skin as huge muscles pushed them to the surface. He flexed his abs and watched them clench into brutal ridges of throbbing beef. Oh… fuck! Look at me! I’m a fucking massive genetic freak! And I feel… I feel fucking amazing! He knew that he wasn’t supposed to be proud of being a freak, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t a boy anymore, he was a genetic muscle monster, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He flexed and growled into his mirror, watching his godlike physique swell and bulge into astonishing shapes. He glanced down at the clock. Midnight. He snorted contemptuously. “Think I’ll hit the gym.” Of course he was stark naked and nothing he owned would fit him anymore. Then he remembered his old roommates Gym shorts. He pulled them from the wastebasket, shook the old underwear free from them and pulled them on. They were a perfect fit. Of course there was nothing else he could wear, so he’d have to go in only gym shorts. Ha. Fine with him. As soon as he stepped out his door he ran into Jimmy, the RA, looking sleep deprived as always. “Hey,” said Jimmy, as quizzical expression on his face, “I thought they kicked you out.” “That was my roommate,” rumbled Luke in his new baritone. “I thought your roommate was a little guy,” said Jimmy, looking more confused than ever. “I wouldn’t call him that,” said Luke, with a sly smile. “No, of course not,” said Jimmy. “Sorry if I gave away all your rubbers.” “No problem,” said Luke. “If I need any I can always borrow some from you.” “Nah, man,” said Jimmy. “They’d never fit you.” “No, they wouldn’t,” said Luke, tugging up on his gym shorts so they emphasized his ample package. “See you around.” Then he headed down the stairs to the lobby. He stopped by the security guard’s desk and said, “I’m going to the gym. Is that ok with you?” Luke saw the security guards eyes bug out at the unapologetic display of bugling, vein-ridden, masculine power standing in front of him. “Absolutely, sir. You go where ever you want whenever you want,” he said. “That’s what I thought,” said Luke, shooting the guard a cocky smile. He flexed his massive pecs for the guard, making them leap and dance, before heading out the door with his new rolling gate, courtesy of his gigantic, muscular thighs. As he walked across the campus, he saw the same shadowy figures moving just out of eyesight, but now they seemed tiny and inconsequential. And they seemed to be scurrying away from him just as fast as they could. Luke felt a self-satisfied smile manifest on his face as he enjoyed the sensation of his huge iron-like muscles shifting across his towering frame as he thundered through the night. When he got to the gym, he realized he had forgotten his ID card, but he went in anyway. Who was going to stop him? As soon as he walked in all eyes were on him. Of course they were. No one had seen anything like him in about a million years. One glance around showed him that The Douche was there. Could the night get any better? The Douche was doing Military presses; so, naturally, Luke set up right next to him. The Douche had one plate on each side of his bar. Luke added 4 plates to each side of his, knowing instinctively that his mammoth striated shoulders could easily handle the weight. He saw The Douche looking up at him with uncertain eyes as Luke began his set. Oh Luke loved this. He loved the feel of the weight in his hands. He loved feeling his muscles extend and contract powerfully as he raised and lowered the barbell over his head. He could feel his shoulders burning, his massive back heaving, his stone-like abs tightening. He felt like muscles were bulging out of his muscles as he finished his set and wracked the weight. He looked down at the substantially shorter Douche, and nodded at the guy’s barbell. “Light workout tonight?” “Yeah, yeah, sure,” said the Douche. “Me too,” grinned Luke, adding another plate to each side of his bar, and giving The Douche a good view of his monumental bulging, veiny biceps at the same time. “Do you think you could give me a hand?” “Ah… ah...,” stammered The Douche. “I’m kind of at the end of my workout. My shoulders are pretty beat. I don’t think I could spot you.” He began rubbing one of his shoulders and moving it around. “Spot me?” Luke laughed. “No dude, I was just noticing there aren’t any more plates nearby. I was going to ask you to grab onto the bar with both hands and hold on tight.” “What, you mean like this?” asked The Douche grabbing onto the bar. “That’s perfect,” said Luke grabbing the bar himself and lifting it out of the supports. “Hold on tight. ” Then Luke began his second set of military presses, lifting the bar with ten plates and the Douche hanging off of it, up and down over his head. Luke felt the burn intensely. This was actually turning out to be something of a challenge. The look on The Douche’s face was priceless. He looked torn between being scared, awestruck and humiliated. Good. Luke finished his ten reps and replaced the bar in the supports. The Douche was still hanging on for dear life. “You can let go now,” said Luke. “Thanks.” “Sure, sure,” said The Douche. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” said Luke. “What?” said The Douche. “Go on, flex. Let’s see what you’ve got.” “Ah… ok…,” said The Douche and flexed. Up came his baseball. Luke flexed, and up bulged his giant, throbbing, vein-covered mountain. Oh fuck yeah. The Douche’s eyes bugged out of his head. “I’ve… ah… gotta go now.” “Ok,” said Luke, “And cheer up. We’ve all gotta start somewhere. Although, looking at you…” And then it happened. Luke could tell The Douche had suddenly recognized him. The Douche’s mouth dropped open, he turned pale white and he looked like he was going to shit his pants. “It’s all about taking the right vitamins,” said Luke grinning, and intermittently flexing his massive pecs. The Douche turned and practically ran to the locker room. Luke just broke out laughing. Life was good. “Picking on the little guy, Muscles?” Luke turned around and there was Will, except it was more like Will and a half. His friend had gotten substantially bigger. He was at least f 4 inches taller, still dressed in his old street clothes, Luke could see big pecs were now stretching out his shirt, straining the buttons and pulling the front slightly apart. His upper arms had substantially expanded, and once again his shirt was challenged to contain both them and his meaty shoulders. And obviously muscular thighs were stretching out his pants. Soon he wouldn’t be alone. Soon there’d be another behemoth walking around Harvard. In fact, Will seemed to be growing faster than he had. Luke grinned. “Whoa Dude, what happened to you?” Will grinned. “I wanted to catch up with you so I embarked on an accelerated program of eating, sleeping, working out, and vitamin Y,” Will flexed causing his big arm to bulge up in his shirt and pop a few threads in his sleeve. “I feel like a new man!” “More like a rebooted ancient man,” said Luke, grinning. “So what do you think they’ll call us?” said Will. “I mean there’s been Cro-Magnon Man and Chancelade Man… What will we be called?” “I don’t know,” said Luke. “How about Harvard Man?”
  4. Shade

    Scotty's Family Trouble

    Links to previous Scotty stories: Scotty Scotty 2.0 Scotty Takes Control Scotty’s Family Trouble Matt powered up the bar, grunting, on his last rep. “We’ve been over this, dude,” I told him, my hands under the bar and ready to spot the weight. “I just don’t see why I gotta wait,” Matt grumbled, for about the hundredth time. I watched him rack the bar and let out a huge sigh. “Too much growth in too many people would look suspicious,” interjected Rich, standing there watching Matt and I, and looking exasperated. “Besides, you’re already coming along. Look how much you’re benching.” Matt just lay on the bench looking up at me like I’d knocked him down. The four hundred pounds on the big Olympic bar hung in the air above his head. I’d given him his fourth pill already, and his pecs were looking pumped and swole. The pills were obviously having their desired effect and his strength gains were through the roof if that last set was anything to go by. My own gains in the last four weeks had continued to be epic too of course, especially with the cocktail of pills and gear that I’d been taking. I picked up the bar in my grip, testing its weight, and started cranking out one bicep curl after the other. “’Sides, bro,” I told Matty, “This weight is too light for you now. You didn’t even need me to spot you. If you want to grow, you gotta put more pounds on.” I didn’t stop repping until I’d hit twenty. I felt my guns swollen slightly with the effort, even though I’d been training chest. Finally, I re-racked the bar with a clang. “See it’s you doing shit like that, man, that makes me jealous.” “Yeah, it was kind of light too,” I informed him, adding insult to injury. “C’mon, brah.” I nodded towards the locker room and reached my massive fist down to give Matt a hand up. I practically pulled him off the bench with one hand. Matt had finally broken two hundred pounds with the third pill but he still felt light to me. I pushed his sorry ass towards the locker room. “Scotty and I both grew before too many people had seen us,” Rich lectured as he followed behind, in a tone like one of our high school teachers might use. “It helped minimize the impact of the growth. But if suddenly everyone starts hulking out it will bring entirely the wrong kind of attention.” Something about what he said made me look around the gym. The other dudes at Big Mike’s had gotten used to the sight of us two hulks over the last two months since school started, as Rich and I had been pounding out unearthly amounts of weight. Adding Matty to the training mix hadn’t raised too many eyebrows yet. But like Rich said, he seemed to be growing at a relatively reasonable pace. Still, I had a moment of pause wondering if we shouldn’t somehow be more discreet. But how could I ever be discreet? I was meant to be larger than life. Little did all these dudes know but Big Mike’s, for all its massive weights, was barely able to even give me a real pump these days. “Listen to the Dweeb, dude,” I told Matty, with a sideways grin. “He’s smarter than us two knuckleheads put together. Hell, anyway I thought you wanted to be a fitness model.” “Fuck you,” was the only reply I got. It was spoken half in jest and whole in earnest, as my momma would have said. But I could tell from his grin that even though he was frustrated, he would be okay with the pace of change. Anyway, neither Rich nor I were willing to give him any other choice. * * * It was Saturday afternoon, and after we’d hit the showers, we headed back to our respective homes. I couldn’t quite get my mind off how at least one other gym goer had been watching us that day. Blake Moran. He was the captain of the football team at the school across town. I figured he was a roid head like me, and I could see when he lifted at Big Mike’s that he was strong to boot. You had to be a serious lifter to go to Big Mike’s in the first place. But he was also a rich boy. His daddy owned a bunch of car dealerships and I figured he could afford the good stuff. The kinda stuff that Uncle Gio gave to me at the discounted rate. I was just a poor boy from the other side of the railroad tracks. Literally. And I need to earn my coin the hard way. I’d moved my stuff down to the basement a couple weeks ago. I needed the room to spread out and it had been a good space to start my new career as a webcam muscle god. Also, it was where I kept the pills in a lock box hidden in a crawl space behind some shelves. The same place I kept my gear from prying eyes around the house. I’d retrieved another couple bottles of Dr Wenk’s miracle pills when I got home. I was taking a pill a day at this point. It wasn’t making me grow as much, but I was still getting stronger and stronger. Like I said, Big Mike’s wasn’t big enough anymore. I needed a greater challenge. In the last few weeks I’d started looking further afield to get the heft of weight I needed for squats, benching, and deadlifts. And I had a plan. I was gonna create a sort of home gym. I’d found an abandoned warehouse a few miles out of town that might be a good spot for it. The old brick building had started life as an old mill, and expanded somewhat over a hundred years of operation. However, the benefit for us: the building had stood vacant for at least fifty years. The Dweeb and I had discussed some possibilities and were batting around ideas of what we might be able to do with it. I was pretty sure the Dweeb would be outgrowing Big Mike’s soon too and we’d need somewhere else to train. But first I had to work on raising some cash to pay for it all. I flipped on the cam and fired up my chat. “How you skinny bitches doing?” I said cockily into the camera as I saw them all eagerly start to come online, giving some shout outs to all my regular viewers when they appeared. I’d never really thought of webcamming to earn cash before I got huge. I mean some of the bigger dudes I’d worked construction with this past summer had joked about fags who’d pay cash to watch them jerk off or fuck pussy. And those were two things I did a lot. So, I’d looked around and saw that there were indeed a few guys who seemed to do shows, some for free and some for money. A little research and I was in business. I was the right age to keep it legal and let’s face it: twenty dollars is twenty dollars. As much food as I eat is eye wateringly expensive. Not to mention my supplements that Gio gets me. Even at the discounted rate it burns a hole in the wallet. At least Dr Wenk took his payment in kind. My business of webcamming started slow, but I found my reputation spread pretty quickly and I wasn’t shy. Soon I was giving shows for individuals and bigger audiences. “Just trained chest,” I told the guys, leaning back in my chair. “And I’m swole as fuck.” I was wearing a new shirt and a pair of jeans, and I put my right arm up, hand behind my head. My tri was like a side of beef, thick and juicy, and I could hear the threads in the sleeve start popping. Hopefully so could my audience. “Fuck, dudes,” I panted, leaning over to lick the massive swell of my right gun. “I just bought this shirt, but I’m not sure it’s gonna last until this evening.” I bounced my pecs, feeling the tightness as they pushed against the fabric. “I just benched a ton at the gym earlier.” Even thinking about it made me uncomfortably tight in my jeans. I always told my audience the truth. A small fraction of them might believe it was true. Some might merely hope it was true, so they could live their fantasies as they stroked their little dicks watching me. But I knew most of them would think it was all hyperbole. Just some massive dude putting on a show for the audience jerking off on the other side of the lens. My left hand tugged unconsciously at the collar of my shirt. I hadn’t lied either. I had just bought this shirt yesterday and worn it for the first time today. I’d figured it’d be plenty big for a while. Guess I was wrong. I flexed again. The pump right now was fucking amazing. Well it was most days after the gym, to be honest. Arnold hadn’t been lying about that in Pumping Iron. It was like cumming. Maybe not quite as good, but still it was pretty damn good. Yeah, I felt the size of my pecs swell as I stoked the fire. Each squeeze mighty. I flexed my left arm, marveling at its size myself. The other night I’d pulled a ham my mom had bought out of the freezer and held it up against my guns in full view of the cam, just so my audience could see how big I really was. And my upper arm was definitely bigger than that ham. The cash had been coming in thick and fast that night. Tonight, I flexed those same arms again. Once, twice, and riiiiiiip. That motherfucker let out a satisfying sound as my arm burst out along the seam. “You want more little dudes, you know what to do. This muthafucka don’t come free.” I could hear the cha-ching even as I watched the cash come in. Fuck, the internet was marvelous. Well as I earned enough for my next round of gear from Gio, I guess the boys had earned their reward. “Okay, you little fuckers, get ready…” I was at full mast and I knew my bulge would be apparent. I pushed my chair back to give them a good view of everything. The lighting could have been better of course. I wasn’t as sophisticated as I could be and maybe I could get one of the geeks who took broadcast courses at the community college to help me light it all better. Whatever that could wait until another day. Leaning back, I brought my arm up and squeezed my massive double biceps. BOOM. BOOM. Those fuckers were so big they had their own center of gravity. Then I started squeezing my pecs. Bringing my arms up and down like I was doing a set of reps on a pec deck. Feeling the ache and burning as I grunted on each flex. The shirt was tight around my throat. It was tight around my back. And my pecs looked like a mountain range of shifting tectonics underneath. As the pump grew the audience and I both focused on the rise and fall of the muscles. Each flex brought the rise a little higher, the fall a little higher too. Even I felt the excitement building, not quite believing that I was pushing so much. Showing these worshippers what kind of god they were watching. “Fuck, yeah! Dudes!” I hollered. “You seeing this shit?” Slowly, but picking up pace, I could feel the tears happening all over. That cotton was not able to contain me as it split, up the sides where my lats forced their way through and the neck where one thread after another snapped against the thick cords of muscle. The symphony coming to a crescendo as the valley of my pecs was deeply exposed and the fabric ripped apart. “OOOOHHHHHH YEEEAAAHHHH!!!!” The shirt split right down the center, torn open from collar down to the massive blocks I called a ten pack. Tiny bits of shirt clinging to me around my shoulders as I sat there. Fuck, I was stoked. I stood up, pulling the tattered remains of my shirt away and flexed a massive most muscular into the webcam. Grinning from ear to ear. “Did you see that, you tiny little boys? Did ya? That was a 6XL. I just tore through a shirt made for a 70 inch chest. Did you hear that, 70 fucking inches? That’s nearly six feet of muscle! Torn apart by just my pump!” My excitement reached a fever pitch as I flexed those massive slabs, in a move that could crush a car, and I could feel my cock pressing, swollen, leaking. I took a step back. I groaned, shuddering, as I felt the button at top of my jeans pop open, the zipper unable to contain me any longer, tearing through, tearing apart, pulling my tight jockstrap until the waistband of the jock could no longer withstand the power of that cannon and snapped. My cock rose up like a tower finally free from all containment. I sat back down, my hand pulling on my cock as I moaned, audience forgotten. I felt sweat on my chest, one hand on my cock, the other on my massive hairy pecs. Like it sometimes did with the pills, I felt the pump moving through me. Mostly just from my upper body, but down further and further still to my quads and calves. The seams of denim of my jeans, much stronger than the cotton, strained as well. A quick tear down the center where the material had been stretched to its furthest relieved not just the pressure, but exposed my massive wheels to my audience as well. I leaned my head back, so fucking long and thick. This needed two hands, and in my two massive fists the head of my cock still rose over and above, triumphant. For an ordinary man it would have taken at least three hands for the same coverage. My voice came from the back of my throat, glutaral, like a wolf, growling, deep, reverberating. As I beat it off. Massive. Thick. I looked up at the screen. “Watch this you little fucks. You can see what a real man can do.” All sense of time was lost, I could have been at it for a few minutes or a few hours, but that thought sent me over the edge and the white-hot fluid fired out and up. “OH, YEAH. OH, FUCK, YEAH!” The first shot launched well over my head. The second even further. The third and the fourth near my head. The fifth on the stubble of my chin. And as I kept firing I felt the burn on my pecs and abs until by the twenty-first shot of cum the fluid became more of a slow pouring of liquid lava, pooling on my fist and I pulled my hand away letting it ooze out and onto my big hairy balls. “Fuck, dudes.” I shook my hand, cum flying off and onto the basement floor. “Guess I got a little excited. Good thing the floor down here is cement, huh?” I laughed a few more times and did some more gratuitous flexing, cum still dripping. I was still hard, and I knew I could get myself worked up again pretty easily. Hell, I could cum nine or ten times without even going soft. But always keep them wanting more, right? “Thanks for watching as always, little guys. If you want to catch this big Italian stud again, you know what to do.” I gave them my best cheeky grin and a wink, and turned off the cam. I looked around and grabbed a roll of paper towel I’d started leaving down here for just such occasions. I went looking for the first shot and realized it had hit one of the ceiling beams about ten feet behind my head. The rest took me about ten minutes to clean up. The clothes were a total write off. Maybe I could charge all these torn clothes as a business expense, I thought? Not that I planned on paying taxes. Even the jeans were beyond any further use as garments. I guess mom could make them into dust rags or whatever. There was a knock at the door, and I hollered “What!?!” Quickly covering myself up in case someone decided to poke their head in. “Patrice needs some help!” shouted my mother. Patrice was the slut my brother Ricky was shacked up with. He’d knocked her up his senior year of high school and they’d been living together since graduation. Although my mother never spoke ill of anyone, she always got a certain look in her eye when Patrice’s name was mentioned. And Ricky was already a constant embarrassment to my father. “What’s the matter?” I yelled up. “She’s got a flat and your brother is at work. Can you give her a hand?” “Yeah, no problem! Tell her I’ll be there in a minute.” Just my luck. * * * I’d pulled on a muscle shirt that was open at the sides, ‘cause I didn’t think I had anything else in my wardrobe that would fit anyway. My lats were already too wide for a lot of my shirts. My truck pulled into my brother’s gravel driveway and I got out. Patrice was waiting for me on the step to their porch. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Is that you, Scotty?” I had to give a chuckle. I keep forgetting that so many people hadn’t seen me since I put on all this new muscle. “Yeah, girl. It’s all me.” “Damn, boy. You’ve grown some.” Patrice was only a couple years older than me and was looking me up and down like a bitch in heat. “So, where’s my sweet niece?” I asked, trying to change the subject. This was my bro’s girl after all – whether or not she really was a slut. “Maddy’s off with my mother and sister, so she can spend some time with her cousins. I was gonna run some errands, but you can see for yourself. Patrice had a car of her own, and it was parked in a shady spot further up the driveway. I walked up and had a look. The tire was pretty flat, no doubt about it. “My AAA membership is expired,” she said coming up behind me. I turned and looked at her squarely. I doubt she or my brother ever had a AAA membership in their lives. That’s what big, burly male relatives were for in Patrice’s book. “No problem. I’ll have this fixed in a minute.” I found the spare easily enough. Trouble was, there was no jack. “Where’s the jack?” I asked. “What’s a jack?” She genuinely looked like she had no idea. I bit my lip. It wasn’t that I minded showing off, but hell. There was showing off and there was showing off. “Do you need a jack?” “Most men would.” “Well you’re big and strong.” I walked back and grabbed the tire with my free hand. It was a Toyota Camry, and I figured it wasn’t weighing any more than I was deadlifting these days. “Stand back,” I told her. I took a look around and couldn’t see anyone watching, so I squatted down and reached under the carriage of the car. “Scotty, I was joking. Don’t try and lift my car.” Taking a deep breath, I heaved the weight up. I could feel the tremor run through my muscles, biceps flexed and quads tensed. The car rose, and then even to my own surprise I was standing there, holding onto the car in one hand. Patrice’s car didn’t have hub caps, and I reached down and started unscrewing the old rusty lug nuts with my fingers. There weren’t that many. As quick as a wink, I had the old tire off and the new tire on, as good as new. My arm was getting tired at this stage and I happily let the car back down onto the ground, massaging my fingers that had become impressed into the undercarriage of her car by now. I turned to look at Patrice and she was standing there, slack jawed. “Holy fuck!” “It wasn’t that heavy.” “Holy fuck! Scotty!” She looked ready to faint, and I moved to grab her just as her legs collapsed. Great. I picked her up, and took her into the house. I had to turn slightly sideways to get through their front door. My brother and Patrice lived modestly, even by my standards. She wasn’t heavy but I set her on their well-used sofa in the living and went into the kitchen to get her a drink of water. “Wake up.” I really wasn’t sure what the proper protocol was in this instance. Finally, after a few moments, she started to come to. “That was amazing.” She still looked a bit breathless. She took the water from my hand and took a drink, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “I never knew you were that strong.” “Yeah, well I work out.” I flex my gun for her. “And I’m really fucking strong.” She stood up and walked over to me, reaching out to feel my arm. She even tried to squeeze it, but my muscle was like hot steel. “Ricky ain’t that strong.” “Well I’m not Ricky.” “No kidding.” She grabbed my dick right through my shorts. “You’re a whole lot bigger.” “Fuck!” I groaned. This was my brother’s baby momma. And I was filling up in her hand. However, I was still a man. And Patrice may not be a model, but she was not unattractive either. I’d never quite understood what she saw in my brother anyway. “Big. All. Over.” “Don’t be starting something unless you expect to finish it,” I let her know. Her hands responded by rubbing over my pecs. “How strong are you?” she wondered. I walked back into the kitchen where I’d seen a big cast iron skillet sitting on the stove. I picked it up by the handle. “Stronger than this.” With a firm grip of the pan, I started to roll it up like it was a piece of paper. Soon there wasn’t anything left but a long thin piece of metal, pretty much unrecognizable as a skillet. I folded that rolled up piece again, and then I started to squeeze. I felt the veins in my forearms pulse and I compressed the metal of the pan until it was about as tight as it could get. Patrice shuddered, and I saw a wet spot on her shorts. “I guess that turns you on.” She looked like she might faint again, so I tossed the metal to the side and grabbed her in my arms. I leaned down and kissed her, long and hard. I pulled her up to me as she couldn’t reach my lips from the floor, I was so much taller. Our bodies were together, hers pressed against my hard, unyielding muscles. As our mouths came together, tongues meeting, and in a fog of testosterone and lust I forgot everything but the feeling of her hands traveling up and down my body. I tore my shirt off, grunting as I pushed down my shorts. I didn’t wait for her to undress, just picked her up and pulled her cheeks apart, tearing open the fabric and feeling my god cock rip into her. There was nothing for it but to hold on for the ride. I began to thrust. Slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed and momentum. I thought about my crushing power, and the ease with which I had lifted her car. I felt all the cockiness of my own size and massive strength. I got harder and harder inside Patrice, and she moaned with pleasure as I pumped into her. Fuck, I had so much power. Unbridled. What couldn’t I do? I thrust into her deep and hard, lifting her into the air with only the strength of my dick. I pumped and pumped and pumped with every thought of my own growing muscle power. Then I came inside Patrice, feeling her shudder with orgasm after orgasm, as I emptied my seed insider her. “Oh my God, that was amazing!” she cried out. “I’m only just getting started,” I told her. And that was the truth. * * * Later that night I came downstairs from taking a shower. I had smelled badly of sex and sweat, all my errands forgotten as I’d spent the afternoon buried in my brother’s girlfriend’s hole. When I came home earlier my dad had just looked at me and nodded his head. He was proud of his son, although he might not have felt that way if he’d known who I was fucking. I stopped by the kitchen, wrapped in nothing but a towel, and found my older brother Ricky sitting there at the table eating out of a tray of lasagna mom had made for me earlier. “You better not be eating my dinner,” I told him. “Fuck me,” he whistled. “You’re looking bigger every time I see you.” “Well you’re looking skinnier than ever.” “We can’t all be 300 pound studs like you.” “350 pounds,” I let him know. At least that’s what I told people who asked. Truth was the truck scales Rich and I used last time told me I was almost twice as heavy. I reached over and grabbed the tray of lasagna, pulling it out of his reach. He’d only had a couple small bites before I’d arrived. I held out my hand and waited patiently for him to give me the fork. With a long sigh he put it in my hand. “Jesus Christ,” growled our father, walking into the kitchen. “Look at you two bastards, eating me out of house and home.” Saying my dad was burly was putting it mildly. When I was a kid, I used to think there wasn’t anyone bigger. And back then my dad could and did put most other men to shame. Even now, at the age of 41 he could have won any amateur bodybuilding contest that he set out to enter. “Awww, Pop,” I said between bites of lasagna. “I’ll give some money to mom tomorrow for the food.” He looked satisfied with my answer. Scotty could pay his own way. “And what about you, you skinny fuck.” He turned to my brother. I managed not to chuckle at my dad’s use of the descriptor, even though it was merited. “That baby momma of yours forget how to feed you?” “We had another fight, Pop.” “What’s the matter now?” He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, sitting down at the kitchen table next to me. “I think she’s cheatin’ on me, Pop.” “What? How do you know?” “I just know.” I looked at them both. This cut a little too close to home, considering where I’d spent my afternoon. That is to say in the same hole my brother used. Cheating indeed. Ricky had a hangdog expression. My dad’s face was angry. “Why can’t you be more like your brother, Scotty?” he asked. “You don’t see him knocking up sluts and whining about some sad piece of ass.” This was not an unfamiliar line of commentary around the house. Ricky had just never been much like our dad. He wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, and working on the docks was probably the best he could ever hope for. Dad prided himself on masculinity. And Ricky hadn’t quite measured up in that department either, unfortunately. Both the men from mom’s and dad’s sides of the family were big and pretty manly in all the traditional ways. Ricky just wasn’t an alpha male. And it was still a little early to tell with our younger brother, Johnny. Although I figured my trip to the juvenile detention facility the other day had taken care of that. I’d even heard my dad tell one of his buddies once that he wondered if Ricky was even his. Although he couldn’t believe mom would ever cheat on him. It was just such a tough comparison since I’d obviously taken after dad for sure, and now that I’d grown, he found an even greater respect for me. To be cheated on by your wife was about as low as you could go with my father. If you couldn’t keep your woman happy, you weren’t a man. And a man should be the one servicing more than one woman. My dad sighed, and stood up. Ricky’s head was hung in shame. “I’m not sure how you ever managed to father that child in the first place. It’s probably not even yours.” He stomped off into the other room. “Don’t mind him,” I told Ricky, finishing the lasagna. “Naw, bro, he’s right. You’re both right. I am just a skinny little fuck.” “So how do you know she’s banging someone?” “I found the condom in the garbage. Next to our fucking bed. The bitch didn’t even bother to hide it.” I looked away suddenly, and breathed a sigh of relief. I’d cum in her a lot today, but I hadn’t worn a condom once. But then I had another thought. Fuck, this was worse than I thought. Patrice really was a slut. “She threw me out when I got home tonight. Told me I wasn’t even half a man.” Okay, that probably was my fault. “Look, man,” I wondered. “If she’s such a slut, why do you stay with her then?” “I love her man.” Well I couldn’t argue with that, even if I thought he was being a stupid shit. Let the bitch go. There was plenty pussy. Ricky was gonna get himself hurt if he kept on like this. But my heart skipped a beat watching my brother’s suffering. And maybe I felt, I dunno, a tiny bit guilty. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?” I said, suddenly struck by an idea. “We’ll figure this out in the morning. And I’m going to take you to the gym tomorrow. You don’t have to be a skinny fuck you know. And I won’t hear any excuses.” “Thanks, bro.” “No problem.” We sat there in silence for a few minutes. “Scotty?” “Yeah?” “Why don’t you go put on some pants?” “Fuck you, bro. Fuck you.” The End (for now)
  5. RosieWorships

    Wrecked Up

    I'm on the run from you again, even though in the end we both know you'll find me. You hate it when I leave, hate coming home to find my bags packed and an empty house. But I can’t stop. I’ll never stop. Maybe one day you'll quit coming after me, just forget about me and finally let me go-- But today is not that day. And quitting is not in your nature. My stomach churns as you stand with a scowl just outside the door. It's been battered in, partially destroyed and nearly hanging off the top hinges. Fists clenched by your sides, I watch as your massive chest heaves with every shallow breath. I’ve never noticed before how you needed to turn slightly in order to move your shoulders past the frame. You just barely cleared the top as well. Another four more inches or so and you would have needed to duck. As your eyes lock onto mine, I immediately begin to feel like your prey. Though everything in my heart screams for me to run, my brain knows better, knows to stay still. A low, beastlike snarl suddenly tears from your lips, and despite the sheer size and power in your body, I know you’re also built for speed. “Damon--" My head is swimming as I stagger slightly, but this only seems to anger you more. I can sense your disappointment in me, knowing I've had a little too much to drink. The air grows impossibly thick as the hair on your forearms seems to stand on end. I almost think my mind is playing tricks on me, until the top buttons on your blue dress shirt suddenly shoot across the room. You're furious, muscles pumped and primed, coiled in anticipation with what I might do. “How many times do I need to tell you, baby girl? You can run, but you can't hide.” Your voice is deeper than normal, but it always seems to take on that edge right after one of your fights. It causes a shiver to shoot up my spine. Even as I watch you angrily stalk forward. "Not here," I beg. "Please, not in front of everyone." As my eyes dart towards the back door, I can feel you move close. "Damon," I warn, gulping as you stare down at me from your towering height. A cocky grin spreads across your face as your eyes roam my body, clouded over with lust. You step towards me as I step back, but the glint in your eye screams that you enjoy a good chase. I've seen that look before, its the same one you get in the ring right before you annihilate your opponent. "You know running from me will only make it worse," you growl. You start to make your way around the table, but I counter your movements, doing the exact opposite of everything you do. I finally find myself right where I want to be but you snarl in response and my eyes grow wide. The room fills with gasps as you easily flip over the solid, oak table between us. "You better get him to chill the fuck out," a friend hisses in my ear. I can't help but wonder when the woman had got up from her seat. "Damon--" I try again. But I know talking to you is pointless after a big match. The beast inside you demands control-- it feeds off of dominance as adrenaline and power flow through your veins. I shiver slightly as you continue to study me, watching my every move with calculated precision. In the blink of an eye, I suddenly find myself unceremoniously tossed over your shoulder. I scream for you to put me down, and when that doesn’t work I switch to calling you every name in the book. You’re like the Terminator though, as you continue on your way through the tiny, brick house. I even knee you once in the chest, but all that earns me is a chuckle and a sharp slap on the ass. "Don't break any more of my shit!" My friend yells as you kick open the back door. I can hear some of my other friends voice their concerns but I know nobody will dare to get in your way. "Are you sure she'll be ok?" Someone else asks. The question is met with a sarcastic assurance. "Did you see all the yummy muscles on that man? I'm sure she'll be just fine," another giggles. It isn’t until you storm out the back door, that you finally let me down on my own two feet. ‘Own’ seemed to be a relative word here though. You may have set me down for the time being, but your arms never once loosen from around me. And with that, I don’t spare another second. My hand reels back before slapping you hard across the face. “What the hell, Damon,” I screech. “You can't just come in here like that and think--" "Baby, I'm sorry." I watch you sigh before running both hands across the top of your close cropped hair. "But can you at least just tell me what it is that I’ve done?" I snort looking back up at you as the same fight that we’ve had for the past five years comes full circle again. "You know exactly what.” I narrow my eyes, the tone in my voice sharp with irritation. “I mean geezus Damon, you practically kill people for a living." My hands run up and down along my arms as the cool Chicago winds whip all around us. "I saw you land that KO tonight. They’re calling it another career ender. But congratulations!” I clap my hands sarcastically. “You’re still the undefeated champ.” “And what exactly would you like for me do?” Your voice raises incredulously. “Lose?” With a shake of my head, I spin away from you. If I don't, I know my eyes will betray me. My body most definitely too. "I just-- I don't know anymore, D," I mutter. My arms hug my chest as the cold begins to seep into my bones. Of course I don’t want you to lose, but fuck. The guy you destoryed tonight was just a twenty year old kid. At six-foot-two and two hundred and sixty-four pounds, I know you’re at the top of the heavyweight division, and strong as a fucking bull. Your thirty-two undefeated wins are impressive, but how long until someone steps into the ring stronger, faster, and younger than you. You move up behind me then and I immediately feel your warmth. Your big, bulky arms encircle me again, but this time I don't have it in me to pull away. "I know I'm not perfect," you begin. "And I promise I'll probably make over a billion more mistakes." I can't help but smile as my head leans back to rest against one of your massive pecs. "I’ve been thinking about this for a while now,” you begin, pausing for a moment as your arms tighten around me. "And if it means that much to you, I’ll retire at the end of the year." My head jerks to the side but your arms keep me from turning around. “Are you serious?” I ask. I can feel your strong fingers dig into my hips, spinning me around to face you as you nod. Even in the dark of night, I can see that your pupils are entirely blown. "Damn, baby. I need you so bad.” As you take a step back, I notice how your muscles seem to ripple under the moonlight. "So what's the problem?" I ask. "You're drunk--" "I'm not that drunk," I argue. But as your eyes focus on me, seemingly weighing your options, I know you won't touch me again. At least, not without a little bit of coaxing-- "I swear to god, Damon Alexander. If you don't get your ass over here and take advantage of me right this second, I will go to the nearest bar and have my way with the first man I lay eyes on--" With a roar that shakes me to my core you immediately move in front of me. Your large hands grip my thighs as you lock my legs around your narrow waist. "Don't you ever leave me again," you rasp. Your mouth leaves a sloppy trail of kisses across my collarbone while your large hands completely cover my ass. I can only moan in response as you press yourself against me. If it wasn't for the fact that your strong hands were keeping me immobile, I know I would have ground myself against you. "Promise me you’ll stop running." You groan, giving me exactly what I want as you move your hips against my core. I hiss slightly as you suddenly slam me up against the siding. After your first couple of fights, I had quickly learned to be prepared. As you came down from the rage of the adrenaline you were always so primal, so rough and raw-- it was just lucky for you that I fucking loved it. "I'm gonna make you scream my name so loud," you growl. Your breathing is so ragged it causes moisture to pool between my thighs. “People all the way up in Canada will know who you belong to,” you warn. As I feel your thumbs hook around the waistband of my panties, I know what’s coming. There’s a sharp sting against my legs and without even looking down I know you’ve shred my g-string. I might have been mad about it too, if I could focus on anything but how much I needed you right now. As far as I was concerned, the faster you could soothe that growing ache in my belly, the better. "Wet for me all ready," you goan. As you look me in the eye, I nod my head with a whimper. Excitement suddenly shoots through me as you balance me in a single hand. Your unrivaled strength, even as you’re working your pants down furiously over your muscled thighs, is such a turn on. As your fat cock springs free, I moan as I feel it pulsing between us. Sometimes I still can't believe that you, this huge beast of a man is all mine. All. Ten. Fucking. Inches. I bite down to keep from screaming, my vision blurring as you pierce me in a single thrust. It’s slightly painful at first, your engorged, rampant dick bottoming out as it fills me to the hilt. Slowly-- steadily-- relentlessly and with an insane amount of power, I can feel you pull your entire length out of me before ramming home again. Without a doubt you're making sure I'm forever wrecked for another man. At some point the pain gives way to pleasure and I try to enjoy the ride as I pull you closer. I want to feel every one of your hulking muscles pressed against me. I had never felt more safe in my life until I had met you. "Oh god," you hear me breathe as the tension builds deep in my core. I’m so fucking close, you can feel my walls starting to clamp around you. "Damn, baby. You feel so fucking good," you growl before suddenly quickening your pace. You begin pounding me faster, and then harder-- the scent of your musk fills my nose. "Cum for me," you order. Your voice is harsh as you push the words between clenched teeth. Immediately my body begins to obey and waves of pleasure slowly overtake me. Not too long after I can feel you lengthen inside. Your large hands hold me up by the ass, squeezing and yanking me down in sync with your pounding. Any second now I know you’ll explode. As if on cue-- "Oh god. Yes. Oh fuck!" You chant. As a second orgasm crashes into me, I toss my head back and as predicted I come screaming your name. My body convulses around you, shaking and tensing as euphoria floods my senses. A moment later you follow and with a final grunt you empty your seed inside me.
  6. dominantmusclemaster

    Dominant Muscle Master

    Edit - Just a warning that this story contains violence, snuff and gore. You have been warned The man was standing with his girlfriend so he clearly wasn’t gay, but it made little difference to me. I wanted him so I would have him and neither his girlfriend nor his sexuality would offer any impediment. I waited till he looked my way once again and then I caught him in my gaze, my beautiful brown eyes boring into his, holding him captive. I walked towards him, keeping my eyes focused on his as I did. “Hi”, I said holding out my hand, “I’m Michael”. I took a deep breath, pushing out my rock hard pecs and tightening my washboard abs, the sight of my perfectly sculpted, muscular body caused him to stammer as he reached for my outstretched hand. “H…hi”, he said, I’m Frank”. I gripped his hand tightly causing him to wince in discomfort. I was using only a fraction of my power and he could tell immediately that my strength was so much greater than his own, as he registered my subtle display of dominance. I turned to the woman next to him and flashed her a dazzling smile, watching as she tried to fight back the lustful feelings my remarkable body was engendering within her. “Are you his girlfriend?” I asked bluntly, although it was clear that they were a couple. She hesitated, taking in the dense musculature of my torso before lowering her gaze to the large, obvious bulge in the tiny trunks I was wearing. If the poor sap hadn’t been standing right next to her she would have denied it, hoping that her availability would give her more of a chance with me, but she eventually nodded her head in acknowledgement. “Yes”, she whispered her voice full of regret. “Not any more”, I said, and her face lit up only to turn to shock as I finished. “Frank’s my girlfriend now”. I turned back, an evil grin on my face. “Isn’t that right little man.” “B..but”, he stammered, “I…I’m not gay”, “You’re dick’s been rock hard since I walked through that door”, I growled, “so don’t give me that shit. You want me more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your miserable little life, don’t you. Look at me, look at my muscles, feel my power, my strength. I’m everything you’ve ever dreamed of being. You want to kneel at my feet and worship me with every fibre of your being, don’t you?” It was too much for the man, for any man, my presence was simply to strong, my body to incredible, my dominance to absolute. He was inferior to me in every way and he knew it. He nodded his head. “Yes”, he said eventually, no longer able to resist the inevitable. “Then drop to your knees and worship me”, I said. Without another word he fell to his knees, he reached out and began to rub his hands over the vast expanse of my muscle packed thighs. “My God”, he gasped “you’re muscles are like steel” “Kiss them weakling”, worship my body with your lips, your tongue. His ministrations soon had my dick hardening, and it began to push obscenely against my trunks as it grew. “Remove my trunks”, I commanded and he immediately began to peel them off me, freeing my spectacular cock and balls. His girlfriend almost fainted as she watched my dick expand to its full length of sixteen inches. Frank could only stare in awe. He would never have believed that any man’s dick could be so long, so wide, so incredibly hard. He looked down at his own erect dick tenting the front of his shorts, harder than it had ever been and oozing precum, yet its eight inches was insignificant next to my supreme appendage. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him forward, forcing my dick into his mouth. “Suck it”, I commanded, and again he obeyed instantly, cowed into subservience by his now obvious inferiority. The girl watched her straight boyfriend kneel at my feet and suck hungrily on my monster shaft with a mixture of disgust and arousal. She was a beautiful woman with an impressive body and was used to being the centre of male attention, but now she was entirely superfluous. I turned to her, a look of contempt on my face. “You can go now”, I sneered, “I have no use for you”. Without another word I turned back to my new slave. I had already forgotten her and she knew it. Tears welled in her eyes from the pain of my rejection and the betrayal of her boyfriend. She had met me only moments ago, but my body was so perfect my eroticism so all-consuming that I knew my rejection hurt her far more than the loss of her boyfriend. “Frank”, she whimpered, but he completely ignored her. He was in a sexual stupor, completely unaware of anything but my absolute perfection. She called his name one more time before realising that he was lost to her and then she fled. Franks hands roamed up and down my thighs and over my hard muscular ass. His fingers slipped into the crack as he cupped my buttocks and with a cruel sneer I flexed my glutes trapping them in place. He attempted to pull them free but the strength of my glutes was more than a match for his arms. I continued to squeeze, crushing the digits between the hard slabs of my sculpted ass cheeks. His eyes widened in pain as he felt the bones of his fingers grind together but he was unable to scream as my cock effectively gagged him. I increased my thrusting, enjoying his discomfort as I raped his mouth and moments later I exploded in a powerful orgasm, pumping streams of thick hot cum down his throat. He began to gag and I released the vice like grip on his fingers and pushed him away, covering his face with juice from my still pumping cock as he fell to the ground coughing and spluttering. The taste and scent of my cum drove his lust to previously unimagined levels and i watched as his cock twitched involuntary as he released his own load without any physical stimulation. "Is that it", i sneered, "Is that all the sperm your pathetic balls can generate?" Frank had never had such a powerful orgasm, and by the standards of any other man it would have been an impressive amount, but then I'm not any other man. He looked at the wet stain on his shorts and realised that it was a miniscule quantity compared to my prodigious release. I stood over his prone body, droplets of cum dripping onto his stomach from my now limp cock. I raised my arms and flexed in a double bicep pose, causing him to groan in ecstasy as he watched my biceps expand and harden into two balls of unimaginable strength. I began to flex my legs, causing the muscles to swell and recede in a symphony of power. Within seconds my muscle display brought his dick back to life and i reached down and tore his shorts from him as if they were no more substantial than wet tissue paper. I resumed my display, flexing my legs, my abs, my chest, forcing him deeper under my spell with the hypnotic demonstration of my power and control. He lay beneath me moaning softly, so completely in my thrall that he was unable to speak. “From now on you will address me as Master, do you understand?” He nodded at my command his eyes were glazed and a thin trail of drool ran down his chin. "Hey, what the hell's going on here", a voice called out behind me. I continued the erosion of Frank’s free will with my muscle display; my only response was to flex my glutes and back, giving the interloper behind me their own muscle show. The voice walked towards me, "I said what's goi....". As soon as he drew level with me i reached out with one hand and grabbed him by the throat, lifting his entire body off the ground with ease. I turned and locked eyes with the suicidal non entity that had dared to disturb me. It was the receptionist, a skinny teenager that had just recently started the late shift. His six foot, hundred and thirty pound frame looked truly pitiful next to my own, as he hung suspended in mid-air gasping for breath. "You dare to interrupt me, you puny worm", i hissed, tightening my grip on his throat, completing blocking his airway. Within seconds his eyes rolled back, his body went limp and i let him fall to the ground. "Oh shit", Frank said, finally finding his voice. "Is he dead?" "Not yet", i grinned. "Take his clothes off, while i make sure no-one else dares to disturb me". Frank looked as if he was about to question me, until i narrowed my eyes at him. He immediately crawled over to the unconscious body and began to unfasten the boys belt, his dissent completely crushed by my gaze. I walked through the reception and locked the door, it was unlikely anyone would come in now but i wanted to make sure. When i got back Frank had stripped the boy and he was beginning to come round. I stood before him, hands on my hips, my strong, muscular body radiating power and authority. Slowly he stood up and looked at me, trembling in fear. "Please", he begged "Please don't hurt me". He was clearly terrified but my mere presence controlled his body more than his feeble mind could, and i smiled as his cock rose in obeisance to me. "Is that the best you can do?" i asked staring at his now rock hard cock which was barely six inches. "I...I'm sorry", he stammered, "this is as big and as hard as it's ever been". "And yet even limp my shaft dwarfs your pitiful erection", i said, walking towards him and grabbing him under the arms. I lifted him into the air and pinned him against the wall, stepping forward so that he was held in place by my vastly superior body. Anyone standing behind me wouldn't have even known that i held another person pinned to the wall as he was completely eclipsed by my muscular bulk. I took a breath, expanding my pecs and forcing them into his own inferior chest. I could feel his ribs bending against my abs and his sternum make a creaking noise as the thick slabs of my chest muscles crushed against it. I gave the slightest flex of my pecs and he groaned in pain as the pressure increased. No words were needed, he knew i could kill him in the most brutal way with nothing more than the slightest twitch of my mighty pecs. "Please", he whimpered fearfully, although his dick was still rock hard against my abs. I looked down at him my gaze boring through his very soul. I saw his fear and arousal, the only two emotions left to him as i dominated his mind, his spirit bending to my implacable will as easily as his body had bent to my unyielding muscles. I lowered my head and kissed him, my full, pouting lips engulfing his own. I felt his body relax as his fear yielded to his arousal and within moments i felt him tremble as he came all over my stomach. I broke off the kiss and looked at him. The look in his eyes was of absolute adoration. "Did you enjoy that?" i asked softly. He could only nod, to spent from the immense pleasure of the orgasm to speak. "Good", i growled, because now it's my turn. I stepped back and turned him round so that he now faced the wall, handling him as easily as a normal man would handle a doll. I turned to Frank who was watching in an almost trance like state. "Kneel behind me and worship my legs and ass with your lips", i commanded, “i expect to feel them on every inch of skin". I stepped forward again, once more trapping the teenager against the wall. "Please don't" he pleaded, as he felt the tip of my erection against his ass, but it was time to take my pleasure now, so i ignored his pleas and began to push my massive shaft into him. He screamed in pain as i forced my way inside him, slowly stretching his virgin ass to breaking point and then beyond. I clamped a hand around his mouth to stifle his screams, all the better to hear Franks groans of pleasure as he licked and kissed his way up my bulging, muscular calves to my oak like thighs. I noticed that he kept his fingers away from my ass crack, after the last time, but he was diligently covering every inch of my muscle packed legs and glutes with his tongue. I began to pump harder, each thrust driving my immense cock slightly further into the violated teenager’s ass. I also felt a warm spray against the back of my thighs as Frank lost control, and started to cum. Ironically the more damage i did to the teenager the more the blood lubricated the passage, easing his pain a little. The slight reprieve didn't last long of course. A few savage thrusts and i felt his ribs begin to snap as his lower body was crushed against the wall. A few more and my cock was buried deep inside him, destroying everything in its path, his frail body unable to withstand the its sheer size and power. I felt a familiar churning in my balls as my nut sac tightened, and i flexed my pecs, crushing the boy against the wall so tightly that his entire sternum shattered, his body flattening to a fraction of its thickness between the hard concrete wall and the even harder muscles of my body. At that moment i gave a roar of pleasure as i emptied my seed into the now mutilated corpse, my thick creamy sperm mingling with the blood and gore that leaked from his body. I felt another hot spray, over my ass this time as Frank once again succumbed to my immense sexuality, and i was impressed with his ability to keep cuming so often. "Enough", i said to Frank, stepping back from the wall and peeling the remains of the boy from my dick, dropping the shattered almost unrecognisable ruins to the ground. "Go find a mop and bucket, and clean this place up", i ordered, "while i dispose of this". I found a large canvas bag, which was just a little too short to fit the body in, but i soon remedied that by folding him in half, snapping his spine as easily as a dry twig. I also grabbed a couple of fifty pound plates and dropped them into the bag. "Do you have a car here?" i asked Frank when he returned with a mop and bucket. "Yes, it's parked right outside". "Give me the keys", i commanded. He picked up the shorts I had torn apart earlier, found the keys and handed them to me. I hefted the large bag onto my shoulder barely noticing the weight and went out to the car. I noticed there were no other cars parked nearby which meant that the receptionist didn't have one which was good. I dumped the bag in the boot of Frank’s car and headed back inside. It was only then that i realised i had gone out completely naked, covered in blood and cum, luckily no-one had been around. While Frank cleaned up the mess I had made in the gym I took a long hot shower, cleaning the blood and cum from my spectacular body. Once finished a pulled on a pair of black leggings that were stretched so tightly over my bulging musculature that they were practically see through. I often wear leggings in public, I love the way the skin tight material clings to my swollen muscles, hiding nothing of their power and beauty. I usually wear a pair of trunks under them to cover my manhood as the leggings are stretched to transparency, but it was late and I didn’t expect anybody to be around, so I didn’t bother. I covered my upper body with a white compression shirt, my abs, pecs and nipples clearly displayed through the material. I admired myself in the mirror for a few moments, flexing various muscles, threatening to rip my outfit apart with their size. I admired my long thick cock, covered by the leggings, but clearly visible through the material, and then headed back to the gym. Frank had finished cleaning up the mess and had returned the mop and bucket wherever he had found them. I had ordered him to get dressed once he finished and now he stood awaiting my return in a t-shirt and jeans. “Let’s go” I commanded, smirking as I saw his dick press against the material of his jeans at the sight of me. I locked the door of the gym as we left with a set off keys I had found on the reception desk and climbed into the passenger seat of Frank’s car. “Where are we going master?” he asked as he started the car. “The docks”, I said, “just drive, I will direct you”. Ten minutes later we parked outside the gate of the deep-water dock. The gate was secured with a thick chain and a large padlock, but it wasn’t thick enough to prevent my entry, or even test my muscles. “Wait here”, I said getting out of the car and walking to the gate. I grabbed the chain with both hands and began to pull, my biceps bulged, and there was a few moments of resistance before the steel links succumbed to my strength and snapped apart. I dropped the heavy chain to the ground and pushed open the gates, waving Frank through. I climbed back into the car and we drove to the edge of the dock, where I proceeded to remove the bag from the boot and drop it into the deep water. The weights I had added ensured that the bag and its contents immediately sunk to the bottom. I climbed back into the car and Frank had just turned around about to head back through the gates when a police car came driving in. “Shit”, I thought as they flashed us down. They had obviously seen the opened gate on their way past and decided to investigate. I briefly toyed with the idea of killing them; even armed they wouldn’t stand a chance against me, but I knew they would have already radioed back to the station with the car details and license plate. I would have to take an alternative approach, but it would be no less enjoyable. “Stay here”, I commanded Frank and quickly climbed out of the car. I flexed my upper body to the max as I walked towards their now stationary vehicle. My biceps shredded the already overstretched sleeves, my shoulders split through the top of the compression shirt, as rips appeared down the sides and front from my rapidly spreading lats and expanding pecs. The shirt was hanging in tatters from my spectacularly pumped upper body and I simply tore the remains of it from me. The two cops got out of their car and approached me warily, hands on the butt of their pistols. “What’s up officers?” I asked innocently, watching their eyes rove all over my body, trying to take in its absolute perfection. “Jesus Christ”, the older of the two men exclaimed, “you’re fucking huge. Jesus Jack, he’s bigger than you”, he said to his partner, who was obviously no stranger to the gym. “What are you doing here?” the buff cop asked. “I had some rubbish to dump, thought it would be easiest just to dump it in the dock. I know it’s illegal but just saves me the hassle of driving all the way to the dump”. I fixed my gaze on the older cop as I spoke, subtly flexing the muscles in my legs. I could sense he was the weaker of the two, mentally as well as physically. I noticed his eyes glaze over as he stared transfixed at the hypnotic display of pulsing muscle before him. “You cut the chain?” the other cop continued. “Yea, sorry about that”, I replied. “Must have been some heavy duty cutters you used”. “I didn’t use cutters”, I replied. He looked at me quizzically and I raised my arms into a double bicep pose. “I used these”, I continued. “No way” he said, gulping audibly, “that’s not possible”. “Look at me” I smiled, flexing harder, turning my body into a wall of living steel. “Look at my muscles, their size, their hardness. Do you think there is anything my body cannot do?” “I…I..”, he stammered, barely able to think in the face of such extreme strength and power, knowing that no matter how many hours he spent in the gym he could never come close to my size, my density. I turned back to the older cop, who was visibly trembling with desire. “Go to your car and radio the station back. Tell them you have checked me out and everything’s fine, nothing to report.” Without a word the cop turned back to his car to carry out my commands. The bigger cop may not have been as deeply under my spell as his partner, but he was too far gone to question the fact that I was now the one giving orders. I stepped towards the other cop and flexed my bicep in his face. “Feel it”, I ordered. He wrapped his fingers around the rock hard ball of muscle and began to squeeze. I could tell he was putting everything he had into it in an attempt to reclaim some of his masculinity, but he couldn’t make the slightest dent. “My God”, he gasped, “it’s like warm steel”. “Flex”, I commanded him. His body responded before his brain had even registered the command and he raised his arm and flexed it in front of me. I wrapped my fingers around the hard mound and began to squeeze. Almost immediately he gasped in pain as my strong fingers effortlessly overpowered his muscle, crushing into it with childish ease. “Please stop”, he gasped, “Please, you’re hurting me”. “Do I look like I am even trying?” I asked him. “No”, he cried out,” aahh….please…..no more”. “Do you understand just how inferior your body is to mine I asked”. “Yes”, he gasped, “you’re so strong, so unimaginably strong”. I released the man’s arm and turned to his partner who had just come back. “Well?” I asked. “It’s done”, he replied, “I told them we had sent you on your way and we were resuming our patrol”. “Good”, I responded, “now strip”. Both men immediately began to remove their clothes and in less than a minute they were standing naked before me, their dicks erect. “Kneel”, I commanded. Again both men obeyed me without hesitation dropping to their knees before me. My domination of their puny bodies and feeble minds was turning me on and my dick began to stiffen. I placed my hands on my hips and flared my lats, causing both men to moan with desire as they bathed in the glow of my magnificence. With my hands holding the waist band of my leggings in place, my dick began to press insistently against the black material until it simply tore through it with a loud ripping. The sight of my huge, powerful dick bursting through its nylon prison was all it took to crush the any last vestige of the men’s free will. Unable to control himself the smaller of the two reached out and began to stroke my calves, gasping with pleasure as he felt the hard nylon sheathed muscle beneath his fingers. “Did I give you permission to touch me weakling” I roared. The anger in my voice caused him to instantly pull his hand away, but my reflexes were so much faster. I took hold of his wrist and squeezed it painfully. “Aarrgg”, he cried out in pain “Please, i…I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself, you…you’re just so strong, so powerful, so…so irresistible. “You need to learn your place little man”, I said, “you are nothing in my presence, do you understand?” “Yes”, he groaned. I turned to his partner, savouring the fear in his eyes, and raised an eyebrow questioningly. He nodded his head, confirming that he knew his place. “I am your Master”, I continued, “and you exist only to serve me, you have no will but mine, no desires but mine. You are nothing more than an extension of my consciousness, and as such you are mine to do with as I please. Do you understand your place now?” Both men nodded, “Yes Master”, they said in unison. My huge, beautiful cock was bobbing inches from their faces, the head glistening with precum, and both men stared at it as though in a trance. “Have you ever seen such a large, powerful cock before?” I asked them. The older of the two could only shake his head, unable to speak as my presence overwhelmed his puny mind. “No”, his partner whispered, “it’s incredible”. “You want to worship it don’t you?” I asked. “To pay homage to my incomparable masculinity with your lips. You want to taste my seed, my divine nectar, isn’t that right?” Both men again nodded their assent, groaning in pleasure at the thought of being given such an honour. I released the older cops wrist and began to stroke my member, looking down at the two men. “But I do not deem you worthy of such an honour”, I sneered. I watched impassively as whatever remained of their spirits shattered as I refused them the only thing they now desired. “Please”, the younger of the two men begged, while his partner groaned in despair. “You dare to question me?” I asked threateningly. “No Master”, he whimpered. I was still stroking myself and I could feel my orgasm build. “Despite your insolence and inferiority I will allow you to taste of my magnificence”, I said as I began to cum, spurting thick gobs of creamy sperm over the two men, coating their faces with my virulent seed. The two thralls unconsciously began to lick their lips, tasting my seed, the smell and taste of my powerful ejaculate causing them to respond in kind, coating my lower legs with their own inferior release. I looked down at the creamy goo that now covered my magnificent calves with disdain. “Lick me clean”, I commanded, and both men immediately leant forward and began lapping at my calves, their spent dicks hardening again as the feel of my powerful muscles against their lips enflamed their arousal. I stood before these insignificant whelps like the dominant God I was for a few moments as they greedily swallowed their own cum. “Enough”, I commanded, once they had cleaned off their mess and they immediately pulled away, their bodies instantly responding to my command. They looked up at me, fear, desire, and adoration in their eyes. They would do whatever I asked of them, without question or hesitation. They belonged to me now, their devotion to their Master absolute. “I am finished with you now”, I said, “You may resume your work”. With that I walked back to the car and climbed in. “Let’s go”, I said and Frank immediately drove off leaving the two policemen still kneeling on the ground, covered in my cum. Free from my presence the two men would begin to regain control of their senses. They would get dressed and resume their patrol, but they would never mention what had just happened to anyone. They wouldn’t even discuss it between themselves, shame and confusion over what had happened would make sure of that. Although a degree of self-control would return to them, their lives would be irrevocably altered. Sexual arousal would be impossible unless they were thinking of me, but they would think of me often. I would haunt their dreams, they would wake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat their pathetic dicks twitching as they involuntary orgasmed. Forced to live with the knowledge of just how truly inferior they were they would grow increasingly depressed, unable to take pleasure from anyone or anything, the memory of tonight the only thing that would bring them any respite from their despair. Eventually the thought of living like this, in misery and without my presence to console them would prove too much and they would take their own lives. If they were particularly strong willed their will to live might prevail but they would be a shadow of their former selves, barely capable of functioning as a useful member of society, rendered clinically insane. I gave Frank directions and ten minutes later we pulled up outside my house, on the outskirts of the city. “Take out your dick”, I ordered. Frank immediately complied, and pulled out his throbbing erection, which was dripping with precum. I turned his head so that he was facing me and leant forward. “You have done well tonight little man”. Before he could respond I pressed my lips to his, I felt his body immediately relax as he surrendered to my kiss. For several minutes I kissed him, expertly probing his mouth with my tongue. After thirty seconds I felt his body tense as he ejaculated all over steering wheel, but the overwhelming eroticism of my kiss kept him hard and he came two more times before I released his lips. “Will I see you again Master?” he asked breathlessly, his eyes pleading with me to say yes. “If I wish it”, I replied, “Now go home and dream of me slave”. “Yes Master”, he said as I climbed out of the car. By [email protected]
  7. godofjurai

    Winner Takes All

    This is the first BRAND NEW STORY I have written in a while, but this is an idea I have had for YEARS just never really decided to write it until recently when I had a couple yahoo buddies insist that this kind of needed to be told. It is not really that long. I'm dipping my feet in the shallow end before I dive head first into the deep side, but the fun I had writing this, it probably won't be that long until then. Please leave comments, as I LIVE for them! Likes are cool, but the comments are what makes me feel a bit better on how well the story is received. Winner Takes All The two of us knew what we were about to do. Both of us had been rivals now for the past 3 years that we started this university and were placed into the same damn dorm room. But today was the day that it was all going to change. Me and my roommate were both on the college wrestling team, both juniors, and about to head into our senior year together. I was 6’4” 290lbs with a low 5% body fat and a nice and plump 9 inch cock when fully erect. He was 5’8” and 275lbs of shredded beef. We were tired of always competing for the spot of Captain, and since the former Captain just graduated it was up to one of us to take the reigning spot of the team. That’s when I found this book that dealt with the occult that said there was a way that could alter our fates permanently. Basically a transfer of power. The one rule was we both needed to know what we were getting into, so I brought it up to him one night and we both agreed that one of us was definitely going to be captain and the only way for our rivalry to stop was to end this charade for good by draining the other one completely. So here we are, I set up this table in the center of the room at an undisclosed part of campus that no one would be entering into. I drew the pentagram across the entire table and had candles lit up around the room like the book stated must be done. He entered the room right on time, after everything was set up. We both pulled out a chair from the table, sat down and looked each other straight in the eyes. We knew once we started there was no going back from this ever. One of us would have all of our dreams fulfilled, and the other, well we really don’t know what will happen to the other person yet. This ritual asked that in order for this occult spell to work, we must challenge one another on top of the pentagram. Before we arrived at this moment, the only real way to challenge each other wasn’t with a game of Monopoly or Poker, but a true show of strength – We were about to both be engaged in the ultimate match of Arm-Wrestling. As the book stated, the winner would get everything. Both of us placed our right elbows on the table and onto the red chalk circle. Our biceps tensed, eyes still locked as we both clasped our hands tightly. I could feel his strength and he could feel mine. We both had the incantation memorized and we knew it was time. We both recited it as all of the lit candles flames sprang off of the candles and merged into a big ball of light above us. It begins now… Both of our arms tense as we push against each other. The veins in our forearms and biceps bursting from our skin as they engorge with blood, fueling us with the power to try and take the other man down. I can see the beads of sweat slowly begin to form on his brow and slide down his face, as he sees just how serious I am. I am going to win this. I begin to push as his arm slowly begins to go down. He is struggling, still managing to hold his own, but he won’t be able to last. I am the bigger man here. Taller, more muscle, more strength. I smirk as his arm slowly starts to descend lower and lower as it closes in on the table’s surface. He does not give in however, I can see the determination in his eyes, as he uses all his might to slowly push back. I give in a little to this game just to give him a tiny bit of hope that he has a chance. He gives me a cocky grin. I show nothing, as our hands slowly start to rise back up to almost the starting position. I show him a faux sign of concern, as my arm starts to bend in his favor, until it just stays locked in ta 30 degree angle off of the table. I show my true face now as I begin to push back, this time fear overtakes him as he begins to panic. My arm pushing him back fast. There is nothing he can do as our arm lock is now at the ready position once again and slowly his arm is descending in my favor. He tries to fight back, but he now knows it’s going to be me. I am the team captain! Nothing is going to stop me from- I feel pain erupt from by balls. I was sitting with my ass on the edge of the seat anticipating the win when his steel toe boot came in direct contact with my crotch. I falter in pain and I watch as he overpowers me. Looking at him all I see is this sinister grin as our arms reach center point before I feel my hand slam down onto the table surface. I’m shocked…scared…there is absolutely nothing I can do now. I try to pull away to end this but my hand is glued to his. I feel this electric current flowing through our touch and radiating into my body. I feel sick, weak. My body feels like it’s about to throw up. When I see it start to happen. I watch as all my muscles flex to their most pumped state. Starting with my meaty forearm, the muscle begins to slide down into my hand through my fingers and melds with him, adding to his already solid build. I gulp realizing what it now means about one of us will gain everything. Staring at the massive ball and veins wrapping around my bicep, I watch as the huge lump begins its slow journey through my tiny forearm, through my hands and fingers and into his arm sliding up where it eventually stays at its new comfortable spot on his already huge biceps. Fuck he’s going to get huge. I try pulling away again, the chair I am sitting on falling over as I crash onto the floor, him following and landing on top of me. I am not sure if it’s the realization and fear from me or if it is him now knowing what is happening to himself and what he will eventually become, but the pull from him was slowly beginning to increase. I watched as my traps shrank down to average shoulders and my pecs bunched up and shrank to a normal chest as all the muscle from my upper body began traveling through my arm and reassembling itself on to him. His chest swelling larger than any heavyweight bodybuilder I’ve ever seen and damn those traps, do huge and kept rising up and up like dough being baked in an oven as they kept expanding and filling with pure rock hard muscle. As this was happening, I didn’t take notice to my other arm and abs, which had already lost all of its size his solid 6 pack was expanding to a very hard and defined 8 pack. It was so damn cut you could probably grate cheese on his washboard. Next came the lower section of my body. My thighs, and calves all but pushed their way up my upper body. I looked ridiculous as all the mass went through my chest cavity giving me a look that I may have pecs again, just to see them just as quickly vanish and drop into him like water filling a jug of water. His Lower body was amazing! Calves so huge like two footballs stuffed into each leg side by side with diamond hardness. Thighs that could easily crush marble with. You could tell that neither one of us skipped leg day, just from how massive he was becoming. As all the muscle had finally left my body, his clothes stretched to their utmost limit. I tried to pull away but we were still locked. That’s when I felt it and I began to panic. “No, No, No!” my 9 inch cock began to slowly get sucked in shrinking smaller and smaller, as I felt it being pulled out of me, but I could not see this actually leave my body, that is until I saw the growing bulge in his shorts, elongating and beginning to get hard. He began to laugh, his voice so deep it caused the walls and floor to tremble around us. The transfer was over. I got up realizing how small everything looked around me. How is that possible? It was then that I noticed he also took my height. This titan of a man began to stand and he went up, and up, and up till I was barely at his navel. His clothes so tight they began to tear and in one mighty flex they all shredded to rags and fluttered to the floor around his body. His mighty alpha body looming above me, I was totally overshadowed by his dominant size, power, and gigantic manhood. It was too much for me as I knew what was going to happen next with that erect column of flesh that I just passed out…
  8. Emil

    Nadia, Alpha Teen Female

    It was a sunny warm late afternoon in August. James Ramsbottom found himself standing in the parking lot belonging to Westwood Fitness in San Delgado, California. He wore clothing fit for a gym; a bright teal T-shirt, blue shorts, tube socks and bright white Nike sneakers. Looking at himself in a reflection was always a bit like love at first sight. Catching himself reflected upon a window of a Ford Bronco he ran a hand through his wavy blonde locks making certain it was perfect. 'A-prime beefcake,' he thought to himself. James was on the prowl. Today could've spent the afternoon lounging at his favorite sport club named Killearny but he was in search of someone he had heard so much about from friends. What he had heard not only peaked his curiosity but his other head down below as well. This someone was a girl, only 18 as it turned out, and was quite a sight to behold. One friend had mentioned that she was a real freak. Whether she was in the sheets or not he forgot to ask. This girl was presumably working out inside this very gym. James actual reasons for his visit had to do with adding this supposed dynamo to his stable of young women who had already fallen for his charm, good looks, libido, and prodigious sexual organ that swung under his sweatpants. Do it before Chad, Chuck, Brandon, or any other member of his circle tagged her. 'In and out bag and tag,' he thought to himself. He mused that getting women into bed was becoming easier nearly to a point of it ceasing to be a challenge. The girl in the gym would be no different after all she was only 18. If she wanted to see a freak he'd show his power wand between his legs. Mr. Ramsbottom's circle of fellow alpha male friends nicknamed themselves the Aqua Velvas a bit tongue in cheek to be sure. They dressed and walked to impress the fairer sex. They all had the swagger, the euro sports cars, the Aspen Winter condos that screamed wealth even if it came from Mommy and Daddy. It worked. Women fell for their charm. You could spot an Aqua Velva on the streets or in a club by what and who they wore. A virtual litany of Italian fashion lined the closets of it's members. Not only Italian clothing but Polo, Izod, Jordache, Guess, Ralph Lauren, and Burberry to name a few. Her name was Nadia Niculescu. Nadia lived in a fine neighborhood ten-minute drive from Westwood. She had happily married parents who were both doctors at Stanford University Hospital, and she had a younger brother named Alex. Both Alex and she were less than a week from becoming a freshman and senior respectively at San Delgado High School. According to James’ friends Nadia also had a huge breasted raven haired BFF named Sonia Savich. He looked to add Sonia to his list of conquests too. James did a quick visual sweep of the parking lot to see if he could spot either one of Nadia’s two means of daily transportation. Depending on the weather and whether or not she had to drive her little brother to school she often drove a car or rode a motorcycle. In this case she drove her car, and there it was. A black '69 Big Boss Mustang. James chuckled as he walked up to it shaking his head. A girl who drives a car like this must be 100% bad ass and a freak between the sheets. As for the car her Mustang was an extension of Nadia herself. Loud, big, brash, powerful, and full of business. He shook his head as he peered through the glass window and saw that the interior needed a cleaning. ‘Messy girl’, James thought to himself. He hated messy women. He loved discipline in his girlfriends. Neat, orderly, on time, and willing to take his orders on command. He caught his image reflected off of the glass. James let out a sigh and thought to himself, ‘No wonder the chicks go wild.’ Mighty fine indeed after all he was built and incredibly strong there was no argument there. The T-shirt he wore was stretched out, his shoulders, arms, and forearms were well developed. From top to bottom he was the perfect image of physical fitness. He checked to see that his perfectly coiffed dark hair was in place. He smiled at his male model looks and winked. James was certain that Nadia would instantly find him scorching hot. How could she not? He opened the doors to Westwood and took in the interior space which was quite spacious. The entire building broken into three large sections. The largest of which were the free weight and adjoining Nautilus rooms. There was a slightly smaller space reserved for hard impact step aerobics classes, one of which was in session. The walls were painted light gray, with neon lights accents spread about to break up the monotony of gray. The interior design allowed for a multitude of floor to ceiling mirrors. The carpeting was a slightly darker tone of warm gray. There were steel framed posters of male and female hard bodies hanging along the front lobby and rear hallway leading all the way to the locker rooms at the back of the gym. Near the locker rooms were several saunas, whirlpools and one Olympic sized indoor swimming pool. James approached the front desk in the lobby as “One Night in Bangkok” by Murray Head Music began to play through the overhead speakers. A buff guy behind the front counter wearing a name tag that read Chase looked up at James and asked, “Hi there, need any help?” “Ah, do you have a membership form?” James asked. “Yep, sure do. Here you go,” he handed James a clipboard before adding, “We can give you a day pass in the meantime. What’s your name?” “The name’s James,” he said. Chase wrote up a day pass and gave it to him. “Chase you mind if I take this form with me and fill it out later?”, James asked after all he wasn‘t here to join but to bang one of its female members. “Hey, no sweat just fill it out when you have time,” he replied as the desk phone rang. “Where did you used to work out?” Chase asked after he finished helping the caller. “Oh, ah Gold’s. You know down in Venice,” James lied. “Awesome. Yeah, I love Venice Beach, pretty rad place,” Chase said. “Say, uh is Nadia here?” he inquired. “Bennings or Nicu….Nicul…”, Chase said appearing to have some difficulty pronouncing her last name. “Uh, Niculescu.” “I can never say her last name. Yeah, she’s in the weight room. You want me to point her out or go get her?” “Nah, I’ll go and find her it’s no problem man,” James smiled heading off knowing from the descriptions given to him by his friends would suffice. As he did so James passed several full length mirrors. This time he didn't stop to admire himself as he was on the prowl for his new prey. There would be time for self-indulgence later. James crossed the threshold into the weight room. It was crowded and even from his vantage point there was a bit of difficulty picking Nadia out. The song “Shout” by Tears for Fears came on. James really hated that tune. For an instant he thought he spotted her near the other side of the huge room. Was that her? There were so many other patrons it was hard to tell. James was told she had chestnut reddish brown hair cut in a short pixie style with one side slightly longer than the other. His target had brown eyes, and was at least 5’11”. His friend's words 'She's a freak, built like a tank' sounded off in his head. He maneuvered around others as he descended into the maze of equipment racks, dumb bells, barbells, weights, sweat and grunts. He expertly maneuvered avoiding two ‘roid kings. James then looked to his right. His jaw dropped. There she was! He simply couldn’t believe my eyes. She looked stunning and incredibly powerful. 'Fuck me she is a tank' James literally had to catch his breath. It’s one thing to imagine someone from a description but to actually see them up close is entirely different. She exuded a scorching sexuality that was different than anything he'd encountered before. Nadia was performing squats with several muscle-heads hanging around her like a pack of vultures. She was doing a hell of a lot of weight from the looks of it, well over 675 lbs. Despite the incredible weight she did them with a sense of ease her motions incredibly fluid. She wore black spandex shorts and a red OP T-shirt cut off at the midriff with sleeves and collar removed. She had a red bandana wrapped around her head acting as a sweatband and wore a pair of red Reebok sneakers to top off the ensemble. From James’ vantage point Nadia had an insanely over-developed V-shaped back that tapered to a small waist. Her traps and deltoids were just massive. Shoulders that made up of segmented muscle striated in bands that reminded James of a cluster of bananas. Her legs and ass looked as if they were straining to burst out of that spandex. Nadia’s huge quads looked like they could crush coconuts and those big diamond shaped calves would make male bodybuilders green with envy. ‘Jesus I can’t believe this a chick, and a teen at that!’ James wasn't expecting Nadia to look like this. She was far beyond anything he'd ever imagined. He had seen from magazines, articles that featured a few women who had achieved some impressive muscle size and physical strength. There was the famous Mary Logan a Scottish immigrant living in Chicago who amazed audiences in the 1890s with near super human strength. With her stunning beauty and physique Mary lifted wagons, pulled teams of oxen and boxcars with a disturbing sense of ease. Then there was Madamoiselle Emelie Guingand who in 1913 was photographed hoisting a French Army 75 mm artillery piece over her. James' mind recounted the feats of Yulia Kachaturova a Soviet blonde beauty who bested the French woman by lifting a tractor over her head in 1940. Yulia's cute smile not showing a hint of strain. These women were legends and as such a legend is something that existed in the past. James never expected to some face to face with a modern day legend. Not here in San Delgado California. Yet there she was. She was just finishing a set when James looked to her reflection in the mirror as he approached her workout station. Muscle-head #1, her official spotter apparently said something to Nadia that made her smile. In fact all the other guys hanging around her were making fools of themselves trying to get her attention, lauding over her. It turned his stomach to see guys act like that. As he came closer James’ eyes and hers made contact in the mirror. The gaze lasted less than a fraction of a second yet it caused James to stop in his tracks. Those dark smoky eyes of hers appeared to bore right through him. As he walked behind her the spotter gave James a sideways look that wasn’t too friendly. James wasn’t moved by his gaze. ‘Know your place limp dick.’ He felt a bit dumb retracing his steps to perform a second pass. As James did so he caught her looking at him in the reflection as she was about to start her last reps. His dick twitched. James figured Nadia would be finishing up soon. He looked around the remaining parts of the weight room before leaving to check out the rest of Westwood. While he waited he caught glimpse of a woman who reminded him of one Cameron Feagin. Cameron was a young woman in her early 20s who was passed around various members of the Aqua Velvas like some VCR tape. An aspiring actress she was fooled into sleeping with James and his friends who did their own style of acting by making her think they had contacts with various Hollywood agents. Cameron was stunning, desperate, and fortunately for James quite naive. Then one day in Tijuana he spiked her drink like many of his friends often did with girls. She had a severe reaction, foamed at the mouth and died. James panicked and rang a friend who in turn knew of someone in the Mexican underworld. For five thousand dollars this Mexican placed Cameron's body in the trunk of his car and drove off with promises to bury the body somewhere. James' only reaction after a while was the bitterness towards Cameron for dying and to his drug dealer friend who told him the spike was “the shit”. Yeah the spike 'Was shit' he thought. Suddenly there was movement out of the corner of his eye. Nadia approached. His heart rate increased as she walked near James to get a drink of water from a fountain. ‘I can’t wait to get this one into the sack. She'll be in my black book in a category all by herself’. When she got within a few feet of him, those eyes of hers suddenly locked onto his. James could’ve sworn there was a super charged bolt of lust that flashed between the two. He licked his lips. “Hi,” she said. “Hey there,” James answered straightening himself out to appear taller. She wasn’t wearing a bra. James sized up her breasts to be a bit more than a handful. His cock twitched. Her nipples were quite pronounced as if she was already turned on. He slobbered over her exposed midriff that revealed a set of abs that resembled silver ingots. ‘Shit she’s something else,’ he thought. “You must be new. I’ve never seen you here before,” Nadia remarked as she removed the red bandana from her head. “Yeah, I just moved up from L.A. I wanted to find a gym and chose this one.” “Well I’m sure you’ll like it here,” Nadia replied. 'Love her eyes,' “I know I will,” he smiled. “Work hard, play hard that’s my motto. All the gym members here are totally serious about gettin’ their bods in shape. You should fit in really well.” “Well looking at you I’d say you definitely work hard, very hard. You’re unbelievable,” said James. “I play hard too.” “That I have no doubt. You need a play partner?” he asked with a sly grin. “Kinda depends on a few things,” Nadia replied her eyes checking him over. “Oh, like what?”, he asked. “Whether you’re the type that really gets me off. You know the kind of guy that lives in my fantasies.” “Was I in your last fantasy?” James grinned. A slight smile broke across her face and she said, “Hmmm, the stud in my fantasy had a great big cock and a pair of balls the size of lemons that he kept bragging about,” Nadia said putting her hands on her hips and looking straight into my eyes. ‘Damn look at those delts and biceps!’ “Is that right? Well look no further I’m your man.” “You think you’re my fantasy dude?” she smirked. “I might be,” he replied. “Really?” she chuckled in a manner that revealed she thought otherwise. Before James could say anything she stepped forward and put a hand down the front of his sweatpants, her gaze never broke from his. A devilish smile soon appeared across her face. He got an instant hard-on. “Oh, hey jeez wait uh, let‘s go somewhere private,” he said. Her hand stroked his organ and balls, massaging them before pulling her hand out from his sweatpants. She smelled her fingers, a flash of lust appeared in her eyes. She grunted softly, “Yeah, you might be right stud. I think we did have a session the other day.” Overcome with lust he blurted out seemingly out of control, “I gotta pound you deep with my big dick.” “Mmmm, that’s more like it. Well then Mr. Big Dick let’s see what you’ve got. Haul it out and pound it for me”, she cooed. “Uh, right here right now?” he asked incredulously. “I love to see a guy pound his own meat. Are you game? I so want to see those balls bounce while you jack off,” she cooed. James looked around and despite both being in a hidden nook well away from the public eye, doing something like this was something he tried to avoid. She didn’t seem to care one bit. “Maybe you’re not the stud from my fantasy. Sounds like you’re a fuckin’ wuss,” she smirked. “Yea? Well maybe it’s too big and you’re simply afraid,” James blurted out. She laughed, “Haul it out pal.” “Nah, you better do it,” he shot back. She still had that smirk on her face as she slowly got on her knees and pulled his sweatpants down to his knees. She grunted as she saw James’ turgid cum cannon spring up. The thing was getting fatter by the second. Veins stood out like roads on a map along the entire thick shaft. The energy James felt as it pointed skyward never failed to send a wave of power through him. James had always thought he could ram his cock through armor plate. He looked down on Nadia and upon seeing her kneeling down before him his slight case of anxiety he had earlier left him. “Fuckin’ suck it now,” he hissed. She looked up at him as if she was about to say something subservient as most women did to him but instead her dark eyes glowered back, “I don’t think you get how this works stud, you’re my toy.” She grabbed his cock and rammed it into her mouth and down her throat in a mere three seconds. Her deepthroating skills were beyond anything he’d ever experienced with the vast majority of the thousands he‘d fucked in his twisted sex crazed life. Up and down, up and down, up and down she went glazing his shaft with spittle. The blow job was heaven and he wished it would last longer but James already felt the urge to splurge. She sensed it and each time he was about to blow Nadia pulled on his ball sack preventing relief. In a matter of two minutes he went from dominant to dominated. She yanked on the ball sack and squeezed gently, “Who’s in charge fuckwit?” Pain and pleasure hit his nerves at once making James groan. She did it again this time harder, “Answer you fuck.” “You,” he grunted. “What was that?” she squeezed. “Ow, shit,” James winced. “That’s not an answer,” she shot back. Her offensive against his cock and balls continued unabated. Pressed up against a wall he was now receiving more pain than pleasure as his lower abdominals were cramping from the need to release the tsunami of seed. “You are, y-you’re in charge,” he stammered wishing he could cum. “Mmmm? Want me to stop?” she asked. “P-please,” he asked nearly begging. She grunted, “Fuck that boy-toy.” By now his balls were turning a shade of cobalt blue and the cock head a tint of violet. He was literally squirming to get away at which point she stood up. One hand stretching and massaging his ball sack to prevent the impending explosion. She used a forearm to push James back against the wall, her face only inches from his. “Don’t squirm wuss, you’ll only make it more painful,” Nadia said pressing harder into his chest. “Ah, shit please I gotta blow,” he spluttered. “You wanna blow your big wad huh stud,” she whispered. “Y-yes, p-please,” he grimaced as her arm press was starting to affect his breathing making him wonder just how strong this girl truly was. “Want me to make it all better, make the pain go away?” she said quietly. The pain and general discomfort he was undergoing was in fact getting a bit more extreme. She was enjoying every minute. She was clearly in charge and she made him know that. James had no doubt she must've made other guys feel the same. His anxiety came back this time full force. His legs felt weak. He wondered if Nadia even had a steady boyfriend. She most likely went through guys like a hot knife through butter. Hell, she probably collected them, made them do whatever she wanted. Being faced with her incredibly muscled physique, strength, height, and beauty Nadia was intimidating. She knew it of course and therefore used that to get what she desired. James suddenly realized he was being bested by his counterpart of a sorts. “You’re gonna eat your own cum dumbfuck,” she sneered. “What?” Before he even had time to fully register what she had demanded she grabbed the back of his head and forced James to double over while holding his balls and cock in the other. His neck and back muscles protested by causing the Alpha male to yell out briefly. Before he knew it his own cock was rammed into his very own mouth. She held James in a semi balled up position and growled, “Eat it slave,” as she helped to release the torrent of jizz held back for so long. It shot into his mouth and throat, rope after rope of hot seed blasted forth. The stuff was coming out of the corners of his mouth and nose. She laughed. James felt as if his own jaw was about to break from the size of his bloated cock. He was beginning to gag and tried to pull his head back but her forceful hand kept his head locked onto his own meat. James’ back muscles began to burn from the pain. “Yeah, that’s it stud eat it. Oh, yeah like that,” she smiled. She held him folded over as James was forced to eat his own seed. He'd finally stopped cumming but she held him in that position for a short while berating him in a hushed tone of how inferior he was compared to her. Finally, Nadia gripped his hair and yanked his mouth from the softening cock. James made a gasping sound trying to inhale as much air as possible. His face was a red mess, tears ran down his ruddy cheeks cum plastered over his square jaw and dimpled chin. “You look like shit faggot. You should get yourself cleaned up,” she snickered. His head was spinning and his muscled limbs felt heavy as if they were made of concrete. His growing anxiety forced him to blurt out, “You bitch, you’re really fucking crazy.” Her sly smile disappeared, and her dark sultry eyes began to glower in anger. She grabbed his aching crotch squeezed hard making him yelp in pain. She single-handedly hoisted 225lb James off the ground, “Yeah, you do need a wash.” James knew he was in for it and tried to reach for her throat. She sneered and struck him in the solar plexus with a punch that made him see all the stars in the Milky Way. All of the air within him left his lungs like some airplane cabin suffering a decompression at 35,000 feet. She threw him over one of her broad shoulders walked down the hall and kick in the door to the hot tub. With one foot she kicked the machine on making the water effervesce in a cavalcade of bubbles. Like a sack of garbage, she threw the now demoted Beta male in the water. He gasped for air as thrashed about attempting to recover from the aching sensation in his gut. He wiped the hair and water away from his “dreamy” blue eyes and there she stood. Her hands upon her hips looking down at him as if he truly was subservient. Even now he was in awe how her gym outfit conformed to her outrageous body. “I own your ass. You’re gonna learn like everyone else that I run the roost. Capiche? Soon you’ll worship the very ground I walk on,” she said in a tone that yielded an overwhelming sense of self-assuredness. “Do your parents know what you’re like? Do they know what you do, how you act?” he demanded. She smiled and replied, “I’m an A student, a loving helpful dutiful daughter to my parents and supportive protective sibling to my younger brother. Do they know how I treat scum like yourself? No, of course not.” “Well maybe I ought to tell them,” James replied back to her. “Hmmm, that would be a poor choice bucko. I’d bury your ass if you did, and I do mean bury,” she smiled her eyes boring holes through him. “Okay missy,” he’d had enough of her attitude and scraped what little pride he had left. “Missy? What decade are you in?”, she laughed. James scrambled out of the hot tub, his self-esteem nearly shot. The idea of being challenged by a girl was more than he could bear. If news got out of this episode no woman would ever want to be seen with him ever again. The “Superstud” James Ramsbottom would forever live in shame. He had to do something. “You look pissed,” she said as he fumbled his way over to her. “You’re damn right I am,” he barked. “Shhhhh, calm down little man. Don’t spaz out. I see you still haven’t learned. Therefore, I’ll have to be much firmer with you,” Nadia said in a calm voice that only served to agitate him more. The light and shadow played games across her incredible musculature. Nadia's back looked like some geographical relief map of valleys and rolling hills of raw muscle. He couldn’t help feeling a tiny resurgence of lust down below. ‘I’ll rape this mouthy bitch raw,’ he thought to himself. “I’ll be the one who’s firm. Just assume the position and take it like the whore you are,” he demanded. “A whore? How about an introduction first. Why don’t you say hello to my Enforcers,” Nadia answered. “Your what?” “My Enforcers,” she reiterated doing a double bicep pose. ‘Fuck me’, James was astonished even a little frightened by her physique. Her arms were truly huge and those lats of hers, by God! He guessed the size of her guns to be around 23 inches (at least) in diameter with biceps that actually sported a double peak. The vasculature wrapped around steely forearms and bicep muscle like cables. He gulped. She wobbled a huge glute before tensing the muscle that revealed segmented musculature, “And these are my glorious Pythons.” Nadia was a complete package with attitude to boot. “I think you need to lay off the juice honey.” Nadia laughed, “You think I take that stuff? No way Jose. What you see is all me pal. Just me, myself, and my killer genes.” “Yeah, sure whatever you say. Your genetics alone are responsible for all that muscle and your feminine charm,” he snorted. “I'm a great person once you get to know me, I mean as long as you stay on my good side that is, “ Nadia replied. “Oh, I bet you're all sugar and spice bitch.” “Isn't that what you like in a girl? For her to be innocent, sweet, and submissive or do you like them to be dominant like me? Maybe you don't have a preference. You just see what flips your griddle and go for it,” Nadia said fawning an air of innocence. “Take a fucking guess,” James said grabbing a towel to dry off. “Did you get all your own cum off?” she snickered. “We aren't done here,” he muttered. “You know I bet you're a sub. You act like Mr. Dominant but secretly you love to be the receiver. Am I right? Now what would be your hottest fantasy? Lemme think for a sec.” “I can guess your story honey. A guy you really liked once said you were the lamest lay he'd ever had. That dashed your dreamy dream of skipping off into the sunset hand in hand with him. So you swore to yourself you'd punish every guy you'd meet especially those like myself who are confident in who we are. Guys like me are a reminder of that one that got away.” Nadia laughed clapping her hands together, “Wow! Is that what you think? Do yourself a favor and never become a psychologist, you truly suck.” James’ mouth was dry and he wiped water from his face. He’d have to seriously take her on if he was to recover any sense of self-worth. He’d never live this down if he lost. Whatever happened next he’d make up one hell of a story later for his friends. “Okay b-bitch whatever, your t-times up. I’m g-gonna kick your ass and f-fuck you r-raw,” he said. She snickered in response which caused her cobble stone abs to tighten and her breasts to jiggle. Nadia imitated his speech, “Oh r-really y-you’re gonna k-kick my ass? For sure. It's time you got on all fours and kissed my feet worm.” Nadia gave him an open handed slap to his face. The sound reverberated throughout the room and gym. Her hand struck his face and made a sound similar to a bullwhip cracking. The impact caused the male stud to lean hard over. Something brilliant white flew from his mouth and skittered across the tiled floor. James thought he was about to lose his balance and fall over. The entire left side of his face burned something fierce but that wasn't the only sensation that that made warning bells go off in his head. For some reason the vision from his left eye was suddenly blurred. No, correct that he had no vision from that eye period. “What the fuck!? Shit I-I can't see out of my fucking left eye. Shit!”, he exclaimed. “I think you lost something else bozo. Better look in the mirror,” Nadia chuckled. He staggered over to one nearby and was shocked by what he saw. Half of his face was beet red and one of his famed pearly white teeth had a problem. A guaranteed public image problem, “You fuckin' bitch! You knocked the cap off of one my front teeth. Fuck!” He saw her in the mirror's reflection standing behind him hands on her hips with a big grin across her face. “I think it went over there somewhere, “Nadia nodded. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” James got on his hands and knees to look for his prized cap on the floor and blubbered, “Where is it?” “Jeez stop spazzing out. I didn't even hit you that hard,” she said. “I-I think you detached my retina too. Shit!” “Gotta admit there are times I don't know my own strength,“ Nadia shrugged. “There it is!”, he cried out as he spotted the lone tooth cap hiding in a corner. James tried to examine it and went back to the mirror. What would his fellow Aqua Velvas think of him looking like this? A tear welled up in his eye and he sniffled. James stomped his foot in frustration like a petulant child, “No, no, no! I look like crap dammit!” “Are you crying? Holy shit you are! Oh my god you're such a fucking fag! What a freakin' pussy. I was about to say that I'm not done with you here but now I'd actually feel bad beating you to a pulp. I give you permission to leave. Really just get the fuck out of my sight you freak.” He turned to her and for split second thought about rushing her before making the wise decision to cut and run. His face all red he replied, “This isn't over bitch and you know it!” She could only giggle at the Beta male with the fucked up tooth trying to make threats, “Hey bud, you better hope I don't see you again because if I do I guarantee I'll turn you into my very own meat puppet.” A member of Nadia's fan club was nearly bowled over by James who staggered out from the whirlpool room muttering to himself about how he was going to 'kill the bitch'. He was followed by Nadia herself who slowly sauntered back to the weight-room. The fan club groupie just shook his head and said to her, “Nadia you're such a heart breaker, or should I say neck breaker.” She smiled back and replied, “You know it.”
  9. ragmangsm

    Machu Man - Part 1

    Hi All, It’s been awhile since I posted in the old forum and caused a disturbance in the force by introducing a 12-yr old superboy, Kyle in My Nephew stories. I’ve written a couple more chapters of My Nephew which would be more appropriate in the uncensored section. If there is an interest I can post the whole series or just the newer chapters. Below is a new story line with characters 18 yrs old or older. I am a whore for feedback. Please let me know if it pushes any buttons. -ragman Warning: This fantasy story is for adults only. You must be 21 years old to continue. Adult content may include nudity, mature relationships, violence, and extreme muscles and strength. All characters are over the age of eighteen. Machu Man – Part 1 By ragman I was struggling for breath in the altitude, as we approached Machu Picchu. The scenery was breathtaking, as well as the thin air. I was never an athlete, just average. I seemed to excel in academics, and had found mathematics a rewarding endeavor. I had just graduated and was hired to teach at our state university in the fall. So I thought I would take advantage of a student summer tour while I still had a student ID. The mystery of Machu Picchu, how a town could have been built on top of a mountain, out of huge stone boulders, was fascinating to me. The low cost of the student tour to this world landmark, made it something I couldn’t pass up. I meandered around the city on top of a mountain. The size of the stone slabs that made up much of the structure was enormous. How blocks of granite the size of cars were fashioned and hoisted in place was incredible. But more amazing was how tightly the stone slabs fit, how exactly, without mortar to seal them. How could primitive man manage to transport hundreds of tons of solid stone to the top of a mountain and then, with no metal tools or machines, build a city where every stone is precisely placed with perfectly tight seams requiring no mortar? My scientific brain was trying to imagine how such a feat could be accomplished. It seemed truly impossible. My head was filled with incredulousness as I was fumbling with my camera, trying to capture the impossible beauty of our three dimensional world on a two dimensional digital image, when I tripped and dropped my camera. It fell off the path and down the mountainside, but came to rest on a shelf of rock about six feet below the path. I was pissed at my clumsiness, and overreacted to the mishap. Without concern I shimmied over the path down to the ledge to retrieve my camera. It wasn’t until I was standing on the ledge that it occurred to me that I was in a dangerous spot, trusting on the ledge alone. I reached down cautiously to get my camera, putting it in my sweatshirt pouch. As I bent back up, I noticed a glimmer coming from a fairly deep crack in the rock. It looked like a metal sheen. I carefully dug around the object, until it came free. It was a small earthen jar, sealed with a gold top, the reason for the gleam. I put the jar in my sweatshirt pouch. By that time, my disappearance over the edge of the path had caused the guide and others to come to my aid. They helped me climb back up on the path, though I could have managed by myself. I assured them I was fine and showed them the camera I retrieved. I decided not to mention the jar. I don’t know why, I guess I didn’t want to share it yet. We continued the tour of the city. Beautiful stone and rock construction, with running water viaducts, and mysterious obelisks. The scale of the dwelling was awesome, suspended on top of the world. My senses were overloaded with the majesty and the architectural undertaking it took to build it. I was enthralled with beautiful images the entire bus ride back to our lodging, having forgotten about the small jar in my sweatshirt, now in my pack. We barely had time to grab a bite to eat and pack our bags before heading back to the airport for the journey home. ****************** I was moving into my new place just off campus, looking forward to starting my mathematics teaching career. I didn’t have that much to move in, being a recent student with not a lot of furniture or belongings. So, I had rented a furnished townhouse, and was unpacking the last of my stuff. Ah, the knapsack from the Machu Picchu trip, I had quickly packed it when leaving South America, and hadn’t needed the stuff in it, my sweatshirt included. I unstuffed the fleece and felt something in the pouch. The little jar, of course, I had forgotten. I took it out of the pouch and examined it more closely. There were some markings on it. On the face of the small jar was etched a figure, but it was out of proportion somehow, almost fat, but different. And the gold top had a character inscribed, also. It looked like an “8”. My curiosity soon led me to wonder about the contents. I tried to uncork the top, but I couldn’t get the gold stop to budge. I finally decided to try my mom’s remedy and put the top under hot water for a few seconds. I tried again, and the top shifted slightly. I mustered all the strength in my thumbs and jockeyed the stopper out of the neck of the jar. The final millimeter gave with a “Pooh”. A dense cloud of blue gas escaped from the bottle and swirled around in front of me, condensing into a human form. The gases solidified and became solid. Before me stood a young man. He was about six feet tall, my height, with golden hair and blue eyes. His face was young, I’d say, seventeen or eighteen, with tanned skin. He wore only a piece of what looked like leather, in a loin cloth fashion, that covered his man-ness. He was svelte and muscular, like a fitness model, with wonderful proportions. “You have summoned me to serve you, Master,” he spoke with soft resonance. “How can I please you?” “Who are you? Why are you here?” I babbled. “I am yours. You hold the vessel of my control. I am here to obey your every command. You decide my purpose and identity. I will become your perfect companion.” I was stunned to say the least. This couldn’t really be happening, could it? A genie from a bottle, no less. What should I do next? “Please tell me how to begin. I am at a loss for what to say,” I requested. “I am sorry I have caused you distress. I will try to ease your discomfort.” The teenage Apollo approached me and embraced me gently. His touch was warm and enveloping. He exuded confidence and trustworthiness. My defenses were slowly lowering as he moved his strong hands over my body in a caress. “Does that make you less tense, Master?” he asked. “I have many ways to give you pleasure, that you will learn to command. My body can do things no one else could dream of, and you get to do the dreaming.” “I don’t understand,” I replied. “You will just do whatever I ask you to do?” “Yes, Master.” “With what kind of limits?” I added. “Do I just get three wishes?” I asked like a fool. “I have no limits, Master. You can command me to do anything.” “What are we talking about here?” I pondered. “What do you mean you can do anything” “I have the power of the galaxy in my body, the strength of a millions suns. I can do any feat of strength you can imagine, I have inconceivable control of every muscle of my body.” “This is too much to believe,” I struggled. “I need to take a minute.” Perhaps this is a good time to mention that I have always been turned on by muscles, on men or women, but especially men. I have found the muscled male body to be a work of magnificent sculpture, of muscle art. I have curbed or mitigated my private fantasies, relying on internet sites for titillation and amusement, always secretly wanting a muscle mate, to dote on and worship, who would protect me and make my wishes come true. What was standing before me fulfilled a fantasy of my lifetime. “I noticed you were beginning to rub me back, when we embraced. Did you like the feel of my body?” “You are beautifully handsome, and I have a weakness for big, strong muscles,” I was surprised to hear myself admit that to a genie. “You are captivating, and intriguing.” “So if my muscles were bigger, that would please you more?” “Probably,” I nodded. “I haven’t had the opportunity to find out.” “How about this, Master?” The genie tensed his muscles. He expanded outward with the flex, bulging and rippling with growing muscles until he looked like a teenage bodybuilder. “Whoa, that’s amazing how you can flex your muscles that big. It makes me want to feel how hard you are now, how strong you have flexed.” The muscled teen stepped to me and offered his flexed biceps for me to explore. He grabbed my hand gently and placed it on top of the peaked split of his 20 inch arm. It was hard, and warm and alive. He flexed a bit harder and forced my fingers apart with his bulging muscle. “This arm is all yours, Master. You can command it to grow and strengthen with the power of thunderheads, or order it to flex to the ceiling or higher.” I was awestruck with the possibilities of his power. With his confidence and demeanor, muscles and charisma, he was the perfect fulfillment of my wildest fantasies. “Does my demonstration please you, Master?” he asked hoping for approval. “I’ve never been more pleased,” I managed to mutter. “But, I think it’s time for you to call me Mike, instead of Master. That’s my name.” “Very well, Mike. You are unlike the others. You are kind. Thank you for allowing me to please you with my strength. Nothing gives ME more pleasure than using my immense strength and powers to benefit those with good hearts. My vessel has not always been in possession by those who have benevolent thoughts. Regardless, I must obey the commands of my owner, it is my purpose.” “When were you last released from your vessel?” I asked, trying to assimilate what I was hearing. “My last task was building a city of stone on top of a mountain.” “Machu Picchu?” I asked incredulously. “You built it single handedly?” “No, Mike. I built it with both hands, and the rest of my powerful body.” Obviously, he was going to answer me literally. “So, you’ve been in the jar for all this time?” “You are my first Master since Machu Picchu, as you call it.” “Whoa, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” I marveled. “It’s been a few years since you’ve been out of your vessel.” “It pleases me that you will be my Master, Mike. I will learn all there is to know so that I can serve you,” he said. “Uh,…. OK.” I responded with fascination. “Can we talk a little more about how this works? I’m not sure I get what’s going on.” “Of course, Mike. Whatever you wish.” he said obediently. “That’s what I mean. Do you just follow me around and do stuff for me?” I was confused. “I’ve got a lot of questions.” “I am here to do whatever you ask of me, Mike. In the past I have been the servant of Kings, and tyrants, alike. I can build you a monument, defeat your enemies, or serve your every physical desire.” “So you have no desires of your own?” I asked. “Only to please you, Mike,” he said humbly. This was going in circles, so I decided to change the subject to everyday matters. “So, where do you sleep? Do you eat?” Stuff like that. He explained his ability to adapt and fit in with humanity. He said he didn’t require food or water or sleep, but, he could consume anything I wanted him to, literally. He told me some of his masters kept him in his vessel while they slept, for fear he would escape, which he could not, or to keep him secret. I asked him if he minded being in the vessel. “It is what my masters’ wished,” he responded, not understanding the meaning of the question. I still couldn’t believe what was happening. I just stared at the loincloth-clad Adonis before me. He started to look around. “How long have I been in my vessel? Where are we Master Mike?” he inquired. “Is this your dwelling?” “Wow, I didn’t think about how many questions you would have, I was so lost in my own wonderment,” I apologized. “Where shall we start?” “Start wherever you wish to begin,” he obediently replied. I rolled my eyes at the repetition of his acquiescence. “Can we begin with you not being so subservient? I’d like you to be a friend, not a slave.” He responded with confusion, “I’ve never had friend, nor do I know how to be one. Would you please teach me, Mast…eh…, Mike, my f-r-i-e-n-d?” he asked sheepishly. “I’d love to, Friend!” I added eagerly. I moved to him and put my arm around his sculpted shoulder and gently squeezed. He was warm and hard and responded with his arm on my shoulder. It was heavier than I expected. “Well, to answer your first question, it’s the year 2014,” I began. “And you are a long way from Machu Picchu.” ******************* I had a few days before I started work, so we were able to spend some time together, getting to know each other, or rather me learning about his abilities, and Machu Man, learning about what pleased me. The experience was mind blowing. I asked for him to demonstrate his true strength. He told me that was not possible, because he had found no limits. I caught my breath, and tried to comprehend what that meant. He picked up an empty wine bottle and placed it between his pectorals. He flexed his chest and his cleavage grew to almost surround the bottle. Then he flexed harder and I heard glass shatter, but he contained the fragments within his cleavage. Next he began flexing each pec and grinding up the glass between them. I could see the pieces get smaller and smaller until the mixture was like fine glass cement. Then Machu Man flexed harder and his pecs began to heat up. He poured on the power and soon the glass dust was a molten blob of glass that continued to get hotter with the enormous pressure and heat he was generating with his chest muscles. The blob began to boil between his pecs, and evaporate in a cloud of silica steam that was thousands of degrees hot. What happened next was my first observation of his true nature. He inhaled the superhot glass steam through his nostrils, like he was smelling roses. After a few seconds the entire glass blob was reduced to steam, by the heat of his muscle pressure, and inhaled completely. I was speechless. “That is one way I fashioned the huge stone blocks of Machu Picchu so they would fit perfectly together,” he commented. I’d soften the side of a stone block by hugging it real hot. Then when I placed it, the stone would flow like lava and seal with the stone next to it.” I heard what he was saying, but still couldn’t fathom the reality. “I’d pile three or four huge boulders on top of each other and carry them up the mountain balanced on one hand, like a waiter holding a tray.” Machu Man held his right hand up with the palm facing up to demonstrate the position. The movement of his arm caused his biceps and deltoids to flex into a perfect display of hard, ripped muscles, with the biceps full and long in their 22-inch flex. He then pumped his arm up and down as if he were lifting a mountain of boulders. His triceps expanded into a boulder of muscle itself as he mimicked a one-arm press. He seemed to notice my fixation with his flexing, enjoying my reaction. “Then I’d start piling them up, building a wall or arch,” he continued to mime, as he would spread his arms wide to pretend lifting a huge block of stone. His pantomime was extraordinary. His chest and arms exploded with striated muscle fibers as he appeared to lift a huge weight before him. Then things got pretty freaky. “Then I would expand my chest really big like this,” he moaned. “Unnnmmpphh.” His perfect pectorals expanded hugely, filling in the space between his outstretched hands, which must have been 6-feet apart. “Then I would flex my muscle fibers really hot, like I did with the wine bottle.” Suddenly the room temperature spiked from the heat of his pectorals as he demonstrated his power. “Oops, too hot for indoors. But, you get the idea,” he continued his skit. “So I’d soften the entire side of a huge block of stone with my enormous chest, then place it where I wanted, and gently press the stone. The softened face would mold perfectly to fit tightly.” As Machu Man concluded his description of boulder masonry, he seemed to misinterpret my enthrallment. “Have I displeased you Master Mike?” he asked worriedly. “I thought you might enjoy my tale. You haven’t said much.” After regaining my composure some, I tried to respond. “Y... you made the city by melting the stone faces with your pecs?” I finally muttered. “Yes, Mike. That is one of the methods I used to make the stones fit perfectly. It only took a fraction of my strength and power to build Machu Picchu. Stone is easily broken and melted with enough pressure. And these muscles can exert more than enough pressure.” Machu Man raised his arms and brought them down into a double biceps pose. This time, with his hands in the classic position, his biceps erupted into twin Matterhorns of peaked spendor, easily eclipsing 27-inches. My junk could take no more. My erection was painfully confined by my pants, but clearly visible. He smiled and pumped another 2 inches out of his peaked muscle mass, then waited for my reaction. I moaned and pumped ejaculate out of my tented member, staining my pants. “I was worried that my muscle story had disturbed you. I am grateful that you seem to be pleased,” Machu Man spoke softly. “I want very much to please you.” ‘I have never heard of a mason that melted his stone for mortar,” I marveled. “I don’t think anyone has called me a mason before,” he replied. “You know, ‘Mason’ would be a good name for you. It’s kinda clever, if I do say so myself, and it sounds strong, with some distinction.” I was pleased with my suggestion. “What do you think about me calling you Mason?” Machu Man started to respond as usual, “If that is wha…… I mean,… I like …Mason. I can identify with the name.” “Awesome,” I agreed. “Awesome?” Mason questioned. “It’s a current slang expression than means ‘better than ever, great, or super good’,” I tried to explain. “I think being your friend will be awesome, Mike,” he smiled. I melted. After I composed myself I began again. “There is so much to teach someone who has been away for 900 years. So much history, so many new inventions, such a different way of life than you know of. We have machines and tools, electricity and nuclear power…. We’ve even traveled to the moon.” Mason gazed around the room as I spoke and took in everything. He didn’t seem to be overwhelmed by it all, indeed, he seemed to soak it all in. “You need to teach me how to operate all these devices,” he remarked as he scoped the TV, computer, refrigerator, oven, and all the furniture. “I will, Mason. You’ll be amazed with all things in this modern world. But, first, I think we need to deal with your appearance.” “Oh?” he wondered. “Do I need to add more muscle to please you, like this?” He stood more erect and flexed a bit all over, causing him to expand his musculature to a pro bodybuilder size. It was breathtakingly amazing how he could grow at will like that. After I stopped gasping, I said, “My god! That’s not what I meant, but you are magnificent. I was talking about your loin cloth. I don’t think you’ll fit in wearing only a piece of hide. We need to put modern clothes on you. Or at least some shorts that make you more presentable.” I was thinking how I didn’t want to cover up his upper body. “OK, Mike. I’ll take this off” Before I knew what was happening, Mason reached for his waist strap, which was made of heavy rawhide, and easily tore it apart, causing his loin cloth to drop to the ground. There in my townhouse stood naked perfection. I stood, waveringly, as I took in his splendor. He was perfect. His proportions were perfect. His muscle definition was perfect. His skin seemed more perfect than I noticed before. His eyes were bluer than I remembered and his golden hair was perfectly silken. And his manhood was…perfect. In its relaxed state his cock hung with throbbing veins snaking around its perfect 8-inch length. His two testes filled his perfectly sized sac and exuded power. Mason stood there with no embarrassment, naïvely actually, and waited for his next instruction. “What should I wear, Mike?” broke the silence. “Uh, er…. Why don’t you try a pair of my undershorts?” I managed to answer. “Here, try these on. They are stretchy and fit snuggly. Then put on these cargo shorts. The legs are bigger so they should fit you better.” “Thanks, Mike. It’s cool that we both are about the same size, when I’m not flexing much.” ‘Not flexing much’? He seemed pretty big to me. How big could he flex? ***************** Finally, I had to report to work. I told Mason he should watch TV, or surf the net, to learn about what was happening in this era. He sat down and turned on the tube. When I got home he was in the same position, with the TV on a news channel and the computer screen flashing pages at an astounding rate. “Have you been watching that all day?” I asked. “That was your command, Master Mike. Though I must say, much of this news is repetitive and opinionated.” That sounded very astute. “I learned how to manipulate the computer so it would show several pages at one time. And scroll faster than it was set up to. So I was able to read all of Wikipedia and all the books in the Library of Congress while you were at work. Mankind has made many advances, but still seems to allow suffering at the hands of religious tyrants or greedy tycoons.” I heard what he said, noticed the computer flashing multiple pages a second, and tried to comprehend his enormous abilities. “There seems to be a variety of disasters around the globe, earthquakes, floods, wars, killings. Do you wish me to stop them?” he asked, matter-of-factly. “You have the strength and power to stop earthquakes?” I was amazed at the concept. “If you command me, Mike.” “I don’t want the responsibility to decide who gets saved, and who doesn’t. And what unintended consequences might result from messing with Mother Nature. Frankly, I was enjoying your company. This is a new town, and a new job for me. It’s kind of stressful dealing with it all.” Not to mention pondering the presence of a god, which I didn’t. “I was wishing you would be my friend, someone I can count on, for support and comfort.” “Of course, Mike. Let me support and comfort you now.” Mason picked me up effortlessly in his muscled arms and held me close. His warm, throbbing body was electrifying. I felt a surge of energy and well-being that made me shiver. “What would friends do after a day at work?” Mason asked. His question caught me off guard. “I guess, they would head to a game, or go get a drink.” “Game? That sounds interesting. What games do you play?” “Oh, I like to play most sports, I just never had the drive to work that hard. I think there’s a baseball game tonight, at the college. Do you want to go?” “If that is your desire, Master Mike.” I flinched a bit. ************************* We headed to our seats in the bleachers. I bought us each a couple of hot dogs and a beer, to teach Mason the proper way to watch sports. He watched me bite into my dog and enjoy the fatty delicacy. I watched him take the entire hot dog, put it in his mouth, and suck it down his throat in one piece. “You might want to chew your food before you swallow it whole, when you’re in public,” I suggested. “Of course, Mike.” He bit off a hunk of his other dog, chewed once and swallowed. “Please don’t waste your money on food for me. I don’t require it.” “OK,” I agreed. “Let me tell you about the rules of baseball.” I hadn’t tried to tell someone about baseball, that hadn’t seen a game before. It’s not that easy to explain. It is truly a unique game. There are no time limits, a team can overcome a seemingly insurmountable lead in the last inning and win. Plays that count are sometimes out of bounds, like foul flies. And other oddities of the game. Mason seemed to learn very quickly. In the bottom of the ninth, our team needed three runs to wins. We had two runners on, with the winning run at the plate, and two outs. The batter swung and popped it up in the infield. “Damn, I wish he coulda hit a home run, out here in the bleachers,” I unknowingly spoke. “As you wish, Mike.” Mason pursed his lips and sucked in like a tornado. The ball reached the top of its arc and was sucked towards the bleachers, caught in the vacuum of Mason’s breath. Once the trajectory was altered and the ball was headed our way, he stopped inhaling and I watched the ball fall from the sky into his outstretched hand. The home crowd went wild with the homerun, the other team was baffled by an easy out turning into a loss. “Shit, did you do that?” I said staring at the ball in Mason’s hand. “It is what you wished,” he said, proudly handing me the ball. I needed to be careful what I casually ‘wished’ for. “Do you want to go to the bar, like friends?” he asked. “Yeah, that would be great,” I answered, holding the ball in my hand, still wondering how he did that. “Except, you don’t have any ID. You can’t get in without ID,” I stated. “I have been smuggled into places in the past, Mike,” Mason said. “I can return to my vessel and you can carry me in your pocket. Once inside, you can release me where it’s safe.” Huh, that sounded possible. We headed back to my place to get his vessel. ************************** I was curious. “Tell me more about how you and this jar work.” “Of course, Mike. My vessel holds the essence of my power. He, who possesses it, possesses me.” “But, it looks quite fragile, like it could break. What happens to you if your vessel is damaged?” I asked. Mason was lost in thought. “I have not been asked that question before. If my vessel were destroyed, I would have no Master to serve. I would have no purpose.” “While I’m your ‘master’, do you automatically protect and save me, or do I have to wish for every rescue, specifically?” I was somewhat embarrassed that my analytical, mathematical mind was asking such lame questions. “When I take human form out of the vessel, it is my purpose to see no harm comes to you, my Master, as I fulfill your desires,” Mason stated. “Do you still wish to go to the bar, like friends?” His frank honesty, his unbelievable power, combined with his manly tenderness, all wrapped up in a six foot tall gorgeously muscled body, was making me forget about the rest of the world. “Or should I just entertain and please you here?” he asked willingly bouncing his pecs. “My desires to please you are greater than for any other master. I feel stronger, more alive, more powerful with you as my Master, Mike. Thank you for caring about me. No one has ever cared about me before.” “Hey, that’s what friends do. They care for and look out for each other,” I said, putting my arm around his muscled shoulders. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have found you as a friend. Who else has a friend that can suck a pop-up into the bleachers for a winning home run?” “Did you like that,” he grinned. “I thought you might. I know you didn’t REALLY wish for it, but it IS what you said.” “Why, you son-of-a-gun,” I joshed, punching him too hard in the gut, a mistake that gave me a sore hand. “You even have a sense of humor. I love it.” Mason looked at me softly with a smile. “OK, here’s my real wish, all the time, while we’re friends. I wish you would show your sense of humor often, and I wish you would express your views freely. I don’t want a sycophant for a friend.” “OK, I’ll just be your lover.” I was silenced. “Ha-ha. My second joke,” his laugh was forced. My face was flushed. He saw my reaction. “I’m sorry, I see I may have offended you, my friend,” he spoke with sincerity. “My past owners have often ordered me to perform for them, as well as win wars. I am inexperienced with speaking freely, with humor. I was trying to amuse you. Please forgive me.” He lowered his head in shame. “Hey, come here. I love you, bro. Now that the shock is over, that WAS pretty funny.” I gave Mason a hug. He seemed to be relieved. “So, I know what will make you feel better, Mason,“ I tried to change the tone. “I wish you would pose and flex and turn yourself into the most beautiful muscular specimen on the planet, just for me.” Mason’s eyes lit up, even sparkled, as his posture regained his confidence. “Nothing would give me more satisfaction. Would you please give me a measurement to work from?” he asked with anticipation. “How about 30 inch biceps,” I responded, finally understanding the question. “Ah, probably the upper limit of most men. And a most wonderfully aesthetic size, allowing for beautiful symmetry on my six foot frame.” Mason took off the clothes he was wearing, my shirt and pants, leaving my stretchy boxers. It was convenient that he could wear my size, so we were able to avoid shopping for him, while my budget was tight. I took a comfortable seat on the couch. Mason stood just a few feet before me. “Thank you for asking me to pose for you. Masters of yore did not appreciate my body as an object of worship, with large bulging muscles. They were intimidated with how I could flex my muscles to huge proportions, making them feel insignificant and insecure. They always feared me.” He continued with praise, “You are different. You have a desire, a fascination for seeing my muscles flexed bigger than anyone has wanted me to flex before. Thank you for liberating me with your desires, Mike. I will do my best to please you.” Wow, please me he did. He began with kind of a dance, that was flowing and sensual. His tightly muscled physique was undulated, and defined. Wonderfully sharp and articulated muscle fibers appeared on his lean body. Then his muscles began to grow. His muscle fibers split and bulged anew, adding inches of hard, vascular, teen muscle to his youthful bodybuilder frame. He started to add a second of ‘freeze’ to his rhythmical movements, stopping to flex a pose. Each pose he flexed, got bigger and more defined. His calves mushroomed to 27 inches of diamond hard, angular, vascular, throbbing, double cantaloupes of snarled steel muscle fibers. The tear drop muscles over his knee looked like two fifty pound bags of cement, that would churn into striated ridges of muscles when he flexed, while the rest of his quad exploded with huge cables of criss-crossing sinew reaching at least 58 inches, each. As his routine continued, he would turn around and show all sides of his amazingly muscled body. His bulbous strips of gluteus muscles, his mogul mountain of hamstrings, all stood out with deep crevasses defining each muscle. His two lower back, spinal cables were thickly twisted muscle strands that could hold a suspension bridge aloft, growing even larger and more rippled as they moved up along his spine. His lats flared out in slabs of thick wings, with individual muscle ‘fingers’ squeezing out of the edges of his wide ‘v’ shape, that fought for space with his ballooning triceps. His traps were casings of bulging sausage that came up to his ears. I was having a hard time absorbing everything I was seeing. The absolutely stunning musculature before me, had not been seen by a human before. I felt inadequate, yet in a way, somewhat responsible for the emergence of his new existence. I could only stare and try to comprehend his power, his strength, all that he was surrendering to me to fulfill my desires. He kept dancing and posing, turning and flexing. I witnessed the most intricate and condensed display of abdominal muscle in the world, within a waist that only measured about 28 inches. The narrowness of his waist sharply contrasted the slabs of pectorals and lats that made up his 76 inch chest measurement. He raised his arms and flexed a double biceps pose. The caps of his massive shoulders fought for space between his head and biceps. The bowling pins of his forearms were 22 inches at least. And crowning the statue of muscle perfection, were two multi-headed monoliths of might, measuring 30 inches around. “Please don’t move for a moment,” I managed to whisper. I needed more time to take him all in, to force myself to breathe. Mason smiled at me and tensed a bit more, causing every muscle fiber to harden to steel, giving his body a sheen. I don’t think I was able to blink for over a minute. “May I move now, Mike?” Mason’s voice shocked me to the present. I managed to nod. He relaxed his flex and sat down next to me, putting his massive arm around me, pulling me to the cavern that was formed by his chest, lats and arm. “I am grateful that you found my vessel, Mike. I have never had a master that wanted me as a friend, like you. It is a very rewarding experience. You have opened my being to new experiences, given me new levels of awareness, released….feelings. I don’t believe I’ve had feelings before. I wish you would help me understand them,… friend.” He sounded like a confused teenager, genuinely asking for my help. “Of course, my Master,” I said, reversing roles. “That’s what friends are for.” *******************************
  10. Mrmusclewriter

    ***The Strength of a Bull*** (Part 1)

    Oh Paco, oh Paco, oh Paco, it sounded like a song or perhaps like a joke but it was the way the guys used to sing every time Paco “El Toro” Bautista used to step into the gym ready to train to death as he used to call his pro bodybuilding training. A Spanish bodybuilder, one of the few who went so far in the pro bodybuilder, a life worshipping the iron to build and develop a body that only in few could have around the world. Forget the King of Shred, Andres Munzer that was out of his league, Paco was from another planet. He was huge, massive, and dense, built like a tank. That body seemed to be carved in rock and stones, every muscular group looked like it was made from concrete bricks, every fibre was visible as his skin was made of the thinner fabric with the lowest fat percentage if not the total absence. El Toro was walking towards the weights, listening to that music of his worshippers’, drawing a proud smile on his face. He was walking with all his cockiness, nothing could pass through those huge and sculpted legs, and they were so big, massive and defined that could produce sparks when they touched each other. No t-shirt was big to stretch enough to keep that mole. The sleeves seemed to ask for forgiveness as they were rolled up, those biceps were huge, striated and full of vein, the pectorals ready to tear the t-shirt apart and the shorts tight enough to adhere very tightly to his big quads. The floor lightly shook. At first you had to pay attention. It was like someone was dropping heavy weights after a dead lift. A shadow passed over Oscar as he finished the last reps on his bench press. The man was wide and thick, more massive than any lifter here. Oscar was tired of this worship of this human steer... He walked up behind Paco and tapped his massive shoulder. Oscar noticed his hand looked small next to Paco's shoulder. The handsome Spanish turned brown eyes like shining dark pools fixed on his. Oscar spat in his face! Without warning he took advantage of the moment of blindness Paco had and grabbed his head hooking his arm over the back. He dropped his ass to the gym floor pulling Paco down with him. Paco’s head slammed into the cement floor sounding like a breaking coconut! Oscar hadn't prepared to be buried under Paco's massive body. The thickness of his chest and lats smothered over him. With all his power he kicked Paco's unconscious body off him and stood finally. He kicked the Spanish in the face. Everybody stopped, looked at the two bodybuilders, no one intervened, they kept watching, the worshippers were smiling as they knew Oscar won’t last longer in this life. Oscar kneeled and set over Paco’s massive chest, he punched his face several times, with rage and anger pictured on his face, it was pure violence, Paco could not have the time to cover his face, the attacks was fast and mean for a guy half of Paco’s size. El Toro’s face bounced in every direction of the punches, until Paco blocked the attack locking his hands over Oscar’s wrist. “My turn Oscar” Paco said with an irritate tone of voice. Paco bounced Oscar from his chest, releasing a grip but holding the other wrist and as the Hulk did to Loki, he started throwing Oscar’s body all over the floor and the benches like a ragdoll. The impacts were insane and deadly. Oscar body was hitting everywhere. Paco stopped for a second grabbing back the other wrist and with inhuman power he threw Oscar’s body over the concrete pile just before the entrance of the locker room. Marino screamed, Paco released the hold and his body fell off onto the floor. Paco was furious and angry, rage was loading every moment, Oscar was lying on the floor trying to revive him. “I am sorry Paco, forgive me” Oscar said when Paco approached him. The Spanish didn’t say a word and grabbed Oscar by his silver hair and dragged him into the huge locker room, like in those paint when the Neanderthal does the same to the poor wife. Oscar was slammed onto the locker that produced a loud and metallic sound. “You challenged me and I will take your life” stated Paco. “Please Paco, forgive me, please” Oscar cried. “I will fucking squeeze your stupid and pathetic life out of you, you will be bleeding to Death” Paco replied. Oscar tried to stand up and run away but Paco stomped his back, putting him down on the floor, applying pressure with the right foot. “Stay there Oscar” Paco said and Oscar moaned in pain while Paco was moving his foot over Oscar’s vertebrae as he was putting off a cigarette. The friction was so high that the bones started cracking under Paco’s pressure. Another stomp delivered by Paco and Oscar’s back bent; a loud scream went out from his mouth. Paco kneeled sliding his left leg under Oscar’s abdomen and the other leg over his spine. It felt like the entire Berlin Wall was falling on his back when Paco placed his legs over Oscar’s spine. Paco was not squeezing yet but the pain was already there. Paco’s quads were as hard as rock, dense and powerful. Still in pain for the savage attack Oscar was trying to push the big quads away before it was too late and indeed it was too late, Paco locked his ankles and squeezed. Pain appeared in Oscar’s face that was watching the floor and with a violent movement went up, he tried to scream but no sound got out. His mouth was already bleeding and Paco was only at the 5% of his power, reaching the full power would have meant the death of Oscar’s. “You are already bleeding, what a pussy!” Paco said with an evil smile. Oscar tried to speak but the words were unpredictable, too much pain, already. Paco increased the pressure more; his quads were full of vein and steel hard, his ankle perfectly locked as they were glued together while Oscar’s core was losing volume, becoming thinner and thinner. Due to the savage strength of the Spanish beast, Oscar’s body began bending upwards like a twig under a foot pressure. “It looks like your body is bending” Paco said. “Mmmhhh, please, let me go!” Oscar moaned in pain. “I am not going to break you now, I want to play with your body, take it to the extreme of its resistance and then I will fucking destroy, you know I can kill you” Paco stated with an evil tone of voice. The pressure grew, the vertebrae kept cracking and Paco released the hold. Oscar’s body got back to the original position with a cracking noise, like a part of engine without any lubricant. Paco stood up, bent over his victim, pulled by his air and lifted up. Suddenly Oscar found himself up in the air in a gorilla press, Paco’s right arm was holding his crotch and the left his chest, and he walked over and over the locker room, proud but at the same time crazy as the devil. The door of the locker room opened and two worshippers entered “the arena”. Paco was standing tall and massive, pressing his prey over the air like a gorilla. “Wow, I want to see this” the blonde guy said. “So do I, my friend, there will be blood” the other guy replied. “There will be many broken bones and Oscar dead” Paco replied. The blonde guy felt his cock becoming hard after Paco’s response. Both of the guys set down on a bench and watched the show like in a theatre, they probably needed some popcorn to enjoy the show. “Ready to land Oscar” Paco asked with a laugh. “Please don’t do it, I beg you” Paco slammed Oscar followed by his heavy body pressing him over the floor, like Bill Goldberg was used to do to his victims. A sound of two heavy body echoed inside the room, dust was spread over the air and the floor lightly cracked under the weight. Oscar screamed and split some blood, Paco laughed. “I guess, you have always desired my body over yours, haven’t you Oscar?” Oscar could not speak a work, Paco’s heavy weight did not allow him to properly breathe. Paco stood up and grabbed Oscar by the testicles that squirted for the iron grip, he was violently brought up. Paco performed an over the knee backbreaker, followed by another and another and yet another. Each time Oscar’s back hit Paco’s knee with a violent slam a scream of pain and blood got out from his mouth, his body bouncing semi lifeless like a weak twig over the giant’s knee. With the last backbreaker Paco screamed: “Get the fuck off my knee, you fucking useless bodybuilder”. Paco threw Oscar over the floor like a bag of potatoes that rolled for some feet like a heavy whiskey barrel. The worshipper were sitting on the bench watching to such power destroying that silver bodybuilder that acted so cocky and that was now paying the fees, entirely. They were excited; their bulges were growing as Paco kept destroying Oscar. Paco easily placed Oscar in a torture rack and began bending the silver daddy’s body. His body was bending easily under Paco’s strength as it was empty of its spinal backbone. Lex Luger was nothing compared to Paco applying that hold. Paco applied a long bending session and at the same time squeezed his right leg that became hard as rock and with all the muscles visible as built with pure har cement with an amount of veins that was incommensurable. Oscar yelled the longest and most painful scream in his entire life. “Now, if you still want to keep on worship me and you do not want to finish like this piece of shit over here, I want to play a game with you guy” Paco said to the two guys. The guys stood up, excited and ready. “What do you want us to do Sir Bautista” they both asked Paco. “I want one of you to grab this prick’s wrists, the other the ankles and to pull his body as hard as you can” Paco said. The two guys ran over Paco, they grabbed the designated part of the body and started pull down the victim while Paco was still torturing Oscar. Oscar’s body bent more almost reaching 180 degrees, he was screaming, spitting blood and saliva and his vertebrae cracked loudly. He lost consciousness.
  11. bbmikenj

    Dork to Beast, Finale

    Once classes started, Danny realized just how much he stood out in the Chemical Engineering department. He outweighed even the biggest of the guys by more than 200lbs of muscle. He saw how they looked at him, some with awe, some with feigned disgust. He was used to the disgust from high school, but now, he reveled in the awe. He realized right away that the TA of one of his labs was one of the awe-struck. The guy was a grad student, so he wasn't much older than Danny, andDanny saw how he looked at him, sneaking furtive glances whenever he could. Danny played on that awe. He stayed after one of the labs ended, because he had a plan. He was hoping that the TA would help him figure out what was in the Black Russian supps that Ivan was getting from eastern Europe. When Danny approached him, Ted, the TA, could barely speak. Danny introduced himself and put out his hand. When they shook, Danny's big muscle paw completely enveloped the TA's soft little hand. The grad student was about 5'5", 140lbs. When Danny grinned down at him, the little guy's knees gave out a little. Danny propped him up against the lab table. Then he got right to the point, pulling out a black pill and asking him how hard it would be to figure out what was in it. The TA took the pill and looked it over. "Probably not very hard," he said. "If I used the mass spectrometer, it would break it down to its components. I'm not supposed to use the equipment for things like that though." "What if we snuck into the lab after classes?" Danny flexed his 24" arm. "We could spend as much time in the lab as you want." The TA gulped hard. "I don't know," he said nervously. Danny, bouncing his 72" chest under his tight tee, said "I'd let you touch." The grad student almost fainted. He looked around the room. "You want to do it tonight?" he said. "I can probably snag the keys from the professor's office." His heart was pounding thru his chest at the thought of being with Danny alone in the lab. "Sounds good," said Danny, running his hand thru his hair, causing his huge arm to bunch up into a big ball. "Oh my god," groaned the young grad student. Danny's powerful pheromones wafted out from his armpit. "You have a poser?" asked the TA, tentatively, bracing himself against the lab table. "Yep," said Danny, reaching out and rubbing his hand along Ted's thin neck. "Would you wear it?" asked Ted, his eye twitching, and goosebumps running up and down his limbs. "Sure. What time tonight?" "Eleven o'clock. The last lab ends at ten." "Ok. Then I'll lift from eight to ten thirty, to maximize my pump." "You're not pumped now?..." The TA's boner was tenting out his white lab coat. "God, no. Just wait till you see. Everything will be inches bigger. I can bloat my quads from 34" to 38" after just two sets of heavy squatting." "....38 inches..." stammered Ted. "Yep. What is that, like ten inches bigger than your waist?" "Yess...." Danny grinned. "I'll see you tonight at eleven, then. Don't pop one out till then, little man." He turned and walked away, as Ted stared in amazement at the size of Danny's back, shoulders, neck, ass, and legs. ... == ... Dwayne's fight night was at a medium sized auditorium downtown. A lot of the guys fighting were amateurs like him, but there were a couple sanctioned fights scheduled for later on the ticket. Dwayne's fight was first. It was his opponent's first real fight too. Dwayne sized him up as they stepped into the octagon they'd set up for the night. The guy was in his early twenties, good build, but nothing overly impressive. He looked like the kind of guy who'd played sports in high school but was never a standout, but had a lot of spunk. He looked a little nervous, especially as he saw Dwayne, who's muscularity was at least 5 times more dense than his. Dwayne didn't have to clench his abs for them to stand out as a taut 8pak. Dwayne saw his opponent looking over at a young woman in the audience. She was a tiny thing, about his age, and looked about 7 months pregnant. The wife, figured Dwayne. He could tell she wasn't thrilled about hubby getting into the ring against him. The fight got started, and it was quickly obvious to everyone that it was a big mismatch. The guy's punches bounced off Dwayne, and Dwayne felt nothing, so he let the guy pound on him for awhile. Then he hit back. His jabs were many times faster than his opponent's, too, but he took care not to punch too hard. He could see the wife flinch every time he hit him. He had to end this one quickly, so he knocked the guy to the ground, got on him, and put him into a choke hold. He pulled the guy close into him, and whispered in his ear as he tightened the choke ever so gently. "Do yourself a favor, and give up fighting, man. You're just gonna get hurt. A guy like me could mess you up bad. Go get a regular job, support your wife and kid." With that, Dwayne tightened his grip just enough to make the pain real to the guy. He turned the guy's face so that he was looking at his wife, and could see her concern. The guy was starting to panic. Dwayne was so strong that it was surreal. He easily flipped the guy around and put him in an arm bar, forcing him to tap instantly. Dwayne helped the guy to his feet, and they shook hands. Dwayne looked over at the wife, and saw the relief on her face. When their eyes met, Dwayne winked at her, and she felt a wave of lust race thru her hormonally flushed body. He was the hottest man she'd ever seen, and she knew he had saved her husband from any real damage, so she blamed her feelings for him on that. Meanwhile, her husband came over to her from the octagon, and hugged her. "I'm done with the fighting," he said, and the wife gave a small wave of thanks to Dwayne. He nodded back. Then he noticed Mr K sitting a couple rows behind her, the same look of lust on his face. This made Dwayne horny, but his gym manager, who was now his fight manager, was talking to him. "That wasn't much of a challenge for you, was it?" he said, laughing. "Nah, man. Just got me all riled up, is all." Dwayne was still looking over at Mr K, hungrily. "Well, I might have good news for you. A guy dropped out of one of the sanctioned fights that's coming up next week. They need a replacement. I volunteered you." "Yeah?" said Dwayne, suddenly interested. "Who'm I fighting?" "This guy Tommy Bell. He's in your weight class, and is 11-0." "Oh yeh? So I'll be breaking his undefeated record?" "You could be. He's pretty tough though. Has been in and out of prison, and has won every fight by KO." "Next week, huh? Gives me time to get even stronger and faster," said Dwayne. He was getting hard just thinking about beating a guy with an 11-0 record. His muscles tightened and rippled in anticipation of what he would do. His manager got goosebumps watching Dwayne's body improve as they stood there. "I gotta go for now, man," Dwayne said to him. Then he made his way over to Mr K, leaned over him and whispered to him, "Let's go somewhere, Mr K. I need some sweet relief from that mouth of yours." Mr K couldn't get up fast enough. He followed Dwayne to the backstage area, where Dwayne broke into an office by snapping the door handle off and forcing the door open with his shoulder. "This oughta do," he said, leading Mr K over to a sofa that lined the wall. As soon as Mr K sat down, Dwayne pulled down his trunks and his big schlong flopped out. He stroked himself a couple of time. "Fuck, I need it bad," he said, as he guided his big dickhead into Mr K's eager mouth. "Did you see me fight that guy down?" Dwayne asked. Mr K nodded as he sucked. "That was just child's play, man. Wait till next week. Fuck, you got a good mouth, Mr K. Funny, cause I remember growing up, how you were always dating those big tittied women, and you were all macho and shit. Now look at you, sucking on me like a newborn calf. You like it, too, don't ya?" Mr K nodded again, still sucking Dwayne's thick knob. He couldn't believe it himself. He'd always been into women. But he couldn't resist Dwayne. And he couldn't get enough of him. He understood addiction now. All he wanted was to service him, to touch his body, smell him, taste him. And Dwayne knew it. "You wanna see me fight again next week?" Dwayne said. "Maybe if you're real good to me, I'll let you come." He flexed his arms over Mr K. "Aw, yeah," he said. "I got a huge load about to fill you up, been feeling my balls churning it out all day." Dwayne tilted his head back, and bucked into Mr K's face. Mr K had never wanted anything more than Dwayne's thick muscle paste. And Dwayne gave it to him, spewing so hard he had to put his hand on the back of Mr K's head to keep his mouth in place. Mr K did his best to swallow the hot nectar the god before him. He did pretty good, considering how much volume there was. Dwayne pulled his head off him. "You sure are hungry for this aren't ya?" Dwayne chuckled, remembering how Mr K had always thought of him as such a dork. Dwayne lifted Mr K up to his face and kissed him. He liked the taste of his jiz in Mr K's mouth, it tasted like cotton candy. No wonder the old guy like it. Mr K almost fainted from the hot young buck tonguing his mouth. Dwayne thought about how he'd gone from goofy dork to supremely handsome and supremely strong. He kissed Mr K deeper, the older man's feet dangling off the ground. Dwayne chuckled to himself as he felt Mr K cum in his pants. His own hardon had gotten even harder. He rested Mr K down on it, and it supported him in the air. "Goddam," said Dwayne after he broke the kiss. "I better head out for tonight, before I decide to ride your ass into the next century." He lifted Mr K up and set him on the desk of the office they were in. As he got dressed, he said, "I'll see you next week at the fight." Then he headed out. Mr K watched him leave. His heart pounded with lust. Next week? Could he last that long without a Dwayne fix? ...===... That night at the lab, Ted was unable to completely decipher what the small black pill was made up of. "We'll have to do more tests," he told Danny, fearful that it would mean that his massive student wouldn't showoff his huge body for him. But Danny didn't care. He was pumped to the max, and was aching to flex anyway. He sat Ted down on a lab chair before stripping down to his poser. "No touching yourself until you find the formula," he said to Ted. Then he flexed his arm an inch away from Ted's nose. It rose up over 25". "Kiss it," said Danny. Ted swallowed hard, then put his lips on the mountain of muscle in his face. Sweat ran down from Danny's deep pits. He smelled of gym and muscle and his own thick musk. "Stop for a second," cried Ted, pulling back from the beast-sized arm. He had to close his eyes for a bit. His heart was beating so fast. He was just starting to get hard, yet he'd almost cum. "Oh, there's no stopping this now, bud," said Danny. "Touch it." And he grabbed Ted's hand on put it on his arm. "Oh god," muttered Ted. Then Danny grabbed the seat of the lab chair, and curled it off the ground until they were face to face. "Oh my fucking god," said Ted. Danny curled him in the chair for reps. Then he sat him down and flexed a double bi shot. Ted's eyes were wide opened now, although one eyelid was twitching at the sight of Danny's massiveness so close to him. He was leaking pre, and it took everything he had not to touch himself. Then Danny turned around, and spread his back. His vast, grand prairie sized back, rolling with thick slabs of muscle that tapered down to his beefy lower back, padded with striations of symmetrical muscle. He made them pop out in a hard flex, and Ted came. There was no stopping it. Ted had no control. His muscle lust took him zooming into a zone of euphoria. Danny spread his back out farther, and Ted fainted, sliding right out of the chair. Danny turned and caught him right before he hit the floor. "Dude, wake up man," said Danny, slapping Ted's face lightly. Ted woke up quickly and found himself looking into Danny's concerned eyes. "Wow... Could you just hold me for a second?" Danny wrapped him up in his huge arms and lifted him up in his hug. Ted was in muscle paradise, swathed up in Danny's tree trunk arms. He never wanted it to end. "I'll figure out the formula for you," he said. "I know you will, Teddy. Right now, I gotta go though." "Where?" "My roommate's waiting for me for a dose of Danny batter. He thinks it's making him stronger and faster." "Is it?" "Yep," said Danny, unwrapping his arms from around Ted and setting him back on the chair. "I'll talk to you later." That's one lucky roommate, thought Ted, as he watched Danny get dressed, and head out of the lab. And that must be one potent chemical, if it can transfer its effects thru Danny's 'batter'. That night, Ted contacted a friend of his who was working on a PhD in Genetics. He enlisted his help in breaking down the little black pill. ...=... The night of Dwayne's next fight came up fast. But he'd had time to have a tailor-made suit custom made to fit him real snug, just like he'd seen McGregor wear at his press conference with Mayweather. Dwayne wore it into the ring, and the crowd went wild. His manager had told him that this Tommy guy didn't want the fight because Dwayne was still a nobody. But then Tommy's manager reminded him that he wouldn't get paid if he didn't fight, so he agreed. He figured it'd be easy money. He'd never seen Dwayne. He would soon though. As Tommy made his way to the ring, Dwayne started flexing in his shiny new suit. The shoulder seams to his jacket started ripping almost immediately. Slow at first, but then faster as he crunched into a most muscular. Dwayne flexed harder. Buttons popped off like bullets. His jacket split up the back. He ripped the shredding jacket off him and tossed the pieces aside. He flexed his arms and made the sleeves of his dress shirt rip as his peaks tore thru the fabric like it was tissue paper. Then he tore his shirt apart like the Hulk, exposing his rockhard torso. As Tommy watched from the apron, befuddled, the crowd was going apeshit. Tommy's slow synapses were trying to process what he was seeing. He'd spent time in juvvie as a teenager, and had been in and out of prison a couple of times, but he'd never seen anyone so jacked up as Dwayne. Tommy stepped into the ring, pretty sure he could handle anyone. He was 11-0, after all. His entourage didn't look so sure. Just like in his first fight, Dwayne noticed Tommy look over at a young woman in the audience. There was a different energy to this couple, though. Dwayne saw a look of fear behind her eyes, the same look he used to get before school, when he knew Tip would be waiting for him. Then he noticed the bruises on her upper arms. He looked at Tommy, and he didn't need to see the skull tattoo on his neck to realize that this goon beat on his girlfriend. Dwayne felt the heat building up inside him. This cocky tool was going to be taught a lesson. When the fight started, Dwayne let Tommy hit him a couple of times without trying to block the blows. Tommy was more confused than ever. His powerful jabs didn't seem to hurt his opponent in the least. So he whirled at him with his roundhouse kick, hitting him right in the side. Dwayne didn't flinch. It was like he had on Batman's mech suit, but it was just his own dense rockhard muscle. Tommy felt like he'd broken his shin bone. He hobble back in pain, and looked over to his corner, where his manager just shrugged and urged him to go back at him. But Dwayne was already coming at him, and threw a jab of his own, hitting Tommy right in his sternum. The jab was so strong and sharp, it knocked the wind out of Tommy. He staggered back against the cage. Dwayne was on him in a flash, picking him up and throwing him to the ground. Then he got on top of him and rode him around the octagon. Tommy had never felt such controlling strength. None of the moves he tried to escape Dwayne's holds had any effect at all. And each hold was more painful than the last. Tommy was in a panic to get away from him, even for a second, but Dwayne was having none of it. He worked him and worked him, then would pick him up and slam him back to the ring, then get right back on top of him. Finally, he put him in a rear naked choke. He leaned into Tommy's ear and said, "This is what happens to guys who hurt women." He maneuvered Tommy so he was facing away from the ref. Then he pulled on Tommy's arm until it popped out of his shoulder joint. Dwayne had one hand over Tommy's mouth, to muffle the scream. Tommy tried to tap out, but Dwayne had his hands trapped so tightly, he couldn't move them. "It's gonna hurt even more, going back in," Dwayne said to him. And he was right. He shoved the ball of Tommy's arm bone back into joint, and Tommy almost passed out. Dwayne flipped Tommy over on his back and mounted him, bending Tommy's ankles up behind his ears. Dwayne leaned into him hard, folding him almost flat on the mat. Again, he whispered in his ear, "If you hurt your girlfriend again, I'll come after you. And it will make what's happening here seem like a picnic." Dwayne pinned him down harder. "Then I'll make you change your first name to Tinker. How ya think 'Tinker Bell' will go over on the fight circuit?" Tommy was drenched in sweat, and gasping for air as Dwayne pressed against his ribcage with his superhuman strength. Then Dwayne stood up over him. He grabbed Tommy around the throat with one hand, then lifted him off the ground and into the air. He walked around the ring holding Tommy up, while flexing his other arm. The crowd was in a frenzy, even as the ref warned Dwayne about the choke hold. Dwayne looked at the ref, then dropped Tommy to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Dwayne jumped onto him, wrapped his legs around his torso, and pulled Tommy's right arm into an arm bar. Pain seared thru Tommy's radial nerve. This time, Dwayne let Tommy tap out. Then he released the hold and stood up. The ref took his arm and raised it in victory. Dwayne flexed into his most-muscular pose for the crowd, as it roared in approval. Tommy looked up at his vanquisher. He'd never been turned onto a man before, yet, despite his physical pain, he felt himself getting aroused as Dwayne's superior, muscular body flexed over him. Tommy would never have sex again without thinking of Dwayne in order to finish. ...==... A couple of days later, Danny texted Dwayne to meet him at the park. He had something important to tell him. When Danny pulled up, Dwayne was already there, wearing just his fighting shorts, and doing one-finger pull-ups at the fitness trail. "Hey, Bruiser," said Danny as he walked up to him. "I hear the fight went well." "Short and sweet, just like they'll all be. I'm switching to parkour." "Oh yeah? You gonna be leaping over tall buildings in a single bound?" "Don't laugh," said Dwayne, dropping off the pull-up bar. Veins ran up and down his arms, across his delts, and into his chest. "How's Jake?" "Hot as hell. And he loves it when I breed him." "As he should. You still on the wrestling team?" "Nah, I gave that up. Who's gonna beat these?" said Danny, flexing his arms. "They're peaking up to 26 inches now. "Bearhug me with them," challenged Dwayne. Danny grinned, then stepped up to Dwayne, and wrapped his massive arms around him. Then he squeezed. "Damn you are solid," said Danny, as he hoisted Dwayne off the ground. "Hell yeah, I am," said Dwayne, kissing Danny on his 24" neck. "Squeeze harder." Danny wrapped his arms around him harder. He'd be crushing most guy like a tube of toothpaste with the force he was applying, but Dwayne seemed unaffected. "And now I know why," said Danny. He liked how much strength he could use on Dwayne. It turned him on. That, and Dwayne's sucking on his thick bull neck. "Those grad students I told you about? They found out why Ivan's stuff works so well." "Yeah?" said Dwayne. Then he started sucking on Danny's earlobe. "Harder, man." Danny squeezed harder, his forearms bulging to 19 inches. "Yeah. It completely shuts down the myostatin gene and allows for unfettered growth of muscle and strength." "No shit? Can they replicate it?" "Yeah, they think they can." Danny dug his clamped fists deeper into Dwayne's lower back. "Why you think I'm not slabbing on mass like you?" asked Dwayne. "I'm not sure, but you're at least as strong as I am, and I'm pretty sure you've got other skills coming on strong." "Yeah, you're right. What's Ivan think about these guys making the stuff?" Both of them were sweating now, making it harder to grip onto Dwayne's granite muscle. They were both hard. "He's happy he won't have to go back to Poland anytime soon." "I bet...Harder, man, I'm starting to feel it now." Danny grunted and squeezed. Dwayne arched back in the bearhug. "Oh yeh, bro, that's is power!" They turned their heads toward each other and kissed. When they broke off the kiss, Dwayne said, "I've been hooking up with your dad." "Yeah, I know," said Danny, and then he kissed Dwayne again. "I've seen him getting more muscular, just like Jack. I caught him flexing in the mirror the other day." "I know. It's hot as fuck." "Dad thinks you can read his mind, maybe even control his thoughts." "Maybe a little. I think it's more the power of suggestion. Although sometimes, when I want his tongue to go to a specific spot, it goes right there. It's like I'm guiding it with my mind." "That's wild." "I know. Hey, you squeezing as hard as you can yet?" "Almost," said Danny. "Go full bore, I wanna try something." Danny tightened his grip around Dwayne and squeezed him in with his huge sweaty arms. Both of them grunted. Then Dwayne, with his arms trapped to his sides, started pushing outward with them. At first nothing happened, but then Dwayne felt Danny's arms open up a little from the pressure. Dwayne pushed harder, and Danny felt his grip slipping. Danny's neck veins popped out as he tried to maintain his hold, but Dwayne's arm strength pushed his hands apart. Dwayne was now able to move his arms, and he slid his hands up to the crook of Danny's elbows, and broke his bearhug. Dwayne's feet hit the ground, and he stepped back out of Danny's hold. "Dude, geezus," said Danny, huffing, his thick torso red and welted from holding Dwayne so hard. "I can't believe it either. You're so huge." Dwayne's torso was also reddened and welted. Sweat rolled off of him. "And you got freak strength, man." "I know. And I can feel it growing. Follow me." Dwayne led Danny over to an old wrought iron fence that bordered one side of the park. It lined the property of an old mansion that was on the other side. Dwayne went up to the fence, grabbed a railing in each hand, and ripped a four foot section of the fence out of the ground, and yanked it free of the rest of the fence. He held it out at arm's length and began to press in on it. Cords of muscle popped out all over his forearms and delts. Striations rippled across his chest. He bent over slightly as the iron began to fold in like an accordion, and his lats flared out with his effort. The four foot section soon became a two foot section. He bent over farther, and his abs crunched out like big cobblestones, as the fencing bunched up on itself like a cheap window blind until it was compressed to one foot. Dwayne lifted it into the air like a trophy. Then he tossed it to Danny, who caught it one-handed. He wrapped his fingers around the end pieces and pulled. The wrought iron began to open back up, creaking loudly as it did. Danny pulled and pulled, stretching the iron like taffy, his huge arms and chest swelling, until it became a five foot section of misshapen metal. "You ain't weak, either," Dwayne said to him. "Bro... I feel like...." Danny said, holding the iron fence in one arm and curling it slow and hard, watching his biceps swell to 27 inches. "Breaking into the mansion?" "Yeah....and then..." "Fucking each others' brains out?" "You reading my mind?" "Nah, I'm just thinking the same way. And I want to..." "Fuck in every room of the place?" "Shit, yeah. Now who's reading who?" The two of them walked thru the opening in the fence. Danny jammed the twisted up section back into place the best he could. They headed up the hill toward the empty house. The front gate had a For Sale sign on it. "You know what we should do?" said Danny, as they climbed the front steps. "Turn this place into a private gym," said Dwayne. "Fuck, you are reading my mind, you freak," said Danny. Dwayne laughed. "I know, but it is an awesome idea. We can get your dad to invest in it. And we'll only let in geeks and dorks. Build them up huge and powerful. Maybe even psychic." "Exactly. And Ted thinks they can make an even stronger formula. Imagine what could happen." "Dude. It'll be like Hogwarts for future muscle monsters." They kissed again on the front porch. Then Danny got ready to slam his basketball-sized shoulder into the front door. "Wait," said Dwayne. He grabbed the realtor's box that was hanging on the front doorknob between his thumb and index finger and crushed it until the key fell out. "You got finesse," said Danny. "Just don't wanna damage the goods," said Dwayne, opening the door. "Let's go see the future." And the two of them stepped inside.
  12. * FINALLY FINISHED * This Chapter is the very first one with NONE of the JP story in it at all, but I will fill a gap in Chapter 21: between JP and Matt's workout at JP's house and heading to the park to meet Andrew and his friends. Once JP and Matt were done playing football with Andrew, Mike and Carrie, they decided to get changed before having supper at JP's house with his parents and Matt's mom. "Matt and I brought a change of clothes with us," JP said, as he and Matt held up their backpacks. "But I'm guessing that you three left your good clothes back at your hotel." "Yes we did JP," Andrew said, "But I brought a Washington Area map with me so that we could find our way here from our hotel." He unfolded the map on his truck hood and pointed to the pink line that went along the roads from the Comfort Inn Pentagon City to Burke Lake Park. He handed JP a pink highlighter and added, "All you have to do now JP is trace the route from here to your house on the map." "Why did you choose a pink highlighter to mark the map with Andrew?" JP asked him with a slight frown. "It's the only colour that wasn't already on the map, so it will stand out," Andrew replied. "I didn't pick that colour to make a crack at you and Matt, if that's what you're thinking." "Actually I was for an instant Andrew," JP conceded, lowering his eyes to the map to hide his embarrassment at being wrong. Then he looked back up at Andrew and added, "I'm sorry about that man." "Don't you know me better than that JP?" Andrew asked him with a hurt look on his face. "I'd never make fun of someone else's choice of partners! I'm not your brother Ryan you know!" "Yeah I do know that Andrew, but I'm just really nervous about anyone else finding out about me and Matt," JP revealed in a very soft voice. Andrew leaned closer to make sure he could hear everything JP was about to say. As he continued tracing the route to his house and filled in the address, he added, "With all the people who have found out today: Matt's mom, you and Carrie, I don't know how much longer we can keep the secret from getting out." "Well don't worry JP, I won't tell anyone: certainly not your parents at dinner tonight," Andrew promised him. "You can trust me like a brother; I hope you know that." "I do Andrew," JP assured him, breathing a big sigh of relief. He set down the highlighter after he finished tracing the route to his house: which was in the subdivision north of the park. "Now, onto a different subject Andrew." His big friend nodded in agreement and stood up to his full height. "As you can see from the map Andrew, my house is in the triangle formed by Burke Lake Road, the Fairfax County Parkway and Ox Road." "I have eyes JP!" Andrew teased him. JP looked up from the map and grinned as he saw Andrew smiling at him. "You know Andrew, even with the map highlighted, you might have a hard time finding my house without my help. Why don't Matt and I follow you guys back to your hotel in his car. Then all you'll have to do is follow me back to my house." "Good idea man," Andrew agreed, looking at his watch. "It's 3 pm now; what time are your parents expecting us for supper?" "5:30," JP replied. "Let's go back to your hotel where we can all get changed. Then Matt and I can show you three around the Springfield Mall and our other favourite hangouts before we head back to my house for supper." "Good ideas JP," Andrew said. "Let's go," he added, folding up the map and opening the driver's door of his truck. Carrie got into the passenger seat and Mike got into the back seat. Everyone closed their doors and wound down their windows. JP stood beside Andrew's window and said, "You lead the way to your hotel Andrew; I'll be right behind you." Andrew smirked at his choice of words. "I didn't mean it that way Andrew!" JP chuckled, feeling his face turn red with embarrassment. "But I'll expect you to be right behind me when we leave your hotel!" "Funny man JP, but I'm a giver, not a taker!" Andrew laughed, hoping to ease JP's embarrassment. His ploy worked as he saw the redness fade from JP's face. "Let's see if you can keep up with me," Andrew bragged, proving that JP wasn't the only one who could use double meanings. JP laughed as he headed to his car and Andrew started his engine. Once JP and Matt got into his car, Andrew pulled out of the parking lot and onto Ox Road. He turned right onto Burke Lake Road and headed northeast towards the intersection with Braddock Road. JP stayed right behind him as they headed northeast, passing a few houses on their left side. "I just thought of something Andrew," Carrie said suddenly. Andrew looked over at her briefly and saw her looking very thoughtful. He waited for a few seconds for her to speak and then prompted her, "Well don't keep it to yourself Carrie, unless it's something I shouldn't know." "It is something you should know, but JP forgot to tell us," Carrie said. "What's that?" Andrew asked her. "JP never told us if his parents know we're coming for supper or how much they know about us," Carrie replied. "I'm sure he asked them if we could come over for supper, but you're right: we don't know what he told them about us," Andrew realized. "I wonder if JP let them know that he thinks of me as his honorary big brother." "I don't know Andrew, but we should ask him when we get back to our hotel," Carrie decided. After about ten minutes, Andrew turned right onto Braddock Road and headed east towards the Capitol Beltway: specifically Interstate 495. "Hey JP, Andrew's taking Braddock Road towards the Beltway: a route we know very well," Matt said. "Yeah and he seems to know where he's going, probably because he highlighted the route from his hotel to the park," JP informed him. "He's probably back-tracking." He noticed Matt looking confused, so he elaborated, "He's retracing his route back to his hotel." Matt nodded in understanding as JP mentally kicked himself for forgetting that his boyfriend wasn't a genius like him. After another couple of minutes, the ramps of the Capitol Beltway came into view and Andrew took the southbound ramp of Exit 54B onto I-495. "Now we head south to Exit 57, which we will take onto Interstate 395 northbound," Carrie informed him, looking down at the map in her lap. "Thanks Carrie," Andrew said, keeping his eyes on the interstate traffic as he carefully merged with it. "This traffic is really heavy; it's worse than driving on the 401 in Toronto!" "Don't tell me that you're nervous Andrew!" Carrie teased him, trying to put him at ease. "You can flatten linebackers effortlessly in football games! Is my huge muscular man scared of a few little cars that he could probably overturn with no effort at all?" "Ok Carrie, I know what you're doing, and it's working," Andrew laughed. "Thank you for helping me relax; I'll have to reward you for that later." "How about we shower together back at the hotel and you can show me how grateful you are," Carrie suggested with a sexy smile. "Okay Carrie, but don't distract me too much with sex talk on this busy highway," Andrew ordered her. He smirked as he noticed her staring at his crotch and then swiftly caught her hand as she reached for the waistband of his gym shorts. "Don't even think about giving me Road Head Carrie; it would be too dangerous in this traffic!" Mike burst out laughing from the backseat and Andrew glared at him in the rear view mirror. "Shut up man; you're not helping!" "It's your fault for speaking your thoughts Andrew, when you should have kept them inside your head!" Mike chuckled. Carrie burst out laughing at his choice of words and Andrew finally cracked a smile: realizing that they had teamed up to make him relax. "Okay guys, it worked: I'm relaxed now," Andrew assured them. "Are you happy now?" "I'll only be happy when I can feel the soft touch of my big man in the shower," Carrie informed him. "You won't have long to wait for that Carrie, as long as you keep your eyes on the road so that we don't miss our exit," Andrew reminded her. Carrie smiled as she looked back at the road and imagined all the fun she and Andrew would have in their hotel shower later. Once JP's car and Andrew's truck got to the intersection of I-495 and I-395, they turned onto I-395 and took it northeast towards Alexandria, passing the Landmark Mall and skirting the northern Edge of the city. They finally reached Andrew's hotel at the Glebe Road exit and pulled into the parking lot. "There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Andrew asked as he got out of his truck. "Whatever you say 'Mr Scott,'" JP laughed, recognizing Andrew's quote from Relics: a Star Trek Next Generation Episode. "So, now that we're here which rooms should Matt and I shower and get changed in?" "Mike's room," Andrew replied. "Carrie and I are going to have fun together alone in our hotel room." He glanced over at Carrie with a suggestive smirk, and she returned it with one of her own. Then Andrew turned back to JP and said, "Let's go upstairs now and we'll meet in the lobby in half an hour." JP nodded in agreement as he and Matt followed Andrew into the lobby and up the stairs to his room. "Were you afraid that our combined weight would be too much for the elevator Andrew?" JP asked him with a joking grin. "No JP!" Andrew laughed. "I just figured that star athletes like us don't take the elevator. That's something lazy people would do!" JP laughed as Mike opened the door and waved to Andrew as he and Matt followed Mike inside. "Alone at last Carrie," Andrew said, picking Carrie up effortlessly and taking her into his room. He closed the door with his free hand and began kissing Carrie softly as they headed into the bathroom. "I hope you're going to do more than kiss me Big Man," Carrie teased him with a sexy smile. "I'll hug you as well Carrie," Andrew promised her. "I want you to fondle me," Carrie ordered him. "Maybe later Carrie; I don't want to risk hurting you and the shower is going to be awfully slippery once it's all wet," Andrew reminded her, turning it on. "And so will you Andrew; I'll make sure of that!" Carrie chuckled. "Well then, you'd better start right now Carrie," Andrew decided, making sure the bathroom door was closed. He smirked as Carrie struggled to take off his skintight t-shirt. "What's the matter Carrie: is my t-shirt too tight for you to get off?" "Yes it is Andrew, so I'll let you do it," Carrie chuckled, as Andrew peeled off his t-shirt. "I'll have to figure out some other way to make you happy." "I certainly will be if you keep doing what you're doing Carrie," Andrew assured her, as she began fondling his massive pecs and eight-pack abs. "You mean if I keep doing you," Carrie suggested with a sexy smirk as her soft hands continued to explore his massive muscles. "I don't think that would be a good idea Carrie, at least not until we're both legally consenting adults," Andrew said seriously. Carrie nodded in agreement, not knowing the real reason Andrew was reluctant to have sex with her: he was afraid he would hurt her with his great size and strength. "I'll just keep massaging your massive muscles Big Man." "Yeah Carrie, you've waited since this morning to worship my massive muscles, haven't you?" Andrew asked her with a cocky smirk. "Yeah I have Big Man," Carrie replied, closing her eyes in pleasure as Andrew gently massaged her face and neck. She quivered in anticipation as Andrew bent down and gently kissed her. As his massive arms came gently around her slender frame, Carrie felt tears running down her face. "I love you so much Andrew, and it only grows deeper the more intimate we become!" "Well don't worry Carrie, I'll make sure it gets better each time," Andrew promised her, gently wiping her tears of happiness off her face. "I look forward to it Andrew, and it will be great when we go all the way: hopefully before Christmas," Carrie hoped. Andrew smiled and nodded: feeling nervous about having sex with Carrie for the first time, but only because he was afraid that he would accidentally hurt her with his great strength. Knowing how irresistible his massive muscles were for her, Andrew no longer had any doubts about performing up to and beyond Carrie's expectations. For the next 20 minutes, Andrew and Carrie fondled, hugged and kissed as they had their shower. Then they got changed into their clothes for dinner. They made sure they had their ID and US money and then stepped out into the hallway, locking the door behind them. "Oh, no one to meet us," Andrew said, as he noticed that the other three were not out of their hotel room yet. "Good, that means they aren't ready yet, so we were still able to beat them even though we had fun with each other in the shower," Carrie said. "Yeah, but they had to take their showers one at a time," Andrew realized. "That means it took twice as long." "Don't you mean three times as long Andrew?" Carrie corrected him. Andrew shook his head with a slight smile and Carrie nodded in sudden understanding, realizing that JP and Matt had probably taken their shower together. "Sorry about my mistake Andrew." "No problem Carrie," Andrew assured her. "Now I'm going to see if they're ready." But he didn't get the chance; as soon as he stepped up to the room next door, the door opened and JP stepped out. "Hey Andrew, I see you and Carrie are all ready for dinner," he said. "Yes we are JP; are you and Matt ready to lead us to the Springfield Mall?" Andrew asked him. "Yes Andrew, but I was hoping I could ride alone with you," JP requested. "I'd like to prepare you for the reception you'll face at my parents house. Matt can follow us with Carrie and Mike in my car." "That's fine with me JP," Andrew agreed, after Carrie nodded in approval. "Let's go." As they walked down the hall to the elevator, Carrie smiled at Andrew, very happy that she had such a great boyfriend. JP led them to the elevator, and the doors opened as they approached. A crowd of people got off the elevator and then the five teenagers stepped inside. Andrew pressed the lobby button and the elevator doors closed. After the doors closed and the elevator began to descend, Mike said to JP, "My older brother's name is Matt." "That's good Mike; what does he do?" JP asked him. "He's in the Infantry in the Canadian Army," Mike replied proudly. "He's one of Andrew's instructors during his reserve weekends." JP nodded as the elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal the hotel lobby. As he led the way across the lobby to the front doors, he said, "We'll make the Springfield Mall our first stop," he added, looking down at Andrew's map. "Will we see any of your friends there JP?" Andrew asked. "No I don't think so Andrew," JP replied. "I never see much of them during the summer." He pushed open the front door and led everyone outside. "See you at my house Matt and be careful driving my car." "I will JP," Matt promised him, waving goodbye. "Since you commented on my car when I arrived at the park earlier, you won't have any trouble finding it in the parking lot JP," Andrew said. JP nodded and tried to figure out how to tell Andrew what he had noticed without making his huge friend mad. Once they got to Andrew's truck, JP took a deep breath and said, "I have something to tell you Andrew, but I don't know how you'll react." "Then you'd better tell me now, before we get in the truck JP," Andrew warned him. "That way, you won't be trapped in a confined space with me if you make me mad." "OK Andrew: here goes," JP said, screwing up his courage. "Basically, when you were bragging about the fun you were going to have with Carrie in your hotel room, you were acting just like Ryan does." "Again with your brother JP," Andrew sighed in exasperation. He opened his truck door and added, "I really hope I get to meet him, considering how obsessed with him you are. From what you've told me, he sounds a lot like some teammates of mine who are arrogant jocks." "Ryan used to be on the wrestling team with me before he focused only on football," JP said as Andrew started the truck. "Now he has a full ride to Virginia Tech." "Are you proud of him for that?" Andrew asked him as they pulled out of the parking lot. "I would be if he wasn't such an arrogant prick about it!" JP snapped. "He took off a summer road trip without even telling our parents where he was going! They just hope that he makes it to Tech in time for the first football practice." "You know, since he's an incoming Freshman, he'll probably be Red-shirted," Andrew informed him. He noticed JP grinning and added, "That should knock his ego down a notch or two." JP's grin widened as he realized that Andrew had once again found a way to make him feel better. Then he suddenly realized something else. "Hey Andrew, does that mean that you won't get any playing time in your freshman college season either?" "I will get some playing time if we win the Provincial Championship this fall JP," Andrew predicted with a cocky smirk. "However, we'll have to wait to see how much playing time the football coaches at Ohio State offer me." He noticed JP's grin turn into an excited smile at the mention of the school he wanted to go to for college wrestling. "Consider my recruiting visits this summer practice for yours next summer JP," Andrew advised him. "By bringing you along with me, you'll be on the radar of the college wrestling coaches and maybe they'll come see some of your matches this fall. Make sure you wear your varsity wrestling jacket on my recruiting visits and bring your District Finalist medal as well." "I will Andrew," JP promised his big friend, really happy that Andrew was preparing him early for his college career. "After supper, I'll get my jacket and medal out of my room for the road trip that starts tomorrow. Did you bring your football jacket with you Andrew?" "Yeah man, it's in the back of the truck in my gym bag," Andrew replied with a smug grin. "I'll probably wear it at the mall; it should be cool enough in there." "Good, then we can see how close in colour scheme they are," JP said, suddenly remembering that Andrew's school colours were blue and white just like his. As they approached the Capitol Beltway, Andrew said, "There's a question I've been meaning to ask you JP." "You want to know how much my parents know about you," JP guessed. When Andrew nodded, JP added, "You also want to know if I got their permission to go on your recruiting visits with you." "And what is the answer to those two questions JP?" Andrew asked him with a big grin. "I'll tell you right now Andrew," JP replied. "We should be at the Springfield Mall by the time I'm done." Andrew nodded at him to go ahead and JP began speaking. ================================================================================================================================================= A few hours before, JP and Matt had gone over to JP's house for their daily morning workout in JP's basement gym. Then they went upstairs to shower and change for lunch with JP's parents. They came downstairs to find JP's parents finishing the lunch preparations in the kitchen. "Good morning JP," his mom Maureen greeted him. "Did you and Matt have fun last night at the National Mall?" "Yes we did Mom, though there was one unpleasant incident that had a positive outcome." "What happened son?" his dad Paul asked him, as his wife ushered them into the dining room for lunch. "A big college guy and his friend were sexual harassing Chrissy so I intervened," JP replied as he sat down at the dining room table. He noticed his dad's face clouding with rage so he hurried on with the story. "One of the big guys wanted to fight me, so when he went to punch me I twisted his arm behind his back, put him in a choke hold and threw him to the ground. Chrissy thanked me after they ran away and then we suddenly noticed two huge guys approaching us. I was about to fight them too, but Chrissy told me that they had been approaching to help her out before I got there. I thanked the huge guys for being ready to help Chrissy out and then Matt and I introduced ourselves to them. We got to know them better throughout the evening and they watched the fireworks with us later, after introducing us to their friend Carrie of course." "And what are the names of these two huge heroes?" JP's dad asked him with a big grin. "Andrew Pearson and Mike Stevenson," JP replied with a proud grin. "Andrew Pearson: the YouTube High School Football Star from Orillia, Ontario, Canada?" JP's mom asked in astonishment. "That's what I asked and Andrew confirmed it," JP replied. He turned to his dad and added, "He's a really great guy Dad and I got to know him quite well in the half hour before the fireworks started." After telling his parents everything he and Andrew had talked about, he showed them the pictures and videos he had taken of Andrew the night before. Then he concluded the story by saying, "I told Andrew that I'd ask you two if he could come over for dinner tonight with his friends to meet you and Matt's mom." "Well considering all that you've told us about him, that sounds like a great idea son," Maureen said, as they continued eating lunch. She looked over at Paul, who nodded in agreement, and added, "He sounds like a great role model for you and I'm glad that his success hasn't gone to his head." "It sounds to me like Andrew could teach your brother Ryan a thing or two about what being a big brother is all about," Paul said with pride in his eyes. "We'd be honored to have a famous Canadian high school football star eat dinner with us tonight." JP grinned, knowing that those words were high praise indeed coming from his dad. "Did you say that Andrew and his friends are going on recruiting visits throughout the Mid-West this week?" "Yeah Dad, but I guess I forgot to tell you what Andrew offered to do for me and Matt," JP realized. "Did Andrew offer to take you two on his recruiting visits with him?" Paul guessed with a glowing grin of pride. JP nodded and Paul shouted, "I knew it! Andrew is indeed the role model you need right now and he's thought of everything to help you secure your college wrestling career!" "You sound more excited about it than I am Dad!" JP teased him. "I am excited JP; Andrew's going to help your college wrestling dreams come true," Paul predicted. "He's really filling the role of the big brother very well so far. We'll have to talk to him over supper of course, but I can't think of anyone I'd rather have looking after you than Andrew Pearson." "I don't need anyone to look after me Dad, not after I took down that punk who was bugging Chrissy last night!" JP informed his dad with a glare. He flexed his biceps and snarled, "I can take care of myself and anyone who cares to test that theory is going to regret it!" "I should have chosen my words more carefully son, but so should you," Paul warned him with a frown. "I hope you don't try to start anything with Andrew; judging by his size, he could crush you like a paper cup!" "And Ryan too!" JP predicted with a cocky smirk. "Stop it son!" Maureen shouted angrily. "Ryan may have been acting like a jerk for the last few years but he's still your brother. He might need you one day, so don't turn your back on him now." Mrs. Maloney had no idea how prophetic those words were, but in a couple of years they would all find out. "Okay Mom, I understand," JP said, mostly to placate her because he couldn't imagine a future where he and Ryan would ever be close again. "I'll think about what you said and try to think of Ryan as my brother and not my rival." "Good for you son," Paul commended him. "But speaking of rivals, both you and Andrew lost your respective championships last season, didn't you?" "Yeah Dad, but why are you bringing that up now?" JP asked. "Maybe during your road trip this week, you and Andrew can mentor each other on how to win your respective championships this season," Paul replied. "I could also give you two some tips during supper tonight." "Good idea Dad," JP said sheepishly, looking down at his plate as he finished his lunch. "I'll tell your ideas to Andrew when I see him at Burke Lake Park this afternoon." "Good for you son: you're including him in your workouts," Paul said approvingly. "After supper you should show Andrew your basement weight room and the wrestling room at school." "More good ideas Dad," JP agreed, as he and Matt stood up from the table. "Can Matt and I head over to the park now to meet Andrew and his friends?" "As soon as you call your mother Matt," Maureen replied, standing up to collect the lunch dishes. "Invite her over for supper and you can tell her all about meeting Andrew and his friends last night." Matt nodded and went into the living room to make the call. His mom agreed to come over to JP's house for supper that night and told him, rather hesitantly, to have fun with JP and his new friends in the park that afternoon. Then Matt and JP said goodbye to JP's parents and headed over to Burke Lake Park to go running with Andrew and his friends. ============================================================================================================================================= "Good story JP," Andrew commended him, as they pulled into the Springfield Mall parking lot. "Well, here we are at the Springfield Mall." The 2006 sign below is only one year after my story takes place: July 2005. "I have eyes Andrew!" JP teased him, throwing Andrew's earlier line back in his face and pointing to the mall sign. Andrew grinned at him and then noticed JP's car pull up beside them with Matt, Carrie and Mike inside. "Hey Matt, I see you made it okay." "Yes I did JP; so what will we do in the mall for the next hour or so?" Matt asked him. "We'll just walk around and stretch from our workout this morning and our jogging this afternoon," JP replied. Then he got out of Andrew's truck and turned around to see Andrew putting on his blue and white ODCVI Varsity football jacket. "And now I know what Andrew's going to do: show off his jock status to all the people on the mall." "Yeah JP, I have to give into the jock image sometime so it might as well be right now," Andrew informed him with a cocky smirk. He locked his truck and added, "I'm ready if you are JP." "Yeah I am Andrew," JP said, following Andrew to the nearest mall entrance. Andrew led the way into the mall and headed for the food court, once he checked the directory to find out where it was. "Supper's not for a couple of hours Andrew." "Yeah I know, but I haven't eaten since lunch so I'm starving man," Andrew informed him. "These huge muscles need constant fuel to stay well maintained." "I can understand that man, but no one could miss how well maintained your huge muscles are. There should be a Five Guys in the food court." Once they got to the food court they realized that there was no Five Guys there. "It looks like you made a mistake JP: there's no Five Guys here," Mike said. "Thank you Captain Obvious," JP snapped. "I don't suppose you can tell me where the nearest Five Guys is?" "You're the one who lives in this area JP; you tell us," Mike dared him, not letting JP know that he knew the answer. "Right across the Interstate on Old Keene Mill Road," JP suddenly remembered. "Let's go: I'll show you guys my favourite restaurant." "And then I can return the favour if you ever come up to Orillia," Andrew offered. Everyone nodded in agreement and then retraced their steps back to their cars. As they walked, JP realized that there was something different about Andrew, but he couldn't put his finger on it. His huge friend seemed taller than he had been before their visit to he hotel, and there was a nagging sound that JP had constantly heard since they had entered the mall. JP slowed, lost in thought, and then looked ahead at Andrew. He finally noticed the source of the nagging sound he had heard. "You're wearing cowboy boots Andrew: that's why you're suddenly taller," JP realized. "Am I?" Andrew asked, looking down. "Oh yeah I am. But then I've always worn cowboy boots since Grade Five, so I didn't even notice. I only wear shoes when I have to dress up, work out or play sports. And the reason that I'm noticeably taller is because the heels on my boots are three inches, not the normal inch and a half. So I stand 6 foot 10 with my boots on: making me the same height as the Undertaker. So I may have to duck my head to get into your house." "Don't worry about it Andrew; you look really cool and tough," JP commended him. "It's no wonder everyone we've passed has stared at you in awe and fear!" "Don't forget about yourself JP; you attract a lot of attention as well," Andrew reminded him. "Yeah I noticed that yesterday at the National Mall and on the train," JP said, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Don't feel embarrassed JP; it comes with the territory of being a top athlete," Andrew informed him. "Just wait until the interviews start!" "You've had interviews Andrew?" JP asked him in astonishment. "Yeah man, I was Athlete of the Week on VR News at the end of the last football season," Andrew replied with a smug grin. "Then the college recruiting visits started a few months ago." "Which schools did you visit this spring Andrew?" JP asked him, as they reached Andrew's truck. "Penn State, West Virginia, Clemson, Georgia Tech, Alabama, Florida and Miami," Andrew replied, his smug grin morphing into a cocky smile. "But those were Junior Day visits, held during March Break. I was one of only 50 high school junior athletes at those events." They got into Andrew's truck and he started it. "The first visits to the schools just for me start tomorrow when we visit Ohio State." "You mean The Ohio State," JP corrected him as they pulled out of the parking lot. Andrew smiled and nodded; realizing that of course JP would know the proper name of the school he wanted to wrestle at during his college years. "What other schools are we visiting this week Andrew?" "Notre Dame and the University of Michigan," Andrew replied, pleased that he would be able to visit three US Football schools that week. "I would have visited Michigan State as well, but they don't offer tours of their football stadium. An Unofficial Visit isn't much good without being able to tour the stadium where I might play college football one day." As they drove across the bridge over the Interstate, JP asked, "Will we spend one night at each school Andrew?" "That's the plan JP, but I'll have to check Mapquest to be sure," Andrew replied. "From what I remember though, the first leg of the trip takes us to Ohio State in six and a half hours. We'll pass halfway between Pittsburgh and Morgantown on Interstate 70 westbound." "And I'm guessing that the schedule is more flexible since we're driving," JP guessed, as they stopped at the red light at the west end of the bridge. Andrew nodded in agreement as the light turned green and they were able to turn left before the oncoming traffic started moving. Andrew parked his truck in front of the Five Guys restaurant and waited for Matt to pull up beside him in JP's dark green Geo Prism. Then everyone went into the restaurant and lined up behind an older couple until it was time to order their food. The guys at the counter soon took their order, staring at JP in awe and Andrew in fear. Andrew felt exasperated that he got the same reaction everywhere he went but he was also relieved that JP was diverting some of the attention off of him. As they waited to pick up their order, Andrew sent Mike to pick a table for them with Matt and Carrie. Then he turned back to JP and noticed him glancing warily around the restaurant. "What is it JP; what has you so nervous?" Andrew asked, though he could guess. "I'm making sure no one from school is in here," JP replied. "I'm really popular there, even more so now than my brother, and since we have a supper timing to meet, I don't want there to be any more delays." He smirked as Andrew grinned at his use of a military phrase. "Just a phrase I picked up from my dad Andrew." Andrew nodded with a smile and hen turned back to the counter to pick up their order. JP breathed a sigh of relief: pleased that Andrew hadn't figured out that JP didn't want anyone from school telling Ryan about his new friend Andrew. But his hopes were dashed as he turned towards their table and noticed a huge familiar figure coming through the front door. "Oh no," JP groaned in dismay; not pleased at all to see his brother's former teammate on the football team. "Let's get to our table Andrew, before he sees us." "Who are you talking about JP?" Anew asked, as they reached their table. "It's Tyler Backton: Ryan's teammate on the football team," JP replied, putting a hand to his forehead in dismay as they sat down. "Of all the people I didn't want to see today, he's the one who could tell Ryan all about you!" "Maybe if he tells Ryan that I took over his role as your big brother, it will shame Ryan into reclaiming it," Andrew suggested hopefully. "Don't worry JP; I'll stand up and hopefully my size will scare Ryan once he hears about it." He stood up, revealing himself and drawing Tyler's attention. Tyler's eyes widened in astonishment at Andrew's size and he carefully approached JP's table. "Hey JP, who's your big friend?" Tyler asked hesitantly once he has stopped beside JP's table. "It's huge friend actually, and his name is Andrew Pearson," JP replied, standing up from the table. Andrew stepped forward to shake Tyler's hand, towering over him even though Tyler stood 6 foot 3 and weighed 275 pounds. Tyler had to conceal a wince at the strength in Andrew's grip, guessing that JP's huge friend could bench a lot more than 400 pounds. "Good to meet you Tyler," Andrew said. "You used to play high school football with JP's older brother Ryan, didn't you?" "Yeah this is my senior year coming up so it's my last chance to impress Penn State enough to get a full football scholarship." "Then we have something in common: we both want to earn a full ride from the NCAA," Anew informed him. "I hope to get into Miami but depending on how the recruiting visits go, I could be persuaded to stay closer to home: like Ohio State perhaps." Andrew glanced significantly at JP as he finished speaking, who took it as a cue to say goodbye to Tyler. "It was good seeing you Tyler but we have a dinner timing to meet. I'll say hi to Ryan for you when I see him again and I'll see you at the wrestling camp in six weeks." "Sure JP; see you later," Tyler said agreeably. He nodded at Andrew and added, "Nice meeting you man." "You too Tyler," Andrew said, giving him a big grin. "See you later." Tyler nodded and headed out of the restaurant with his take-out order. Once he was gone, Andrew turned to JP and said, "There now, that wasn't much of a delay, was it JP?" JP shook his head and grinned: pleased that Andrew had once again found a way to make him feel better. Half an hour later, as they were driving to JP's house, JP said, "I have a very important question to ask you Andrew." "What is it Big Guy?" Andrew asked him, glancing over at him with a small grin. "What's it like to be you?" JP asked, looking over at Andrew with great respect in his eyes. "What do you mean JP?" Andrew asked, even though he had an idea. "You're admired and respected by everyone, even my friends, you're a god on the football field and lots of NCAA schools want you to join their football teams. How have you stayed so humble even though you've been a super jock for years?" "Super jock: that's a good one JP," Andrew said with a smirk. He noticed his smaller friend looking at him seriously, waiting earnestly for an answer. "It hasn't been easy not to let all the attention go to my head for the past seven years. But once I took care of the bully in Grade Five, everyone admired and respected me for being their hero. I couldn't bear to disappoint them, so I had to play the role of the humble big guy." "So you're just pretending to be humble Andrew?" JP asked, looking disappointed. "At first I was, but then it became my natural state," Andrew informed him. "I had a rough time when my Grandpa died almost a year ago and I gave into the cocky jock role to cover it up. But when I got suspended from the team and then we lost the Provincial Championship, it put things in perspective and I returned to my humble and gentle nature. Also, everyone wanted to learn how I got so big and strong so I gradually became a mentor for the small guys: training them to become football players like me in high school." JP grinned: pleased that his image of Andrew as a gentle giant had not been tarnished. "It sounds like you've made nothing but good decisions in your life man." "I know it seems that way now, but 2004 was quite frankly a 'Year of Hell' for me," Andrew informed him with a frown. "That was the title of a two-part Voyager episode in November 1997," JP suddenly realized. "Yeah, but unlike the crew of Voyager, the events were not erased by a magic reset button so I have to live with those memories for the rest of my life," Andrew said seriously. "I was allowed to play the final two games of last season and I didn't let my emotions get the better of me even when we lost the Provincial Championship. Coach Everson noticed my newfound maturity and helped me get invites to Junior Days here in the States a few months ago. And now I'm going on my first Unofficial Visits to schools in the Midwest." "Are you bringing Mike along, just like me, to help him get exposure to the college coaches?" JP asked him, astonished at Andrew's story of maturity discovery. "Yeah man, he was my first protege: I taught him everything he knows," Andrew replied proudly. "I want to help him realize his college football dreams. Unless the college coaches ban me from bringing anyone else along on my recruiting visits, I'll make sure the limelight shines on all my proteges." JP nodded, pleased with Andrew's explanation, and then just glanced occasionally at his huge friend in awe during the rest of the drive to his house. Andrew noticed and smiled quietly to himself: pleased that he inspired such admiration from a famous athlete like JP Maloney. Once they arrived at JP's house, Andrew got out of his truck and took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. "It's okay Andrew, I told my parents nothing but good things about you," JP assured him, as Matt pulled up in JP's car. "You lead the way into your house with Matt JP," Andrew ordered him. "I'll follow with Carrie and Mike." JP nodded and led the way to the front porch. As he climbed the front steps, the front door opened and JP's parents stepped out. "Hello son, how are you?" JP's dad asked him. "I'm fine Dad: I had a great day with my friends," JP replied. He motioned behind him and added, "I'd like you to meet my new friend Andrew Pearson." Mr. Maloney, who rarely had an emotional reaction to anything, widened his eyes in astonishment at how huge and muscular Andrew was. JP, on the other hand, grinned at how much bigger and more muscular Andrew was than his big brother Ryan. "I'm very pleased to meet you Andrew," Mr. Maloney said, revealing his admiration for Andrew by using his first name right away. He stepped forward and shook Andrew's hand eagerly, who remembered to be gentle so that he wouldn't crush Mr. Maloney's hand. "JP has told me and my wife all about you." "All good things I hope, but I guess we'll find out once you invite me inside," Andrew said. "Yes you will, come on in Andrew," JP's mom said, ushering everyone into the house. She shook his hand once they were inside and added, "Welcome to the Maloney house Andrew." "Thank you Mrs. Maloney," Andrew said, taking off his boots. "You're welcome Andrew, but please call me Maureen," Mrs. Maloney ordered him. "And call me Paul," Mr. Maloney added. As everyone took off their shoes, Matt's mom stepped out from the living room. "This is Mrs. Anderson: Matt's mom," Maureen said, as Andrew and his friends stepped forward to shake her hand. "I'm very pleased to meet all of you," Mrs. Anderson said as they all stepped into the living room across from the kitchen. "So Andrew, JP tells me that you can bench-press more than 500 pounds," Paul said once they were all sitting down. "More like 700 pounds actually, but who's counting?" Andrew asked with a smug grin. His grin faded as he noticed everyone staring at him with a mix of awe and fear. "If you have enough weight plates in your basement gym, I'd be glad to demonstrate," he offered. "We should have enough plates downstairs," Paul assured him. "After all, JP here benches over 300 pounds," he added, smiling proudly at his son. "Let's go downstairs and find out." Andrew and his friends followed the Maloney's downstairs to the basement weight room: where Ryan and then JP had turned themselves into the gods of Central High School. While Mike and Carrie stared at all the machines and weights with astonishment, Andrew didn't seem surprised. "You don't seem surprised like your two friends to see an entire gym down here Andrew," Paul said. "I have one in my basement at home Sir and it looks a lot like this," Andrew informed him. "Call me Paul Andrew," Mr. Maloney advised him. "Because it's time for a rhyme Paul?" Andrew asked him with a smug grin. "Very funny Andrew!" Paul laughed, as JP added extra weight plates to the bench-press to bring it up to 700 pounds. "Twice as much as I bench but I'll get there one day," JP predicted. "First you have to win the State Championship JP," Paul reminded him with a frown. "Yes Dad, I will," JP assured him, putting the locking pins in place. "But before any of that happens, we have to see if Andrew can truly bench 700 pounds or if he was exaggerating." "Hey JP, don't talk about me like I'm not in the gym!" Andrew ordered him. He flexed his massive biceps with a cocky smirk and added, "Last time I checked, I was in the gym!" "There's no way anyone could miss you, considering how big and muscular you are!" JP assured him. "Let's see how effective these huge muscles are in the gym!" Andrew shouted in excitement, laying down on the bench. "Get your cameras ready everyone!" Andrew grabbed the loaded bar as JP lowered it into his hands. Then he lowered it to his chest and pushed it up fairly easily, causing his friends to look amazed at his awesome strength. Since JP was serving as his spotter, though he really didn't need one, Mike was free to capture Andrew's massive strength using the video mode on his digital camera. Mike, like everyone else, watched with amazement as Andrew benched 700 pounds easily, making it look almost effortless. Andrew raised the bar for the tenth and final rep, letting JP put it back on the brackets. "Good job Andrew," JP congratulated him. "How do you feel?" "It felt easier than it did last week," Andrew replied with a big grin. "I didn't even break a sweat this time. Do you have any more weight plates so that I can try again for my maximum of 800 pounds?" "No I don't Andrew," JP replied, his eyes wide with fear and amazement at Andrew's awesome strength. "Too bad JP," Andrew said, sitting up from the weight bench. "I guess I'll have to see if the gym at Ohio State has enough weight plates to challenge me." "Yes, when you take JP and Matt there," Paul said. He looked at his watch and added, "It's time we got dinner started, so we'll go upstairs now. Mike, you come upstairs with us so that you can email that video to the colleges you and Andrew will visit this week." "I'd like to stay down here with Andrew until dinner's ready," JP said. "I have something to show him that I think he'd like to see." Matt glanced over at JP as he headed upstairs and JP nodded, confirming that he was going to show Andrew The Wall. "See you upstairs later for dinner Andrew," Carrie said, standing on her toes to give him a kiss. Andrew bent down to meet her soft lips, kissing her softly. He folded his massive arms around her gently as he breathed in the fruity aroma of her perfume. "See you soon Carrie," he said, stroking her face softly as he drew back from her soft lips. JP grinned as he saw the gentle smile on Andrew's face as Carrie walked upstairs. "You really love her, don't you Andrew?" JP asked his huge friend. "Yeah man, in fact, I hope we get married before we go to college," Andrew replied. He turned to JP, saw him smiling, and realized that he was probably thinking of Matt. "Now JP, enough about me; what did you want to show me?" "What I call 'The Wall' Andrew," JP replied, leading him to a door in the far left corner of the basement. "I've only shown this to Matt, so I hope you realize how much I trust you that I'm letting you see it too." "I understand JP," Andrew assured him. "Let's see what this 'Wall' looks like," he added, as they stopped in front of the door. JP grinned and opened the door, turning on the light so that Andrew could see the contents of the room for himself. As Andrew looked around the back room, his eyes widened as he saw the pictures of JP's progress from a skinny kid to a muscular jock. "You look surprised Andrew," JP said with a smug grin. "Don't you have pictures of your progress at home?" "Just in a photo album, not all over two walls JP," Andrew said with a slight frown of disapproval. JP seemed to twitch at the words 'Photo Album' and Andrew noticed. "What is it Big Guy?" he asked softly. "I have something else to show you Andrew," JP replied. "Again, this is something I've shown only one other person: Matt." Andrew watched as JP walked over to a cabinet in the far corner of the back room. He opened a drawer and pulled out a photo album: the same one he had shown Matt after their visit with Matt's dad. "Are those more pictures of you JP?" Andrew asked with a big grin. "No Andrew, these are pictures of my brother," JP replied seriously. He opened the album and showed Andrew the pictures of his big brother Ryan: from when he was a fat kid in Grade Five to when he became a high school jock. "When Ryan was a fat kid he was always nice to me and I idolized him: following him around everywhere. He was the perfect big brother back then." "So what happened JP?" Andrew asked him gently, as they looked through more pages of the album. "As he got leaner and more muscular, he began to pull away from me, especially once high school started and he made the football team," JP replied. "Once he became a jock, he no longer had time for me." "Then who taught you how to work out when you got to high school?" Andrew asked with a confused look on his face. "Actually Ryan did, but only because I begged him to," JP replied sadly. "He didn't offer to do it; I had to bug him until he gave in. Then he told me that if I worked out a bit, perhaps even joined the wrestling team he was on, I wouldn't get picked on at school. You might not believe this Andrew, but I was barely 100 pounds two years ago." "I know, I can see the pictures JP," Andrew reminded him, pointing to the left side of the first wall. "Yeah that's true," JP realized. "Anyway, Ryan became my personal trainer and workout partner almost two years ago and he helped me become what I am today." "So what happened JP?" Andrew asked, figuring that they would soon get to the heart of the matter. "What happened between the two of you that turned you from workout partners into rivals?" "I really don't know Andrew," JP replied, looking down at his feet. "Are you sure JP?" Andrew asked him seriously, handing back the photo album. "You never gloated when you began to catch up to his size and strength? You never made fun of him when he got stuck on a weight-lifting plateau or put on a few pounds of fat?" JP's jaw dropped in astonishment at Andrew's insight but then his face fell as the full impact of his big friend's words hit him. "Oh no," he whispered, sitting down on the bench with his chin in his hands. "It's all my fault Andrew: I pushed Ryan away by doing everything you described during my last workout with him three months ago! Instead of encouraging him when he got stuck at 325 on the bench-press for three months, I gloated that I was only a few dozen pounds behind him. I rubbed my success in his face instead of thanking him for helping me get to where I am today!" "I'm afraid so JP, but you're not the only one to make those mistakes," Andrew assured him. "I did the same thing with Steve almost seven years ago, even though he never trained me. I certainly didn't think about our friendship when I gloated about suddenly being bigger and stronger than he was when we started Grade Five!" "You were only ten years old Andrew; you probably didn't know any better," JP assured him. "But I on the other hand was already 16 years old three months ago and I still made fun of Ryan!" "Don't feel too bad JP; at least you still spent time with him all these years," Andrew reminded him. JP's face brightened with a small smile as he realized that Andrew was right. "I, on the other hand, completely neglected Steve the summer before Grade Five, even though we had been best friends since Nursery School! And then to make matters worse, once I got bigger than he was, I just gloated about it instead of helping him get as big and strong as I was! I also spent more time with my new protege Mike instead of Steve and then our friendship ended in a big shouting match that Christmas." "And how did you regain your friendship with Steve?" JP asked, hoping that he could get an idea on how to repair his relationship with Ryan. But his hopes were dashed when Andrew replied, "I never did repair my friendship with Steve JP or he would be here with us right now. Instead, I've spent the last seven years being his rival on the football field, even though we're on the Offensive Line together!" He noticed the look of defeat in JP's eyes and suddenly thought of something that could cheer him up. "But you have a couple things going for you that I never had JP." "What's that Andrew?" JP asked, a glimmer of hope returning to his eyes. "You and Ryan are brothers," Andrew replied, as JP put the album back in the cabinet drawer and closed it. "And as you said, you last worked out together only three months ago, which means that you continued spending time with Ryan even when he didn't want to." "That's three things Andrew," JP teased him, ushering him out of the back room. As he closed the door, he gave Andrew a cocky smirk and added, "I thought a smart guy like you would know how to count!" "Very funny JP!" Andrew laughed, as he followed his smaller friend across the gym to the bench-press. "The point I'm trying to make is: you didn't give up on your relationship with Ryan like I did with Steve. I know Ryan's away right now on his pre-college road trip, but when he gets back, you should try to fix your relationship with him before it's too late." "It's already too late Andrew!" JP snapped in exasperation. "Ryan ran off on his road trip without saying goodbye to me or our dad! We don't even know if he'll be back for Thanksgiving, which is four and a half months away here in America! He'll probably have forgotten about me by then! And if you haven't fixed your friendship with Steve, what makes you think I can fix my relationship with Ryan?" "It's only been there months since you last spent time together, not seven years like it has been with me and Steve," Andrew reminded him, trying to keep his smaller friend calm. "Also, don't forget that he's your brother JP. Family ties don't usually get broken; they just get frayed. I have confidence in you JP; you're not the quitting type. You know, the next time Ryan is home for a while, perhaps during Christmas Break, I should come down here so that I can see both of you. Maybe if Ryan sees our brotherly relationship, it will inspire him to regain what he's lost by turning away from you." "Or he'll figure that he's been replaced and resent me even more," JP huffed, feeling worse not better. "I guess I'm not the best example on this matter JP; I can't even follow my own advice!" Andrew finally realized. JP nodded in agreement, wondering when his big friend would stop talking about Ryan. "After all, I've never had a brother and I haven't shown any willingness over the past seven years to patch things up with Steve. I just replaced him with my first protege Mike Stevenson: the guy for whom I originally neglected him! I think when I get home this summer, I'll try, somehow, to make up with Steve. After all, we'll only have one last year of high school together and then we may never see each other again! I can only hope that you try to repair your relationship with Ryan when you see him again. I would hate for you to have to live with the regret of a failed relationship for seven years like I've had to do." "Sure Andrew, whatever you say," JP said dismissively, getting really tired of being lectured by his huge friend. "And maybe Hell will freeze over while I wait for Ryan to become my Big Brother again!" "You'll have to make it happen JP; you can't wait for it," Andrew advised him, trying not to get mad at JP's impatience. "Once you're as big as he is, he won't be able to ignore you anymore! He'll have to talk to you then and maybe he'll be proud of you for a change instead of jealous!" "You're right Andrew," JP realized, relieved that his huge muscular friend wasn't mad at him. "I'll try to fix our relationship the next time I see him, if he gives me the chance that is!" "That's all I can ask JP, but remember: you don't have to do all the work," Andrew suddenly realized. "Ryan has to want to be your Big Brother again or you'll never regain your relationship with him. I only hope it doesn't take something happening to one of you for the other to realize just how important you are to each other." Andrew had no idea how prophetic that statement was, but he did realize that he was scaring JP when he saw a glimmer of tears in his eyes. "Sorry for scaring you like that JP; I guess I'm not doing a very good job of cheering you up, am I?" "No you're not Andrew," JP replied: both truthfully and bravely considering how huge and muscular his big friend truly was. Andrew glared at him and JP hastily added, "But I guess you can't be good at everything, can you Big Guy?" Before Andrew could reply, the basement door opened and JP's dad started down the basement steps. "Dinner's ready you two," he said. "Come upstairs and get washed up." As Andrew and JP followed him up the basement steps, he asked, "What were you two talking about down here? It sounded rather heated." "We were talking about Ryan," JP replied through gritted teeth as he clenched his fists in fury. "I can't believe that he didn't even say goodbye to us before he left!" "Neither can your mother and I," Paul agreed. Then he added, "But I guess we shouldn't be surprised; he's barely acknowledged us during the last four years!" "I'm here Mr. Maloney," Andrew said quickly, hoping to head off another rant about Ryan. "I'd be glad to fill the 'big brother' role for JP." "Thank you Andrew," Paul said gratefully. "That's exactly why we're trusting you to take good care of JP during your upcoming Mid-West Recruiting Visits." He noticed JP glaring at him and hastily added, "Not that JP needs to be taken care of; he proved that last night when he took care of that jerk who was bugging Chrissy!" JP grinned proudly and then his father's previous sentence penetrated his consciousness. He turned from the sink, where he was washing his hands, and asked his dad excitedly, "Did you say that Andrew will be taking care of me during the recruiting visits?" His dad nodded with a small grin. "You mean I can go with my new friend Andrew on his road trip?" "Yes JP, but first clean up the water you splashed on the floor in your excitement," Paul ordered him with a chuckle. JP's face turned red with embarrassment as he grinned sheepishly and grabbed some paper towels. Paul turned back to Andrew and said, "I'm placing a lot of trust in you Andrew: to keep JP safe during this road trip. Can you do that for me?" "For us Paul," Maureen corrected him with a frown. "JP's our son, not just yours." "Of course dear," Paul said hastily. "I didn't mean to forget about you: I just misspoke." "Okay Paul," Maureen said. She handed him some plates and added, "You can make it up to me by setting the table." "I'll help him Mom," JP offered, anxious to spend some time with Matt. "Good idea son, that will give me a chance to talk privately with Andrew for a couple of minutes," Maureen decided. Andrew looked surprised, but he stayed quiet while JP and his dad left the kitchen with the plates and cutlery. Then he turned to JP's mom and asked her, "What did you want to talk about Mrs Maloney?" "Call me Maureen Andrew," Mrs Maloney said. Andrew nodded and Mrs Maloney continued by saying, "I just want you to know how much Paul and I appreciate you being there for JP." "Especially since Ryan hasn't been," Andrew interjected. "JP told me all about that downstairs while you guys were cooking dinner." "Yes Andrew, Ryan hasn't been there for his brother like you have, both last night and today. JP told me at lunch all that you talked about last night and how similar you two are, considering all that you've both gone through over the last few years." "Yes I was surprised myself at how similar we are," Andrew agreed. "But I'm glad to help JP get a head start on his college wrestling hopes by taking him with me to Ohio State." "I have complete confidence in your ability to look after JP on these upcoming Unofficial Recruiting Visits of yours," Maureen informed him proudly. "Thank you very much Mrs Maloney," Andrew said gratefully. "I'll make sure to justify your faith in me by keeping JP safe. But from what I saw last night, JP doesn't need protection from anyone!" "Yes, being a District Finalist in wrestling does have its advantages when dealing with college guys on the prowl," Maureen agreed. "Have you ever had to use force to scare people away from Carrie?" "Only the force of my voice," Andrew replied with a smug grin. "One of the advantages of being huge and insanely strong is that anyone who wants to start trouble is scared away with just a look!" "Good for you Andrew; now that you are in the middle of college football recruiting, any fighting you're involved in could derail that entire train ride!" "Thanks for that insight Mrs Maloney," Andrew said, as the oven timer went off. As she took the food out of the oven, he added, "I find it very gratifying to be a big brother for JP, just like I did in previous years for my football proteges, who are now my teammates." "That's good to hear Andrew," Maureen said, setting the food on the large breadboard. "I'm glad you've had a lot of practice being a mentor. Now let's go into the dining room for dinner; everyone's waiting for us." Andrew nodded and helped her bring the food into the dining room. Then they sat down at the table, where everyone else was already seated. They said grace and began eating. "So Andrew, have you and your friends mapped out a travel plan for your NCAA Road Trip?" Mr Maloney asked. "Yes Sir," Andrew replied. "I have the map book in my truck; I can show it to you after supper." "Good idea Andrew, because if you're taking the route I'm thinking of, I have another idea." "I can remember the route Sir," Andrew said. "It will take us to Ohio State, Notre Dame, and Michigan." "That confirms that my idea will work, but I'll tell you what it is after supper when we look at your map book," Mr Maloney decided. Andrew nodded in agreement and Paul added, "So Andrew, do you realize what an amazing coincidence it was that you and JP were in the National Mall at the same time last night?" "Yes Sir I do," Andrew agreed. "But I also realize that this was the only summer I could do it. Last summer I was Basic Reserves Training and next summer I will be preparing for my freshman season of college football. But I must say, when I saw JP on the train, I knew that I recognized him from somewhere. Then once my friends and I got back from our tour of the National Mall, we used his bright blue tank top as a reference point to find our spot on the lawn again. Then I remembered where I had seen him before: on the front page of the sports section of the Washington Post." He noticed JP's friends and family smiling with pride at the memory of the day JP had been interviewed. "I was trying to figure out how to introduce myself to your son when those two big college guys started bugging Chrissy. I was about to intervene to protect her, but JP got there first and helped her out. Then I was able to introduce myself to him, once he noticed me of course." "You're impossible to miss Andrew," Paul said proudly, referencing Andrew's huge muscles. Andrew smiled quietly as Paul added, "JP told me all about how you were ready to help Chrissy before he got there." He thought for a moment and then said, "I might as well tell you my idea now, while you get yourself a second helping." "What do you mean Sir?" Andrew asked innocently, after he swallowed his last mouthful of food. "You cleaned your plate Andrew and so did Mike," Paul replied with a big grin. "Raise your hand if you want seconds." "How about I flex my arm instead," Andrew decided. He flexed his massive arm with a cocky smirk and added, "Both my huge arms need lots of fuel to get even bigger!" Everyone around the table laughed at Andrew's cocky attitude, which reminded them that he was a jock, not just an athlete. "I think your ego is just as big as your arms Andrew," JP teased his huge friend. Andrew grinned at his smaller friend and then realized he'd better get the conversation back on track. "What was your idea Mr Maloney?" he asked, as he got himself a second helping. "Call me Paul Andrew; I told you that when you first got here," Paul said. He waited for Andrew to nod in agreement and then added, "Ann Arbor is a lot closer to Orillia than it is to Washington DC." "Yes it is Paul," Andrew agreed, grinning as he guessed where JP's dad was going with this. "Good, then since we've hosted you tonight, how about you and your family return the favour once your Unofficial Visits are complete?" "Are you serious Dad?" JP shouted in excitement before Andrew could reply. "I get to meet Andrew's family and friends and perhaps see where he has achieved glory on the gridiron?" "If Andrew and his parents agree," Paul reminded him. He looked over at Andrew, who nodded in agreement. "Good, then all we need to do is get your parents on Skype after dinner and ask them." He looked over at Andrew and asked, "Are they home?" "Yes Paul; they're making plans for me to visit some Canadian football schools," Andrew replied. "Good, then it's all settled," Paul decided. "Let's finish our dinner and then we can Skype your parents and see if they're on board with my idea." Everyone nodded in agreement and followed his suggestion. Then, after dinner, Andrew used his laptop to get his dad on Skype so that he could introduce his parents to his new friend JP Maloney and his family. "Hey Dad," Andrew said once Chad's face appeared on the screen. "Hello son," Chad said, grinning at his son. "How is your Washington trip going?" "It's going quite well Dad," Andrew replied. "In fact, I met some new friends and their parents." He took a few minutes to tell his dad about the events of the previous evening and that afternoon. "What do you think Dad?" "I think you've made a great new friend," Chad said with a proud smile on his face. "But you forgot to tell me his name." "I didn't forget, I held back his name deliberately," Andrew informed him with a smug grin. He motioned JP to step into view of the laptop screen and added, "I think you'll recognize him." JP stepped in front of the laptop screen as Andrew stepped back. Chad's smile widened as he said, "You're JP Maloney!" "Yes I am Sir," JP said, surprised that Andrew's dad recognized him. "How did you recognize me?" "I took a business trip down there last week and I noticed your article in the sports section of the Washington Post," Chad replied. "It was the part about you starting a middle school wrestling camp that caught my eye actually." "Why was that Sir?" JP asked, not noticing Andrew stepping into the living room to speak with JP's parents. "Andrew has been a mentor himself: his first mentor was Mike actually," Chad informed him. "Then he mentored Mike's older brother Mark. The next year, he mentored the current Starting Quarterback and Wide Receiver on the OD Varsity Football Team. You stick with Andrew and he'll show you how to be a good mentor for your future protege Nick." "I will Sir," JP promised him. "You don't have to call me Sir, JP," Chad informed him. "Okay Mr Pearson," JP said agreeably. "That will do for now," Chad said. "Now, did Andrew call me on Skype just to introduce you to me or did he have another reason?" "There is another reason, but I should let Andrew tell you what it is, after you meet my parents of course." JP motioned his mom and dad over to Andrew's laptop and they introduced themselves to Andrew's dad and mom. "My parents had an idea Mr Pearson," JP said. "I'll just get Andrew so that he can hear it too." JP went into the living room to get Andrew while Paul and Maureen talked for a bit with Chad. "Your son is a really great young man Chad," Maureen said. "He has really taken JP under his wing in the absence of JP's older brother Ryan." "Yes I know that very well and he has been a great young man for many years," Chad agreed proudly. "Did Andrew tell you how he has mentored a few of his friends over the years and helped them become football players?" "Yes I believe he mentioned that," Paul said. He looked up and noticed Andrew and JP coming back into the den. "Explain your idea to your dad Andrew." "Actually it was your idea Sir," Andrew reminded him with a smug grin. "You're right, it was Andrew," Paul realized. "Okay Mr Pearson, here's my idea: since Andrew's last recruiting visit is near Detroit, he could go right to Orillia from there with JP." "So that we can host you and your family in return for you hosting our son right now," Chad realized. He turned to his wife Susan and asked, "What do you think dear?" "That sounds like a good idea," Susan agreed. "We have lots of room if you count the guest room and the pullout couches." "Good then it's all settled," Paul decided. "We'll keep in touch so that you can let us know when Andrew leaves Ann Arbor. Then my wife and I will start the journey to Orillia, which we will be able to reach in one day from here. Then we can all meet at your house." "That sounds good to me," Chad said. "See you all in a few days. Be sure to call me once you've crossed the border Andrew." "I will Dad," Andrew promised, waving goodbye to Chad. "See you later." "Goodbye son: enjoy your recruiting visits," Chad said. Once the Skype connection had been broken, Paul turned to Andrew and said, "There now, it's all settled Andrew: once you and JP cross the border into Canada, he can call us so that we can start our journey to meet you in Orillia the next day." "Would a text message be more convenient Sir?" Andrew asked. "That way, JP won't get any international calling charges on his phone bill and neither will you." "That's a very good idea Andrew," Paul commended him. "Thank you for suggesting it." He turned to JP and said, "Now how about you and Matt take Andrew and his friends over to the high school so that he can see the football field and the wrestling room." "Good idea Dad," JP agreed. "But how will we get into the wrestling room? I don't have a key." "But Coach Graves does and he'll be expecting you," Paul informed him. "Once you told us about Andrew during lunch, I knew that it would be a good idea to show him where you have achieved glory on the wrestling mat. So I called Coach Graves and told him my idea. Since he had some work to do for August's Wrestling Camp, he said that he would bring it to his office in the high school after supper. I told him you would meet him there at 7:30." "Okay Dad, I'll go get ready now," JP said, heading for the stairs. "Good idea JP," Paul agreed. "Your mom and I will stay down here to entertain your guests." "Thanks Dad, since I can't do that all the time!" JP joked, heading upstairs. "Don't forget your wrestling jacket JP!" Andrew shouted. JP grinned and nodded, pleased that Andrew had thought of everything. As JP turned the corner out of sight, Maureen turned to Andrew and asked, "Why did you tell JP to bring his jacket? It's really hot outside." "It was my idea to help raise his profile for the recruiting visits," Andrew replied. "It makes sense for him to make sure it still fits. He's pretty muscular you know." "That's an understatement Andrew, especially when referring to you," Mrs Anderson said with raised eyebrows. "Thank you Mrs Anderson," Andrew said. "But I think I should get my jacket out of my truck to make sure it fits. I'll be right back." Andrew headed outside to his car and JP's parents took that opportunity to get their digital camera. Once Andrew came back inside with his football jacket on, he found his friends and their parents waiting for him in the living room. "What's going on here?" Andrew asked with a smile. "Just a group shot before you go, now that both you and JP have your jackets on," Paul replied, holding up his digital camera. "You mean all three of us," Andrew said with a cocky grin, as he held up Mike's football jacket. Paul grinned at Andrew's cocky attitude as Mike put on his football jacket. Then Paul set the timer on the camera, placed it on the mantle, and stepped back so that he would be in the picture with everyone else. Everyone grinned as the camera flashed and then stepped up to the mantle to see what the photo looked like on the screen. Once everyone had voiced their approval of the group picture, JP said, "We'd better get going Dad, so Matt and I can show Andrew and his friends the high school wrestling room." "Actually JP, you and Andrew go ahead," Matt said. JP turned to look at him in surprise and Matt added, "I want to stay here with Mike and Carrie." Andrew turned around to see Mike and Carrie nodding in agreement. Mike saw his look of astonishment and said, "Don't look so shocked Andrew: you must realize that the dynamics of this friendship were set last night when you spent half an hour alone with JP." Andrew nodded in sudden understanding and Paul said, "Besides Andrew, while you and JP are talking with Coach Graves, I can show your friends JP's wrestling videos." JP looked suddenly embarrassed, hoping that his dad wouldn't show the footage of the District Final match that JP had lost four months before. Paul noticed his son's sad look and decided to cheer him up. "If you lend me your digital camera son, I can upload the video you took last night of Andrew to YouTube." JP handed over his camera and grinned at the thought of helping raise Andrew's profile for the NCAA. He watched as Andrew slapped Mike on the back and hugged Carrie goodbye. "I'm ready to go now JP," Andrew said as JP opened the front door. "Good, so am I Andrew, so let's go," JP said, heading outside. Andrew waved goodbye to JP's parents and Matt's mom, before following his friend outside to the driveway. "Should we take your car or my truck?" Andrew asked once he reached the driveway where JP was waiting. "We should take your truck Andrew, it looks cooler," JP replied. "Especially when I turn on the under lights," Andrew said with a cocky smirk. "You must be a fan of the Fast and Furious movies," JP realized. "Especially 2Fast 2Furious," Andrew said with a big grin as they got into his truck. "Because it takes place in Miami right?" JP guessed. "Gee, someone's a genius, as far as stating the obvious!" Andrew laughed as they backed out of the driveway. "Shut up man!" JP laughed as they drove down the street. "Just try and make me JP, if you've got the guts that is!" Andrew dared him with a cocky smirk. Andrew and JP continued laughing and joking as they drove to Central High School, enjoying the freedom to act like jocks without worrying what their friends thought. Meanwhile, back at JP's house, Andrew's friends and JP's parents said goodbye to Matt's mom, who was heading home. Matt promised her that he would stop by to say goodbye the next morning, since JP's parents had granted permission for him to stay over. "After all Matt, Andrew only knows the way to this house, not your house," JP's mom reminded him. "That's why your mom brought an overnight bag for you when she came over for dinner." Matt's mom didn't reveal the real reason she was letting Matt stay over at JP's house that night: she needed some space from her son after the bombshell he had dropped on her that morning. Andrew and JP soon reached the high school and parked by the gate in the fence surrounding the football field. The school below in Fairfax County is probably what the author of the JP stories based Central High School on. And of course the team name in the JP Story is the Spartans, not the Wildcats. "Are you ready to go inside Andrew?"JP asked as he got out of the truck. "As soon as I get something," Andrew replied. He got out and opened up his truck's tailgate. Then he reached into his gym bag and pulled out his old Miami Hurricanes football. Then he closed the tailgate. "See JP, just a little accessory to complete my jock image." "You mean your Super Jock image Andrew," JP corrected him with a smug grin. "Your words JP and I agree with them," Andrew said with a big grin. "Let's go into the school and meet your wrestling coach. Then you can show me the wrestling room where you have achieved athletic glory on the wrestling mat." JP grinned back at his huge friend and led the way into the school for the chat with Coach Graves. As Andrew followed him down the hall to the wrestling room, JP smiled to himself as he realized that he would be mentoring a dozen kids there in wrestling in about six weeks time. "What do you think Andrew?" JP asked as they stepped into the wrestling room. "Most impressive JP," Andrew replied, looking around at all the pictures and newspaper articles on the wall. His eyes widened as he realized that most of the pictures and articles were of JP. "Someone's certainly popular in this school," he remarked, making the understatement of the year. "He should be, he's the first District Finalist we've had in over a decade," a deep voice said from behind them. Andrew and JP turned around to see a burly man in his 40s walking towards them. "I'm Coach Graves: the Head Coach of the District Finalist Central High Spartans Varsity Wrestling Team." "Pleased to meet you Coach," Andrew said, holding out his right hand. Coach Graves shook it firmly, only wincing a little bit from the strength of Andrew's iron grip. "I'm Andrew Pearson: Starting Center for the District Champion ODCVI Blues Varsity Football Team." "District Champion sounds a lot more impressive than District Finalist," Coach Graves realized, causing JP to look down at his feet in shame. Graves noticed and quickly apologized to his Star Wrestler. "Sorry about that JP, but it's true. You're good, but obviously not as good as Andrew here." "I'll do better this season Coach," JP promised with a scary look of determination on his face. "This time I won't just win the District Title but I'll be the State Champion as well!" "I'm sure you will JP," Graves agreed, pleased at how determined his Star Wrestler was to succeed. His cell phone suddenly rang from his shirt pocket. "Sorry guys, but I have to take this call: I've been expecting it." He took out his flip phone opened it up, pressed the green phone button to accept the call and listened intently. "Okay, I'll send him right out." He ended the call and turned to Andrew. "There's someone important waiting for you on the 50 yard line of the football field Andrew." "Okay Coach, I'll head out there now and then I'll meet you and JP back in here," Andrew decided. "We'll meet you out there Andrew," Graves said. "JP and I have a few things to work on for the Lincoln Middle School Wrestling Camp in six weeks." Andrew nodded in agreement and waved to JP as he headed out of the wrestling room. As he walked down the hall towards the stairs, he wondered who could be waiting for him in the middle of the football field: which he could see from the second floor window. Once Andrew exited the building and skirted the stands, he saw a big man in his 40s standing in the middle of the field. As he got closer, he noticed that the big guy was wearing a Central High Spartans Football t-shirt. "Hello Andrew, I'm Coach Palmer: the Head Coach of the Central High Spartans Varsity Football Team." "Pleased to meet you Coach," Andrew said excitedly, shaking his hand firmly. He noticed Coach Palmer massaging his sore hand and smirked as he added, "As you already know, I'm Andrew Pearson: Starting Center for the Orillia District Varsity Football Team." "I'm very pleased to meet you Andrew and there's someone else who would like to meet you: over the phone anyway." He picked up his cell phone and sent a quick text message that consisted of only two words: 'He's here.' "Who did you just send that text message to Coach?" Andrew asked curiously. "You'll find out in about 30 seconds Andrew," Coach Palmer promised him. Sure enough, within 30 seconds, his cell phone rang. "Hello, is that you?" he asked. He listened closely to the answer and nodded his head in satisfaction. "Good, thanks for calling back so quickly." He listened a bit more and added, "Sure I'll let you speak to him, since that is the reason I wanted you to call me in the first place. Just a second." He handed his cell phone to Andrew and said, "It's for you." "Thanks Coach," Andrew said, taking the cell phone and holding it up to his ear. "Hello?" "Are you Andrew Pearson?" a deep and confident voice asked from the other end of the line. "Yes I am," Andrew replied, feeling a little uneasy that the mystery caller knew his name. "Who is this?" "This is Ryan Maloney," the caller replied. ********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************* And that, after two months, is the end of Andrew's Recruiting Summer Chapter 4. Please let me know what you thought of my first attempt at a cliffhanger ending. ********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************* Coming soon: - Andrew finds out why JP's older brother called him - Andrew takes JP and Matt on his Ohio State Recruiting Visit.
  13. Catch up: Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in penis size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, innocent, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable appetite to receive muscle worship. Casey's simplicity, and his ever-growing need to receive equal doses of both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Links to previous chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match THE TWENTY A Government Issue Adult Cartoon -XXX- Muscle Fantasy By Joey Silverado This book is dedicated to Tiny Yokum – and to all his fans, past, present, and future. Chapter 13: After the Match Casey lay on the wrestling mat, completely spent. His eye was swollen – he’d have a nice shiner tomorrow. His huge, tired muscles gleamed oily red with sweat and scratch and pressure marks from the match. Casey dripped with splotches of oil mixed with muscle cum. Lakes of cum oozed into the oil, painting his raw, vascular physique a creamy, drippy, white, gathering in little lakes in the deep cobblestones of his abs, rolling in thick tides down his lats and onto the mat. “What the fuck?” he asked plaintively. “What kinda place IS this?” He sniffed the air. Cum. Everything smelled of cum. Around and above him the men were zipping up, putting their cocks away, retrieving sweaty, torn clothing. Karim Abdul, the vanquished muscle monster, lay to his left. Enraged, cum-coated, growling. “I’ll get you, kid,” he threatened. He stood, rivulets of cum flowing down from his face onto his massive traps. He started off. He stopped when he got to Blankenship. Blankenship grinned toothily. It didn’t last long. POW!!! Blankenship flew about 20 feet into the air from the force of Abdul’s uppercut punch, his feet never touching the ground. A tooth, suddenly without a home, landed beside him. Out cold. “Where you going, Corporal?” Moster demanded, stuffing his massive, dripping cock back into his pants and zipping up with some difficulty over the bulge. Abdul ignored him, stalking out the room. "Come on, Pedro," he barked to the pretty little kitchen boy, who scampered eagerly after him. “Someone get Blankenship and put him to bed.” Moster sighed, knowing that the muscleman would demand a match of his own the next day. And on it would go, until he was forced once again into public bare-butt spankings to keep them in line. Funny how they’d deck one another but submit meekly to hard paddling on their razor sharp glutes. The men stared a little – though all had seen Moster’s cock before – in fact, all the men had at various points sucked it dry, and had their own faces coated with the steady, unrelenting stream of ropey gism that shot from his deep piss slit. But no one could remember a group scene quite like what had just occurred. Abdul stalked off to the showers, Schumacher and Obatu bent to pick up a groggy, moaning Blankenship. Moster took his clipboard to a desk in the corner of the wrestling room and lowered his rockhard muscle butt into the swivel chair, which sagged and groaned under his mass. Corporal Alvarez and Private Lang, who had called Casey a motherfucker, but somehow managed to make it sound good, turned to check out the new muscle kid last time as they passed through the door back to their quarters, where they planned to fuck butt all night. They knew Moster wouldn’t be paying attention. Not tonight. Casey caught their look, and they nodded briefly at him. Lang gave him a half smile. Then he winked. And then they were both gone. Schumacher didn’t leave right away, though. He handed Blankenship over to LeFevre and stood back, watching like a hawk as the others filed out. Then he walked boldly right up to Casey. He looked up at him. “Sergeant Moster has another little honorary initiation ritual on that I think you may find both interesting and rewarding.” He smiled. “We’d like the opportunity to take you through it tomorrow.” “I - I’ll be honored to be a part of it.” “Yes, you will.” “Get out of here, Schumacher,” said Moster with good-natured gruffness. Schumacher looked blankly at Moster, who hadn’t even looked up from his notes. “And it won’t be tomorrow. It won’t be any time soon.” He looked up. “For Casey, that is. However, I’d be happy to accommodate you at any time.” His hand twitched and Schumacher instinctively shot a hand down to protect his glutes. “Yes, sir.” Schumacher left the lab. “Sorry about that, Casey,” said Moster, as soon as he was gone. “Corporal Schumacher gets a bit riled over anything having to do with Private Tiffany. They all have their quirks. You’ll adjust. Those last two men? They were Private Robert Lang and Corporal Julio Alvarez. Those two specimens were brought into the facility only a year ago. Others have come, but not everyone makes it through, and if they fail, then Zaftig releases them back into the general population. In fact, only 1 in 50 make it as far as you have. Now, drop your posers. It’s time I inspected your penis more closely.” Casey slightly rolled his eyes. “Again, sir?” “I’m not going to say it twice.” Casey nodded, resigned. He understood. It was about his penis, after all. Not his muscles. His dong. His wang. His rod. His cock. His huge motherfucking penis. It was always about his huge motherfucking penis. Moster was watching him steadily, his eyes narrowing. “Is there a problem, cadet?” he asked quietly, after a moment. “No problem, at all, sir.” He slipped his fingers into the elastic band of his torn, micro posing trunks and pulled it out from his body, and slid it down over his quads. Pop….. Smack! His giant penis poured out and slapped down onto his quads just above his knees. Immediately it stiffened slightly. The bell-like cock head bobbed forward once or twice, and the pulsing veins in the shaft began to throb a little more rapidly. Casey was breathing hard now. He was beet red with embarrassment. Moster never stopped looking him in the eye. He strode forward and grabbed hold of his thick penis in his left hand, squeezing the shaft lightly. Casey’s eyes widened in profound surprise. It grew hard in the palm of his hand. His palm glided up and down the warm steely rod 2, 3 times, very slowly. It grew under his hand. “Impressive. How big is this machine of yours?” He stroked it with his fingers. “I see you didn’t cum during the match." He began to rub his heavy hands with practiced movements up and down the boy’s thick shaft. “I – I don’t know, sir.” Casey had begun to sweat. Moster remained cool. “No, I didn’t shoot.” He shuffled from side to side, and his penis slipped out of Moster’s palm. Moster looked up. He took hold of the cock firmly once again. “You seem agitated. You badly need some additional training. Part of what marks this troop is their ability to restrain their emotional responses. And it seems to me your cock is responding emotionally.” Moster continued to stroke Casey’s machine vigorously. “So since we’re going in that general direction, let’s take a few additional measurements. Private Tiffany!” he suddenly called out towards the open corridor door. No response, but Casey made out a figure in the darkened shadows of the corridor. “Private Joe Tiffany. I know you’re out there. Step in here now, Private.” Tiffany appeared in the doorway. The young bodybuilder had removed his t-shirt and stood stripped to the waist. His ripped muscles gleamed in the fluorescent light. He entered the lab and walked bow-legged, a coiled cobra, towards the two musclemen in the center of the room. “Take some additional measurements, Tiffany. You know what I am referring to.” Tiffany smiled. “Yes, sir, I know.” He approached Casey. Looking him squarely in the eyes, he knelt with business-like efficiency before him. When his eyes were level with Casey’s member, he looked squarely at it. “What is the diameter, Private Tiffany?” Moster reached again for the clipboard, all business. Tiffany opened his smiling mouth wide and moved towards Casey’s cock. Casey nearly jumped out of his skin. “What’s he doing?!” “Private Tiffany has an unusual talent. It’s like having perfect pitch. He can take exact measurements with his mouth. He’s never off by more than 1/64th of an inch. Go for it, Private. Enjoy yourself, Casey.” “Flex for me, dude,” cajoled Tiffany sweetly, his mouth hovering just above the head of Casey’s enormous penis. “Come on, man, let’s see those big rocky peaks.” He flicked his tongue out and lightly touched the corona. “Sir…” Casey started to say. “Cadet Rockland, Project Herculaneum soldiers do as they’re told. Private Tiffany will now suck your cock. If you have a problem with this, speak up now. We administer regular oral-stimulation sessions here at Valhalla Labs.” “But ….it’s so gay, sir.” Tiffany snickered. “You’re standing there covered with oil and cum and you’re complaining about this being gay?” Moster stepped forward and spoke evenly. “That’s enough, Tiffany,” Tiffany immediately shut up. Moster turned to Casey. “Muscle is its own sex. Some have posited over the years that sex is bad for bodybuilders. We know better here. Cocksucking is not only pleasurable, it stimulates the psyche. It clears out problems with the prostate. Done regularly and properly it enhances semen production. It sharpens the animal instincts, to say nothing of increasing testosterone production. It also serves to further bond the men.” “You mean everyone sucks dick here.” “Everyone who wants to remain in The Project get their cocks sucked. Not only that, they are expected to suck cocks themselves. Regularly. Is there an issue? Are you frightened?” “No….I…..what if he bites me?” Tiffany gave him a lopsided smile, which he meant to be charming. “I never bite too hard,” he said. “I assure you Private Tiffany knows what he is doing. Proceed, Private.” “Okay…..” said Casey, bewildered. “Let’s see those guns, cadet,” said Tiffany. Slowly, as if hypnotized, Casey raised his arms up into front double biceps. Joe Tiffany smiled like a little boy in a candy store. He flicked a little river of cum that followed a thick vein from the cannonball right biceps to the tri’s. Then he squatted on his handsome haunches. He glanced at the mammoth machine that hung before him, and spoke out of the side of his mouth. “This looks like a real jaw-breaker, sir.” “You’ve worked with mine. It’s far bigger. Get to work,” Sergeant Moster commanded, clipboard ready. “Yes, sir. Anything for the good old USA, sir.” Tiffany fingered his Adam’s apple. “Gotta limber up.” He opened his mouth as wide as he could, yawning it four or five times, retracting his teeth behind his lips. He pressed his palm to his jaw and tilted his head, then raised his hands and gently pried his own mouth open to its fullest expanse. He licked his lips until they dripped with spit. Casey watched him intently, still flexing his biceps. His brain was burning. Tiffany approached Casey’s fully erect manhood, gently guided it up to his mouth, parted his lips slightly, and tenderly extended his tongue to lightly flick the big cock head. Flick. Flick. Flick. Casey blinked. Tiffany ran his tongue along the piss slit and probed a little inside. He looked up again. “What’s your preliminary estimate, Private?” “I’d say it looks to be between 14 and 14 -1/2 inches in length, sir.” “Very good. Girth? “9 inches at least.” “Confirm it, please.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany leaned in and oh so softly glided his lips smoothly over the head of Casey’s penis. He closed his mouth and gently held firm. He closed his eyes, as if concentrating. Inside his mouth, his tongue methodically caressed the cock head. Casey was blown away. He stared down at the cocky short muscleman whose mouth was now enveloping the head of his penis. No one had ever sucked his cock before, let alone a man, let alone a muscleman. He gulped. Shit, Casey thought. Shit. I’m gonna cum. “Sir, I’m gonna cum, sir!” he blurted out. “Not yet you’re not. No man in my outfit cums in 5 seconds. Control yourself, cadet. Tiffany, what’s your first assessment? How big is this cadet’s cock?” Tiffany, his mouth full of cockhead, tried to respond. He couldn’t. Even he was surprised at the girth of Casey’s member. “MMgghblrb,” he said. “Gaaggg…mmmmhyrpphhhglub……aaaaackk…” “I can’t understand you when you mumble, damn it. Speak plainly, Private.” Tiffany pulled back for a moment, giving the head a final appreciative lick as it popped out of his mouth. “Yes, sir!” He reported, “The corona, I’d say, has a circumference of 10 and 3/8s inches. That sound about right to you, boy?” he asked wickedly. “I…I dunno…” Casey was baffled. What's a corona? Did he mean his cock head? One thing was sure: he was gonna get this guy. He wants to suck my cock, does he? Okay, then. “Now for the shaft.” He smiled again and whispered up to Casey. “This is the fun part,” he said. “Go for it, faggot.” Casey muttered. Tiffany raised an amused eyebrow, then winked at him and plunged forward, his mouth taking in all of Casey’s massive organ. His lips slid easily over the thick shaft, and somehow – by an instinctive rearrangement of tonsils? and a replacement of his soft palate? his mouth glided smoothly down the full length of the erect penis. When he reached the base, once again he stopped. Inside his mouth his tongue stroked the thick, pulsing cock veins. The penis grew stiffer and began to throb insistently inside Tiffany’s mouth. Tiffany sucked Casey’s cock. Back and forth, up and down, tip to base, his lips glided smoothly over the engorged shaft. Threads of thick glistening saliva appeared along the pulsing veins with each plunge. After 10 deep sucks, 5 very appreciative full-length licks, and a little tongue-and-balls-dancing, he pulled back again a moment, and, his eyes dancing merrily up at Casey, he coated the heavy, hairy testicles three or four final times. “Very nice,” he whispered. “Too bad you’ll have to shave these babies.” Okay, thought Casey. Maybe this guy was an asshole, but he was beginning to enjoy this. Something came alive inside him for the first time in his life. Hey, he thought, I really like this. This feels really good. “How do you like it, cadet?” asked Moster, clearly amused. “I like it fine, sir.” Casey managed to get out. “Private Tiffany, resume sucking.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany went back to work. He sucked deeply five more times, and then pulled back for what he thought was a final time. As Casey’s penis rolled out of his mouth, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He turned to Moster, ready to report. “The shaft circumference is unusually thick. I’d put at just over 9 inches. Length of the erect penis, 14 -1/4 inches from base to tip. Weight, maybe 7 pounds, a few ounces? Give or take.” “Your overall assessment?” Casey was staring, excited beyond words, and getting mad as hell. Why had he stopped? This was just getting good. His erect member lobbed back and forth in the air, protesting, next to Tiffany’s left ear, who had turned to face Moster. Tiffany felt the wind of it as it passed, and studied ignored the whooshing sounds. “Definitely a superior organ. I sense he has not used it much in sport yet, aside from masturbating, but I’d also guess he has to masturbate 4 or 5 times a day. Maybe more. There’s a lot of blood pumping here, and it throbs steadily throughout the sucking process. I’d guess this cock hasn’t been sucked very often before, if ever.” “That’s all you know,” said Casey. “Seems unlikely that such a big muscleboy hasn’t found suitable candidates eager to give him regular blowjobs. There’s lots of men out there who like to suck bodybuilder cock. I suppose women, too. Still, Zaftig said this boy is different. All right, then. You’re done for now. Dismissed. Back to your quarters.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany got up and winked at Casey, wiping his mouth. “See you later,” he said smugly, and sauntered out of the room. Casey stood trembling. “Do you need to shoot, Cadet?” asked Moster, all business. “Yes, sir, I’m afraid I do, sir.” “Get to it, then.” Moster walked casually over to the main table of the lab, put down the clipboard, and surreptitiously picked up a 2-quart beaker. He approached Casey. Casey grabbed his engorged cock with both hands. His body shuddered. He was about to let loose with a mighty blast of gism. Moster was prepared. He strode forward and grabbed Casey’s cock, and in the moment he exploded, he had the beaker ready. He calmly forced the beaker over the cockhead. Casey was stunned, but couldn’t stop his semen from bursting into the jar. “UUUUNNNNGHHH!” he shouted, and his cum flowed heavily out of his shooting dick and began to fill the container with its milky white thick fluid. “UUUUUUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHHHHHHH!! uuunnnggHHHGGHH!!! YEAH! OH GOD YEAH MAN!” As Casey’s huge body shuddered with spurt after spurt, the cum level climbed, half filling the jar. “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhUNHHH ARRRRGGGGGG hhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhh……” Three minutes later, with a last huge shrug, he was done. As he shuddered to a finish, Moster corked the beaker and held it aloft. He swirled the thick liquid in each and smiled. “Not bad, cadet,” he said calmly. “Close to a pint. Pretty good for a first shot. You’ll do better later.” Casey was meek and baffled and embarrassed. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “Dismissed. We’ll see you at the gym tomorrow at 0700 hours. Get some sleep, Casey. Good night.” He turned and marched out of the room. Casey wiped his dripping dick with the back of his hand. He picked up his clothes and dressed quickly, forcing his still-hard cock into his shorts. But he wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot. “Shit,” he said. He stood alone in the center of the room, his ripped posing trunks stretched around his ankles, the pole of his mammoth cock weaving out of control in the air. He closed his eyes and scrunched up his face. He was going to shoot again. He grabbed his cock with both hands, and fired towards the ceiling. “UUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHH!” he shouted, and, as ropes of semen began once again to fly into the air, hitting the ceiling, painting the walls, and splashing onto the ground. As his cum shot out of his enormous cock head, he was thinking feverishly. He remembered the cum on Abdul’s handsome Arab face. And he had been accepted into The Nineteen. Would they now be known as The Twenty? Casey knew it to be true. He could now be considered one of the world’s finest bodybuilders, if Project Herculaneum wasn’t so top-secret, and he wasn’t even 20 years old yet. He was powerful. He had a future. He had promised. He was in the elite. The last of his cum geyser shot into the air, arced, and splashed heavily on the sopping marley floor beneath him. His shoulders slumped and he dropped his hands to his sides. So why was he still bothered by something he couldn’t quite figure out? And how come that evil little muscle boy Joe Tiffany looked so familiar to him. Who was he? And why couldn’t he put his finger on it? Casey bent to put what was left of his ripped and shredded posing trunks back on. They barely covered his cock, but he didn’t notice. He waddled to the door of the wrestling room to head back to his quarters for the night. Tomorrow he would move into his new room. He had a lot to think about. He’d have to think about it all.
  14. The first two chapters of my muscle novel-in-progress, The Twenty. Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes the twentieth muscle god, young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 19-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decades-long Project, itself only now beginning to suggest its full potential. Introduction The 3-story steel, glass, and concrete compound was snugly nestled in the misty rural hills that rolled gently inland from the ocean, where the Santa Ana winds met the hot air rising from the distant desert to the east. Poised at the edge of the highest peak of the Santa Cruz Mountains, the 4,000-acre gated complex was just barely visible from the discreet entrance on Pacific Coast Highway below. A single sign stood at the locked automatic entrance gate, reading - Private No Outlet The private drive wound up the mountain, snaking through dark woods of redwood and pine, finally arriving at the labyrinth of vine-covered high concrete walls, topped with barbed wire, which surrounded the entire complex. Closed circuit cameras marked every turn of the road. Manicured lawns and open fields could be occasionally glimpsed through thick veils of leaves, branches and red rock. 350 miles south was Los Angeles. San Jose was the closest city, 30 miles away. Local residents drove past the gate on Pacific Coast Highway, wondering about the mysterious multi-million dollar complex. The place had seemed to spring up overnight, seemingly from nothing, more than 10 years before. The traffic in and out was largely limited to food delivery and supply vans. Unseen generators hummed through the night. The people who worked there appeared to be in residence. Was it an athletic training facility? Low planes flying overhead clearly identified a likely indoor Olympic-sized swimming pool, bicycle trails, playing fields, and more. There were also a few outer buildings that appeared to be well-appointed dormitories, with small lawns and private drives. A building attached to the central core might possibly be a central hall, with sizable private, enclosed terraces open to the sky. Convoys of SUVs, all bearing the logo VALHALLA LABS were parked in a half-empty parking lot in front of the main building. Occasionally local delivery men, bringing whole sides of raw beef, fresh vegetables, lab equipment, chemicals, electrical supplies, and – this was the most perplexing part – hundreds of tons of expensive exercise equipment would spot one or two dozen young men on bicycles, pedaling furiously through the high hills, always followed at a discreet distance by an unmarked black car and by the one of the SUVs. From a distance the men on the bicycles appeared to be unusually large. In any event, the local deliverymen weren’t talking. Most would just shrug and say they didn’t know. Besides, they’d signed a confidentiality agreement barring their conversation about what they might happen to observe within. And since no one appeared unduly nervous about the place, over the years the matter dropped. Still, the rural locals who hung out at the motorcycle bars and music clubs nestled deep in the hills continued to buzz. Most assumed that it was some kind of military base and laboratory. Others noted the apparent residence buildings from the air, and thought it was either a private Olympic training compound, or some kind of crazy health nut cult commune. Certainly it was neither a prison nor a university. But no one really knew what it was. And over the years, little by little, the mysteriously well-tended commune was enveloped in the mists of revered local mystery, a legend the hill people of the coast, who were mostly Northern California biker clubs, surfers, horsemen, and artichoke farmers, relished and loved, without knowing anything about it. Remote, mysterious, un-Google-able, not listed on any map, no one really knew what the place was, and even less was understood. However, since it was apparent that no nuclear waste was being discharged, no one worried. No one appeared on either San Jose or San Francisco streets with appeals to join some far-out religion. No shots were fired in the night. And because, in fact, the whole compound was refreshingly green, paid its local bills on time, and was mysteriously quiet at night, for years no one really worried about the place. If only they had known it was the wellspring of the Fountain of Eternal Youth. Or, as it came to be called years later, after all the fuss and scandal and stories had finally faded into the misty aura of legend – the Lourdes of Bodybuilding. ********* This is the story about the day that it all changed forever. THE TWENTY A Government Issue Adult Cartoon -XXX- Muscle Fantasy By Joey Silverado This book is dedicated to Tiny Yokum – and to all his fans, past, present, and future. From Dr. Warren Irving’s Notes List sorted according to date of entry into program. Click tables to see details. Chapter 1: Project Herculaneum October 20th, 2021 1855 Hours In Valhalla Labs’ 15,000 square foot soundproofed gym, 18 of the longtime test subjects of Project Herculaneum were approaching the second hour of their balls-to-the-wall workout. On the west wall, one-way visibility windows framed the magnificent mountaintop panoramas in the growing twilight. As the sun disappeared, the glass increasingly glowed with the golden reflections of a roomful of massive male musculature. The workout floor crackled with the sounds of iron clangs, grunts, groans, and ecstatic roars of pain, shouts and taunts. The air was thick with hot sweat, crotch and armpit smell. Low ranking solders in the US Army, and ranging in age from 20 to 45, the 18 were, to use the argot of the world of male bodybuilding, freaks. Huge muscle freaks. Animals. Swole. Jacked to the balls. ‘Roided to the tits. Except that they weren’t ‘roided at all. Every man on the squad was clean and clear of the usual bodybuilding drugs required to build massively muscled specimens of uncommon size and strength. And they weren’t just conventionally “huge” either. All of the soldiers of Project Herculaneum were fired by one supplement only. P21. And Project Herculaneum, now approaching the end of its first decade, was finally yielding the astonishing results promised from the beginning back in 2007. The Project Director and Genius Factotum, Dr. Ira Zaftig, had long dubbed his lab creation enzyme P21, “The Fountain of Youth.” The wellspring of eternal energy, strength, youth, beauty, and sexual power. Perhaps the secret of life itself. The Men of Project Herculaneum thought of P21 differently, though. “It’s the straightest line between two mostly unreachable points: freaky muscle, and ba-boom!” Or so said Private 1st Class Dan Gunst, a 6’-10”, 375-pound mountain of ripped muscle whose growth on the enzyme had surprised even project founder Zaftig. Off to one side, the 19th man on the squad squatted on a bench and closely surveyed the men's training with half-lidded eyes. By far the largest man in the room, CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster’s muscular perfection was unparalled, even in this room of freakishly huge men. Squared-jawed and blindingly handsome, 44-year old Rod Moster was 7’- 0” tall, weighing in at 395 ripped and shredded pounds, a black mountain of solidly ridged muscle: deeply separated, profoundly striated sheer muscle mass, boasting a body fat index of 1.2%. Dr. Zaftig was the heart and genius creator of Project Herculaneum. The squad and their CO were the ongoing subjects of his personally supervised “Top Secret” project. For years, the men had been receiving regular lab-controlled injections of Zaftig’s carefully developed muscle growth enzyme, P21. Sergeant Moster, on the enzyme for more than a decade, was the project’s powerful senior officer and unopposed trainer. Yet in spite of Moster's formidable size and strength, he was soon to be equaled by two of the soldiers in his direct command, Corporal Karim Abdul and Private Gunst. He knew it, too. The workout room met Moster’s strict standards. Room temperature was always set exactly at 90o. Moster would not allow air-conditioning on the workout floor. After all, sweat lubricates muscles and encourages growth. No one disputed Moster's rules. On a sprung workout floor measuring 10,000 square feet, there were two dozen squat racks, 42 benches, 8 rows with hundreds of dumbbells ranging from 5 to 300 pounds, and hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of gleaming machines, standing bicycles, elliptical tracks, cable racks, ropes, belts, grips, and stacks of weights. Hundreds and hundreds of tons of weights. In the distant corners of the gym, a few normal-sized Valhalla lab assistants scurried silently in the shadows with video equipment, towels, heavy water jugs, and cleaning equipment. The men on the floor never paid any attention to the pipsqueak lab rats, as they called them. Occasionally, one of the pipsqueaks meekly approached Sgt. Moster with questions or a need for direction. Moster was always gracious, brief and business-like with lab underlings. They were Zaftig’s people, after all, and he appreciated that it just might be difficult to recruit them. More importantly, the lab rats were not, after all, muscle worshippers. Geeky science majors somehow matriculated from Berkeley and Stanford, their applications for their employment were most thoroughly scanned to determine both their dedication to science, and their lack of sexual interest in the project subjects. Past circumstances had indicated that the men of Project Herculaneum were unusually vulnerable when it came to the possibilities implied by muscle worshippers. The less of that from outsiders, the better. For now, anyway. Besides, there was real money to be made with the advent of worship. That would come later. Above all, Moster didn’t want to water down the future possibilities. Some day, when all this was over, there was a lot of money to be made. Moster was counting on it. Under his leadership, the goals of his 18 musclemen were never ending, their focus never dulled by the daily routine of their sequestered lives inside the Valhalla Compound. And for Moster, it was all about building muscle. Solid, rock-hard, healthy, powerful muscle. Muscle supported by bones and internal organ strength. Whereas Dr. Zaftig was compelled to his daily grind of endless lab research and observation of the men by his quest for eternal youth, Moster was not distracted by such vague, high-minded creationist illusions. All Moster cared about was that his men develop huge, serious, ripped, dominant, clean, overpowering muscle, muscle like the world had never seen before. Moster relished the fact that his extraordinary development was still a constant inspiration to his men. He generally preferred to remain completely covered, rarely choosing to display his magnificent physique. His custom-built oversized sweatsuits were carefully tailored to camouflage his physique while not hindering movement. They were heavily reinforced at the seams to avoid tears and bursting, and were neutral in construction and color. The sweat pants were gathered into tight stretch bands at Moster’s ankles. He generally wore combat boots and a white do-rag. But even the careful design of more than 25 yards of a blend of durable synthetics and heavy cotton couldn’t disguise Moster’s 60-inch wide shoulder girth, 7'-6" reach, 70-inch chest, 36-inch quadriceps and 25-inch calves. An observer might only be able to guess at the Sergeants’ biceps, triceps, and brachialis size. Moster chose to wear his sweatshirt loose, masking a slender, powerfully shaped 32-inch waistline. He never tucked it in, always making certain he was successfully covering his crotch. He had his reasons for this, which were well known by his men. Whenever Moster appeared in uniform, or civilian clothing, his appearance was all but terrifying – and, at the same time, insanely alluring. Rod Moster's boxing, wrestling, and extreme fighting skills were superior to all but Corporal Karim. Moreover, by now in this stage of team development, Moster found he had to work harder than his men in order to maintain the very slight edge he still held. Zaftig knew this, much to Moster’s subtle discomfort. He knew could be unseated by the right man at any time. Project Herculaneum was that far along. He remained proud of his team, knowing as he did that some day soon they might surpass him. When it became apparent to all that his long-held edge over the others was narrowing, a few of the men privately anticipated the day that he might finally be bested by one of the 18. The bets were on Karim Abdul, though Abdul had no particular vendetta against Moster; all the same, it would be a day of reckoning for the alpha CO, to atone for some of the more painful and humiliating extra-curricular disciplines he had long enforced. Hey, as long as that day doesn’t come too soon, he would joke in the mess hall. And all would laugh, even as they exchanged meaningful glances. Moster’s dedication to Project Herculaneum was total, even if it did lead him to occasionally lock horns with the dreamy, physically underdeveloped senior genius Dr. Zaftig. The 67-year old Zaftig was both crafty and kind-hearted. Though he held a basic unshakable respect for all, he was not above manipulating the men’s fragile psyches to get what he wanted out of them, and he made it a priority to know and understand all of them for their personal strengths and weaknesses. Over the years, it had been hard work finding and inducting these particularly gifted men into the program, and, once introduced, each man represented years of painstaking research, investment, time and testing. It was only right that he would pay close attention to what made each man tick. On the other hand, Moster preferred to accent his authority with an occasional dash of cruelty. He felt it was good for the team. After all, life was cruel, wasn’t it? And so together, Zaftig and Moster had forged a decade-long alliance of good cop/bad cop, each man sharing in his own personal way a common goal. Both cared only for the success of Project Herculaneum. At base, however, they held profoundly different motives. Zaftig hoped to find the perfect candidate for P21. As magnificent as the 19 men were, the final, perfect genetic recipient of the miraculous compound had yet to be discovered. Sergeant Moster, meanwhile, had other plans. All those worship sessions loomed ahead on a promising horizon of money, power, travel, and new opportunities. After all, Moster wasn’t a fool. Zaftig might be, but he certainly wasn’t. Chapter 2: P21 1987-2021 Ira Zaftig’s 2007 successful lab synthesis of Protein P21 promised nothing less than a physical revolution for all mankind. For more than 30 years, the eccentric, obsessed, and touched with genius, Harvard Med educated Dr. Ira Zaftig had parlayed a vast inherited private fortune and the proceeds of his own lucrative San Francisco medical practice into ongoing lab research and experiments. At first, he sought to develop nothing less than an injectable synthetic that would, of course, cure cancer. The usual dream of every young medical researcher, the youthful and wealthy Zaftig, heir to a lumber empire long sold to a larger conglomerate for a lifetime profit that elevated him into the 1%-ers, had the means to set up a private lab to do it. Over the years, that cure for cancer evolved into something else. As he aged, Zaftig grew more interested in creating a formula permanently extending youth, while enhancing physical strength and systemic health. The years passed with no result. Zaftig grew more obsessed, and eventually discarded his practice. He never married and avoided personal relationships, building an impressive private lab in the Santa Rosa Mountains outside San Jose. And he became a hermit whose life routine was only about continual research, testing, developing, synthesizing, note-taking, and video review. He amassed a team, whose job it was to test protocol after protocol on lab rats, guinea pigs, and rhesus monkeys. None of the animals, he was satisfied to note, were ever harmed by his injections, but none ever exhibited any permanent signs of renewed vigor, either. It was as if they were injected by harmless placebos. Over time, lab teams noted some temporary strength and health benefits in some, not all, of the lab animals. The effects were temporary, at best, and it was difficult to determine which animal might feel the effects, and which ones would not. Zaftig assumed sympathetic systems were required for any effects at all to take place. By 1998, Zaftig had engaged as his permanent first assistant the all but silent, studious, equally hermetic Dr. Warren Irving, whose natural reticence disguised fervor equal to Zaftig’s. By then, Zaftig’s ever-growing lab employed small army of coming-and-going lab workers, security personnel and personal administrators, whose silence and trust was purchased with time-stamped temporary employment terms, astonishing starting salaries and carefully drafted legal confidentiality contracts, were on hand in the continually refurbished lab facility, now enlarged into a complex of some size. Since Zaftig was seeking the creation of a God, he appropriately named his ever-growing facility Valhalla Labs. At first, in the specialized world of pure research outside the lab, ‘Zaftig’s Folly’, as came to be referred to, was an unending in-joke on the perils of vanity research. However, it was equally observed that any man or woman who had served in Zaftig’s lab emerged silent, circumspect, and deeply respectful about what went on within. Over the years, the jokes stopped, and by the late 1990s, ambitious young researchers hoped to spend a few seasons at the secluded lab, if for only to slake curiosity – and to make a lot of money. Still, the lab had produced nothing. No patents had been applied for. On it went, year after year. Then, after 30 years of steady non-production, in 2003 the 53-year old Zaftig had a breakthrough. A crop of lab male lab animals appeared dramatically invigorated by a trial run of newly developed formula. Careful notations of animal behavior indicated that the rejuvenation of the lab animals was deeply organic in nature. Most importantly, after protocols were ceased, the effects remained. And the animals grew surprisingly. They did not become monsters, but measured, in some cases, a quarter larger in size and weight than they were at the outset. They were somewhat more aggressive, too, but, as all were relieved to note, did not become, maddened, dangerous or even slightly mean. In fact, personal handlers reported that the animals appeared “cheerful” and “playful.” They also, when allowed, copulated with the other males, and sometimes the females, almost continuously. This was noted by Zaftig, who duly recorded it. Dr. Irving felt Zaftig somewhat ignored the sinister implications. After a year of continually successful lab animal results in select males, it was finally time for the first human trial. Zaftig, ever the Henry Jekyll tried P21on himself. The results were disastrous: violent vomiting, nosebleeds and headaches forced Zaftig into a week of bed rest. “Wrong genetics,” he had to admit to himself. He assumed the formula was a failure for humans, and lived in despair for weeks. Once recovered, he volunteered for trial his chief lab assistant, the meek, complicit, and nearly silent Dr. Irving. The injection nearly killed him. In sympathetic systems, it was as if evolution was sped up 10,000 years. P21 was capable of creating nothing less than jaw-dropping gigantism, coupled with glowing organic health, visually stunning physical perfection, astonishing strength, grace, speed, coordination, and renewed sexual energy. It only worked on X-Y heterogametic chromosome pairings – that is to say, on human males. Moreover, at this point in its development, it was successfully observed in very few subjects. Because of the necessary secrecy of the project, Zaftig lacked proper comparative controls, but by his estimation, he calculated P21 to be beneficial for only 1 out of every 1,000 men. However, for that one recipient, the sky was the limit. Zaftig finally saw the light on a subject for whom the formula might work when he met Rod Moster. That was in 2006. Moster was facing prison then, charged with manslaughter. Zaftig had heard all about the man’s prodigious muscularity, and got him the best defense money could buy. Moster served 1 year, and was released. Zaftig awaited him at the prison gates, ready to whisk him away to the Santa Rosa Mountains, to another kind of a prison, and yet one that Moster would soon relish. And so, in 2007, Rod Moster (soon to be Sergeant, USAC, hurriedly and secretly enlisted) became Project Herculaneum’s first official entrant. The already competition-trained superheavyweight bodybuilder Moster took to P21 like a duck to water – or, rather, like gasoline to fire. And Moster beat even Zaftig’s greatest expectations. Muscles bloomed on muscle. Strength quadrupled. Now that he had a perfectly responsive candidate, Zaftig was eager to find another. Later in 2007, another superheavyweight bodybuilder, the near-silent Turkish giant Abdul Karim, was discovered at Raw Weight, the hardcore San Jose gym owned by 50-year old retired pro bodybuilder legend Miles Donovan. Immediately whisked into the program, Moster and Karim trained like madmen in the Valhalla Labs compound, where a new gym was put into construction just for the two of them. They didn’t much like one another, but that led to heightened competition, tension, anger, and, inevitably, greater muscle growth. And now Zaftig could make some truly accurate notes on the success of P21 in sympathetic systems. Zaftig observed in his lab notes that it was as if the full assimilation of P21 triggered alterations in deep genetic timestamp coding. It was exactly as if the body suddenly redefined its male development to date as late ‘childhood’, and began to take itself into something like a new ‘adolescence’, blooming into a new definition of ‘adulthood’. Consequently, accompanied by proper training and consistent regulation of nutrition and rest cycles, muscular growth was not just enhanced; it was prompted into a supersonic explosion unlike anything Zaftig had anticipated. As intended in trial development, P21 was, in effect, nothing less than a miracle formula, successful beyond Zaftig’s wildest imaginings. He was still tinkering with it in the lab, however, in hopes that somehow he might find the key to more universal acceptance, including female development. The injected enzyme boosted performance, it seemed, only in those recipients whose natural dopamine and endorphin levels had already reached a certain high capacity, following either years of regular workouts, or a monitored high-intensity training in very young, genetically predisposed teens. Moreover, once on the enzyme and going forward, steroids, regular insulin injections, pain blockers, and growth hormone proved not only unnecessary, but also potentially dangerous. A protocol of P21 worked best on a naïve system, or, at the very least, a metabolism cleaned over time from the longtime effects of other injectables. Mental acuity was not diminished, but then again, it wasn’t improved, either. At first, Zaftig had been disappointed P21 didn’t produce intellectual giants as well, but in time he accepted it. After all, as long as subjects weren’t rendered newly stupid by the protocol, and followed orders, he accepted that it wasn’t really an issue. It was about muscles and strength, not smarts. More subjects were introduced into the program. By 2011, the men in the program included competitive bodybuilders Rene Lefevre, Herman Schumacher, Anthony Chad, Derek Washington, and William Obatu. Muscle monsters all at the outset, and mostly discovered by Miles Donovan, as each man moved into the compound and began the training and the protocols, their size and strength increased with rapid gains measureable almost daily. Most astonishingly, perhaps, was the measurable growth in each man’s height. Over time, all recipients grew anywhere from 2 to 5 inches taller. The skeletal structure itself was affected by regular injections of P21, and bones lengthened and thickened throughout each man’s body. The principal area of bone growth appeared to be in the legs, but even the arm bones slightly lengthened. A 6’-0” man with a finger-to-finger reach of 6’-3” before injections was gradually able to reach a length of 5 inches in addition to his newly gained height. The lengthened arms, of course, gave the men a slightly ape-like appearance, with the tips of their fingers now brushing the patella of each kneecap. However, the men did not become ungainly as a result, seemed to grow at the same time in natural grace and motor coordination. Muscular density almost doubled, strength nearly quadrupled, subcutaneous fat tissue was nearly eliminated. Muscular separations, ripples, cuts, and deep tissue striations appeared where before, even on a beautifully developed physique, there had been nothing but smoothness. Muscles roiled and bloomed with magnificent grace. Even symmetry improved; it was as if the muscular system had developed an over-all critical eye as to the proper balance and sweep necessary for each man to remain at optimum performance levels. Even so, with the loss of subcutaneous fat, waist size was stunningly diminished. Within six months of starting injections, a formerly 200 pound muscular man with a standard 34” waistline would find himself sporting a mere 30” at his midsection, with his rectus abdominus muscles and lower obliques newly reknit into interlocking, striated layers of shapely support musculature, easily able to carry the newly burgeoning upper body mass. His bodyweight would shoot up at least 20 pounds, all of it lean muscle mass. Fast-twitch and slow-twitch muscles were affected alike: a man on P21 was not only able to lift almost impossibly heavy weights, but run like the wind. Motor-nerve coordination profoundly improved. Endurance was beyond imagining. Although the subjects’ diets were kept clean, this appeared to have little effect one way or the other. As long as the men were regularly fed full meals six times a day, and drank a quotidian 3 gallons of water, then diet itself was moot. However, to maintain the psychological fiction that diet was still “important”, food selections were limited to lean meats, arrays of vegetables and proper complex carbs. The men held the “no veggies” diets of standard, “middle earth” bodybuilders in profound contempt. “If it’s green, it’s good,” was the mantra. With the six meals a day and the explosion of muscle growth, human waste products predictably doubled. The men seemed to require 30 minutes daily for proper excretion. Each man found himself pissing rivers of bright, clean urine. Happily, their digestion systems were as efficient as could be hoped for, and pleasure-filled howls filled the residence halls periodically as the men eagerly shat their meals. “A good shit is like great sex,” Obatu observed. Pissing was as pleasurable, for as powerful as their kidneys were, each man produced ropes of healthy white piss, like clockwork, 5 times a day. Their glowing prostate health allowed them to empty their bladders thoroughly with each resoundingly copious piss. A man on P21 would also exhibit astonishing skin health. Blemishes and scars faded to nothingness. The men’s complexions glowed as if powered by an inner laser. Hair health flourished, and though some of the men on the protocol preferred to shave their heads, it was not for a lack of healthy follicles. Even the bald Sergeant Schumacher, hairless as a wombat when he entered the program, was delighted to see his full head of hair restored within six months. Later, however, in response to other psychological effects, he chose to shave it off daily. Normal pain thresholds decreased proportionately. Sleep cycles were not affected. Over time, any already-accomplished athlete’s natural talents were likely to be exponentially sharpened. Newly recorded performance benchmarks surpassed any previous personal best. In short, the benefits were astounding - provided the recipient was initially genetically gifted to begin with, and had already achieved a certain performance level. Once P21 had been introduced into the system, after 3 years of weekly injections, Zaftig had discovered the protocol must be carefully monitored, and in some cases, stopped for periods of time. Not everyone developed at the same rate. Once the protocol was stopped, the successful manifesting effects enjoyed by the recipient to date would not be lost, but any continuing development would slow and finally stall. However, to avoid trauma, the project’s subjects weren’t informed of this, and several of the older men had been receiving intermittent placebos for years, in order to avoid a state of psychological withdrawal. More seriously, and although Zaftig was not yet certain of the veracity of his latest finding, he was keen to observe with a continued injection schedule, that the men’s aging processes seemed to stop entirely. This is the most sensitive of all the information he gathered, and the top-secret introduction of placebos disguised the anti-aging effects for the older men in the project. It was critical that this be kept a closely guarded secret. Was part of P21’s astonishing potential the end of natural aging? Zaftig was at war with himself on this point. As a scientist, he was elated. As a sympathetic human being, he was appalled. No one but he and the deeply trusted Dr. Irving were aware of indications that P21 was The Fountain of Youth. And just as P21 seemed to promise unending anti-aging, not all of the other developmental effects could be anticipated. Nor were they, in fact, terribly convenient. Its extraordinary properties included some rather startling, not to say unexpected, priapic side effects, which had first manifested themselves in the first guinea pig lab rat Sergeant Moster, nearly 15 years before. Since then, as new men successfully entered the project, different results were recorded for different recipients. All the same, universally P21 provided something like miraculous growth and enhancement for all who responded to it. Even now, in 2021, Zaftig could only guess how it might manifest itself in different subjects. Zaftig didn’t really want to deal with the complexity of the multiple sexual side effects. For there were surprising sexual benefits as well. After all, a physically evolving male always experiences a coinciding change in sexual stats and activity. What he had not anticipated was the dramatic extent of these changes. Zaftig discovered it not long after he first tried it out on Moster in 2007. The most observable immediate change was the startling increase in genital size. At the outset of his induction into the program, Rod Moster’s penis was already unusually large, looming forth when erect at a majestic 8 inches. While impressive on most men, all the same for a muscleman of Moster’s size and development, in appearance, it came off as merely average. All that changed once Moster entered the program. Six months after beginning the P21 protocol, even when flaccid, Moster’s penis measured just over 10 inches. When erect, it approached 16 inches. Midnight black, cobra-thick, and lightly laced with a cross section of interlocking capillaries shooting off from two pulsing central shaft veins, it had become a dangerous, dazzlingly beautiful machine. In fact, Moster’s penis had become a weapon. While he was delighted with his newly gargantuan cock, it presented him no end of trouble. For one thing, there was simply no hiding it in his clothing. His dress slacks uniform trousers had been custom-fitted to accommodate his massive quads, glutes, hamstrings and calves. Now, unless he wore specially designed rubber mesh briefs under his slacks that firmly restrained him, his slack member lay lazily on his quads, with muffled slapping against his thighs as he walked. The flies of all his clothing had to be forged from blue steel, and even so, were doubly reinforced to prevent bursting from the strain. Standard bodybuilding posing trunks were all but impossible if he wanted to remain covered; his cock and balls simply didn’t fit in any pouch. Most of the time, Moster chose to wear ultra-baggy sweats, with the sweatshirt hanging down to his thighs to cover the always-looming member. Otherwise, it was all just too distracting. Over time, Dr. Zaftig discovered that for all enrollees into the program, the size of the subject’s genitalia similarly grew to outlandishly large proportions. A man with average endowment was soon delighted to note that his organ, when flaccid, enlarged half again in length, girth, and stamina. A man considered ‘well hung’ at the outset would enjoy even greater growth. But that wasn’t all. Moster quickly realized a greater sexual appetite to match his newly achieved girth. Soon after injections began, normal societal behavioral blockers that prevent many men from acting on their fantasies all but vanished. Deeply buried sexual fantasies began to seem not merely attainable, but regularly actionable. Over time, the sexual activity of the subject became an all-pervasive cycle of, at first, increasing need, accompanied by a single-minded determination to fulfill the fantasy. Moreover, it was apparent that the recipients of P21 responded with particularly heightened sexual energy and passion to other recipients of the enzyme. So-called heterosexuality was no longer an issue: choice was abandoned. The men needed close supervision to keep their sexual activity confined to the proper hours, settings, and duration. And it took some doing to keep the men in line. Of course, any partner was possible for the men. As long as their muscles were the source of longing, they were eager to spread their copious seed in any number of ways, among any number of partners. Fortunately, a psychological fail-safe was built into the men’s newly ripening sexual psyches. The men were at their most vulnerable when presenting their muscularity to outsiders. Always able to leap into swift action, whether fighting, flexing, posing, Zaftig discovered after some carefully administered lab control tests that if the men were confronted with levels of apparent sexual unresponsiveness from observers, their sexual impulses were notably dampened. While their overall athletic, training, and bodybuilding prowess was never diminished, the translation of muscle energy into unfettered sexual energy did not occur unless observers explicitly expressed longing. In other words, the men needed to be sexually worshipped, gawked at, touched, stroked, admired and longed for in order to become aroused. They needed to flex their powerful biceps and rotate their mountainous quads for the stunned and appreciative. It was slightly ironic, therefore, that these astonishing physical specimens of undeniable Alpha males were, actually, subservient to the atmosphere of admiration. Indifference seemed to cow the men into silence and confusion – all except Sergeant Moster, of course, whose internal sexual battery was always on full charge levels. Fortunately, for the orderly continuation of Project Herculaneum, Sergeant Moster was aware of what he called “the Kryptonite effect” on his men. He could douse their sexual energy easily with a disparaging glance or an offhand comment. The small army of resident support staff, facilities associates, cafeteria and maintenance personnel, and office and lab workers were duly advised not to show any sexual interest in the men on any level. Zaftig himself was never troubled by the issue. Proud of his men, he nevertheless seemed to regard them as his “boys”, growing adolescent sons, in whom he had nothing but the purest parental love, devoid of any sexuality. Moster was more than well qualified to handle that job. Zaftig took a step back, promising himself that “some day” he’d approve a comprehensive study on P21 and sex. Over time, the psychological benefits had proved addictive. In other words, P21 was crack cocaine for bodybuilders. Any man receiving regular injections of P21 had to be handled with extreme care and caution, which necessitated a largely cloistered lifestyle. They were simply not ready for general public release. Nor was the public ready for them. To be continued.....
  15. Previous chapters: "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable appetite to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his ever-growing need to receive equal doses of both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Chapter 9: Good for Morale, Continued Oral was hardly uncommon in the compound. In fact, Moster encouraged it. And Zaftig was fascinated by the men’s hunger for it, though he never took part. Not long after starting a P21 protocol, each man had developed insatiable an insatiable need to suck and be sucked. Cocksucking was therefore more than just a healthy release for the men: it was now mandatory. And though none of them would acknowledge themselves to be 100% gay, part of their acceptance into the program relied on each man’s private original tendencies towards pansexuality, boosted as they were by the behavioral blockers of P21. Over the years, each of the bodybuilders in Project Herculaneum had at one time or another sucked every other bodybuilder’s cock to full release many dozens of times. Often it happened in the showers after training, but sometimes it was after meals, as well. And as all were superlatively endowed with astonishing penises of uncommon weight, size, length, beauty and girth, no one was disappointed. Even Abdul Karim took part, much to the surprise of everyone. Though he never talked about it, even appearing bored, the more observant men noted a gleam in his eye each time he bent to service Gunst. Oral was against the rules on rest days. By the time training days came around again, the musclemen were already laughing, slapping each other on the backs during meals, and smacking their lips in anticipation. Fucking was another matter. All the men had been vaccinated against the virulent STDs that had long ravaged the world, and were now immune to any infection, their antibodies remorselessly attacking any invader. Butt fucking was an art. The soldiers were all equipped with powerful machines, all endowed with superb glutes, and all highly in touch with the pure waves of pleasure broadcast by their sensitive prostates. Good muscle butt fucking was serious stuff. As all the men were huge, heavy, and powerfully strong, it was like heavy lifting crossed with pure animal pleasure: one bull fucking another bull. Vigorously. Group fucks of spirited, high-energy muscle daisy chains were a once-a-month event, seriously organized and generally preserved on video for the records. Wearing full black leather masks in order to remain as anonymous as possible, and with deep black satin robes covering their individually distinctive bodies, the men gathered in the dimmed mess hall and connected their dicks to the next asshole in a line-up deliberately arranged by Moster. Muscle worship was not part of the evening. The point was prostate manipulation and bonding. Still, private fucking was not discouraged. A few of the men had distinct preferences for one another as fuck buddy, even as the cocksucking was group-wide and free-for-all. Of course, Schumacher had been fucking them all for years – except for Karim, of course. Apart from the daisy-chain sessions, no one dared to even approach Killer Karim from the rear - if he valued his teeth, that is. But so far, as far as he knew, no one man in particular had privately fucked Joe Tiffany – apart from the scheduled group daisy-chain fucks, where Moster was careful to make sure that the connections varied from session to session. Schumacher had fucked him just once in a group session, although as always as always he was masked and gowned. He could see through Tiffany’s mask that his eyes were rolling back in his head in pleasure, and Schumacher wasn’t sure Tiffany knew who he was. He knew it was Joe Tiffany’s muscular rear he was fucking, however, sliding up and down his supercharged big cock. That butt was pure, beautiful gold, a magically shaped combination of soft skin and raw, ripped power that was mind-boggling in its balance and tireless in its energy. Tiffany had taken charge of the fucking, as he gave it to the taller muscleman in the chain ahead of him, powerfully blasting forward into the glutes ahead of him, and, in perfect timing, also pumping his animal butt up and down on Schumacher’s cock with furiously blind energy. For his part, Tiffany knew full well whose cock had impaled his perfect butt that night. He didn’t share this information. From that night, he had a plan. Another plan, that is. In reality, all of the men were deeply aware of whose butts they were servicing, and who was manfully plugging his own from behind. The men had spent too many hours together in the rec room, on the workout floor, in classes and in the showers, not to be able to instantly recognize and distinguish each of his buddies. The wearing of the robes was nothing but a farce, but still they conceded, secretly further aroused by the spectacle of the volumes of black fabric draped with alluring mystery over each man’s rippling physique. Still, from that night on, Joe Tiffany knew that Herman Schumacher was just the man to regularly plow his supple, needy, bodybuilder-cupcakes behind. All he had to do was train him just a little bit over the following few months to ensure that he was captive, obedient, and would always be on call whenever Tiffany was of a mind to be mindlessly fucked. In the mean time, at night in his quarters his oversized dildo was getting the workout he bought it to do during one of his rare trips to town. He would energetically shove it deep into his butthole, rear his head back, close his eyes, and dream of Schumacher’s likely powerful thrusts. And, as Moster always said to Dr. Zaftig, who wasn’t entirely comfortable with the ritual behind the group fucks, “They need more sex than ordinary men. A lot more sex. Their metabolisms demand it. Besides – “ And Zaftig would say with him, in unison, “It’s good for morale.” Waring was screaming in Gunst’s face. Steve Waring “Come on, asshole! What’s the matter, pansy ass? Can’t you do it? You’ve only done 12 so far, butthead. What’s the problem, 200 pounds too heavy for you to curl, baby boy?” Gunst’s face was screwed into a mask of lip-curling, teeth-crunching pain as he vainly tried to complete the 13th rep. His biceps were exploding. The veins in his neck stood out like steel cables. His face bloomed deep crimson. He screamed. He couldn’t do it. He strained and squeezed and tried again, and his arms froze mid-rep, unmoving, the biceps bulging with 23 inches of shattering power. Suddenly he threw the weight to the floor, where it crashed resoundingly, echoing throughout the compound. Waring jumped back a little to avoid getting hit by the bar. The other men never stopped work, nor did they look up. Moster strode over to them. “What’s the problem here, Private Gunst?” “I – I couldn’t do it, sir,” said Gunst, backing away and mopping his face with his huge hand. Ashamed, he lowered his head. Fountains of his sweat splashed onto the floor. Moster turned to Waring. “What set was he on?” “Sir, he had completed five sets of 15 reps each, sir.” “Successfully?” “Yes, sir.” Gunst glanced nervously down at Sergeant Moster’s twitching palm. Moster hadn’t punished anyone yet tonight for slacking, and he knew it was about time he’d want to show his authority over the men. He needn’t have worried. Moster smiled kindly. “That’s actually pretty damn good, Private Gunst,” said Sergeant Moster. “Waring, take care of this man, and then let’s see him try again.” “Yes, sir,” said Waring. The young bodybuilder quickly got to his knees, lifted Gunst’s pulsing cock out of his barely restraining jockstrap, brought it tenderly up to his lips, and began to suck it deeply. Gunst closed his eyes and reared his head back thankfully. Immediately his cock was at full erection, throbbing and pulsing in Waring’s mouth. On white cap nights, cocksucking was permitted on the workout floor only if approved by Moster. “Use your lips, Private,” directed Moster, “the way we’ve discussed. You know the way Private Gunst likes it.” Waring nodded eagerly and mouthed the young man’s giant throbbing organ. “Pump your hips, Gunst.” Gunst began manfully plowing Waring’s good-looking, All-American face. “Harder.” Gunst pumped harder, and the satisfying sucking sounds grew louder, adding to the din. Waring thoroughly licked the cock up and down its full length, and rubbed it against the two-day old beard stubble of his cheeks. “Scratchy,” moaned Gunst with pleasure, his eyes closed. He plunged in again. Tiffany nudged his darkly handsome training partner Private Lang, who was just finishing a set of pull-downs. “Check ‘em out,” he murmured, winking and pointing. Lang turned and smiled broadly at the dreamily cocksucking Waring. “Waring always was a good cocksucker,” he said, just a shade too loudly. “You have a problem, Private Lang?” Moster’s voice boomed through the room. Tiffany ducked his head towards the pull down machine. Lang went white. “No, sir,” he stammered. “I think you do. Get over here.” Here it comes, chuckled Gunst to himself, watching the intimidated Lang stumble forward meekly as Waring, below, hungrily sucked his throbbing big cock. “Go get your punishment, man,” whispered a grinning, sweating Corporal Lefevre, punching the shame-faced Lang on the shoulder as he passed. Alvarez watched expressionlessly. “Take it like a man,” he murmured Alvarez as Lang passed him. He flashed a hard look at Tiffany. He knew what he was doing, getting Lang on the hot seat. He’d pay. Later. The hot seat. Indeed. 5’-11”, 280-pound Lang, streamlined with ripped, striated muscle and dripping with sweat, approached Moster and stood at rigid attention before him. He saluted. Sighing, acting as though he were resigned to the inevitable task of discipline before him, the giant Sergeant Moster sat heavily on one of the benches. By now the men were all looking away in a mix of nervousness, embarrassment, eagerness and excitement. Lang stood motionless, staring straight ahead in perfect attention, dreading the humiliation about to befall him. “Was something funny, Lang?” “No, sir.” “You don’t find Private Waring funny?” Lang glanced nervously at Waring, who greedily sucked cock. “No, sir.” “What are the rules, Private?” “We are respectful of the need for regular oral stimulation, sir.” “And why are we?” “It’s good for morale, sir.” “Was your comment good for morale, Lang?” Lang was ashamed. “No, sir.” “No. Let’s get to it, Private.” “Yes, sir.” Lang relaxed his attention, gulped, and quickly slipped out of his sopping t-shirt. He squeezed large droplets of sweat out on the marley surface of the gym floor and tossed it resignedly in the growing puddle. Standing before Moster a little pathetically, he was a muscle giant about to be chastised by an even larger muscle giant. Silently, submissively, he bent over Sergeant Moster’s powerful quads and lay prone on his lap. Moster, his fingers twitching, raised his palm. He paused a moment. “How long has it been, Private?” “Since when, sir?” Through Moster’s sweatsuit Lang could feel the man’s enormous penis, relaxed across the top of the sergeant’s right thigh, press against his abs. “Since I had to discipline you in front of the men, Private?” “About two months, sir.” Moster glanced down appraisingly at the beautiful, trembling glutes that lay gleaming over his knee. He paused, his hand held aloft, inspecting with internal approval. “You were training legs tonight, weren’t you, Private?” he asked. The suspense was killing Lang. “Yes, sir, I was, sir.” “Squatting deep?” “Yes, sir.” “Keeping good form?” “I think so, sir.” “Good, Private. This will supplement your workout tonight. Heat helps muscles grow.” With calloused, powerful palms, his thick fingers spread wide for maximum sting, Sergeant Moster sharply spanked the muscleman’s rocky glutes with carefully applied, deeply resonant butt smacks. Lang twisted and turned on his lap. After a few sharp spanks he cried out. “Sir, it stings, sir!” Tears spouted from his eyes. “Goddamn right it stings.” Moster turned to Gunst, watching from a few feet away with wide eyes, his large cock sliding deeply in and out of Waring’s mouth. “Fuck face, Private,” he commanded. “Yes sir!” shouted Gunst. He placed his hands on the back of Waring’s head and pumped his hips rhythmically as Waring, his mouth full of cock, moaned with deep satisfaction. The rest of the squad was watching. Moster could see all were now getting visibly excited. Their jocks were starting to bulge fearsomely, and two or three massive penis heads had popped out of their restraining pouches. “Get back to work!” Moster commanded, and without hesitation, the men turned back to their weights and began to lift again with renewed zeal. Gunst’s huge body shuddered, and a river of thick cum began spurting out of Waring’s mouth and down his chin. “UUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHHH!” he roared. Waring was moaning deeply as the desperately swallowed the pint of semen pouring down his throat. By the time he was finished shooting his load, Moster was steadily applying the 25th blow to Lang’s shiny red, twitching musclebutt. Moster issued his next order. “See that you finish that set properly, Gunst, or you’re next on the hot seat.” “Yes, sir!” he shouted, stuffing his dripping, still hard cock back into his stained jock as best he could as Waring, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, scrambled to his feet. “Spot me,” Gunst said to Waring, and, grabbing the weight, he peeled off 15 perfect-form, agonizingly correct curls. Waring, doing his best to ignore both his own achingly enlarged cock and the yet looming bulge in Gunst’s jockstrap, and with the splotches of cum still dripping down his face, spotted him with as much concentration as he could muster. “1! 2! 3!” Waring counted the reps, filled with admiration as Gunst’s mountainous biceps exploded with power. As Waring shouted the count, Moster applied another heavy smack for each rep to the quivering, deeply scarlet, muscular bottom of Private Lang, who, over his knees, groaned deeply with a blend of humiliation, excitement and pain. As he spanked, Moster called out loudly to the men. “Attention! Men!” “7! 8! 9! 10!” Spank! The man snapped into attention from wherever they stood around the workout floor. “Tonight you will be meeting our newest recruit in Project Herculaneum.” Spank! Spank! “From this evening on, we will now be known as The Twenty.” Spank! Spank! Spank! The men stood at rigid attention. “Yes, sir!” they shouted. “And remember, men,” said Moster, grinning down at handsome Private Lang stretched over his knees, who had tears in his eyes and whose face was almost – but not quite – as beet red as the handprints on his perfect butt, “being spanked by me is a badge of honor. Never be ashamed when I call you forward to the hot seat have your butts whipped. I do not pay such honorific attentions to anyone outside the squad.” Spank! Spank! “18! 19! 20! 21!” “Yes, sir!” Spank! Spank! Tiffany grinned. He had often spotted the quiet, shy, legendary young muscle giant Casey Rockland in the mess, and heard all about his fearsome physique. He was looking forward to meeting him. He paid no attention to the unwavering, hostile gaze of Corporal Alvarez. Corporal Schumacher strode over to him. He glanced over at Alvarez threateningly, who immediately shifted his gaze and went back to work. “You better watch it. You don’t want to piss off that guy,” he muttered to Tiffany. “Who the fuck cares?” shrugged Tiffany. Thirty feet across the room, Moster continued to apply his stern, masterful spanking to Lang’s squirming, rock-hard musclebutt. Lang’s face was now contorted in an ongoing blissful combination of pain and pleasure, his mouth forming a smiling O….. “…oooooooooo….” Alvarez was watching closely from the corner. Even at more than 40 feet, Tiffany could see the Alvarez’s jock was now poling straight out from his body, strained to the bursting point. “I can’t always cover your ass when you misbehave. These men are my buddies. You’re still new here.” Tiffany smiled cockily. His fresh young musculature glowed with youth and health. He knew that since the last daisy chain that his sunny handsomeness and bad boy intentions had become irresistible to the old horndog Schumacher. It was all going beautifully. “I can take care of myself,” he said. He gestured with his thumb to the blank-faced, completely erect Alvarez, who was by now busy with his next set of deep squats. “Besides, he looks like he doesn’t mind.” The mute Private Meyer was now gleefully bent over before Alvarez, holding his ankles and laughing silently, dancing and twitching that magical butt of his just a few feet in front of the man’s protruding jockstrap. Alvarez had to grin. Then he turned back to the squat bar. “See?” Schumacher grunted. “Yeah, I know you can take care of yourself.” Schumacher moved in close and breathed into Tiffany’s face. “ I want to see you later on.” “You do, hunh?” “Yeah, I do, hunh. After the detail meets Casey Rockland, you come to my quarters. Tonight. That’s an order.” “Finish up, men!” commanded Moster, still spanking the twitching Lang’s bright-red glutes. Spank! “Ouch!” Lang cried. “You’re not my CO.” Tiffany lifted a bar off a squat rack and began doing slow military presses. He smiled indifferently at Schumacher and said no more. Schumacher grunted angrily and moved to the cable rack, where he finished off his chest workout with a final set of intense cable flyes. He now had Corporal Herman Schumacher wrapped around his little finger, and he knew it. He wrapped up his set of presses, now purposefully ignoring him, and grabbed his towel. He wiped himself off and smiled beatifically across at Moster. Moster, never pausing in his discipline of Lang, was amused. He winked at Tiffany. He knew he’d get the Private’s butt to himself – in time – but he generously allowed that Schumacher would get to it first. And that was part of his plan. Casey Rockland was the other part. The workout was finally over. “To the showers, men,” Moster called out. The men collected their workout bags and empty water jugs, and filed eagerly off the floor, clambering over one another like puppies, heading towards their no-holds barred shower room games. Even the normally disgruntled Karim had a special light in his eyes. He was looking forward to Gunst’s piss. As they raced out, Moster looked down at Lang, still stretched pitiably over his knee. “How many was that, Private?” he asked calmly. “59, sir.” “Good. I assume you enjoyed it?” “Yes, sir,” he said with meek truthfulness. “Actually, I loved it.” “Then here’s one more for good luck.” He raised his black hand and applied the last, 60th searing red-hot butt smack. WHACK! “Ow! That was good, sir!” Lang scrambled to his feet, saluted, and tenderly rubbing the scarlet handprints on his delectable bodybuilder butt. “May I join the others now?” “Off with you.” “Thank you, sir!” Lang scooped up his discarded clothes and plastic bottle with one hand, flinging his gear over his broad shoulders, standing still for a moment pouring what was left of the cool water over his shoulder onto his stinging glutes. He grinned at Moster. "Thank you again, sir, for the discipline. My butt needed it." Moster waved him off. Then, kneading his iron-hard, hand-print reddened butt cheeks with the fingers of both hands, the handsome private scampered happily, if somewhat bow-leggedly, away to join his sweaty, horny muscle buddies in the locker room. Chapter 10: The Showers Inside, they had already slipped out of their drenched t-shirts, boots and jockstraps, slipped on striped flipflops, and had headed quickly to the showers, and down to extreme business. Lang was eager to rejoin the men. After all, there was just enough time for one more round of group cocksucking, butt fucking, and stress-reducing water sports before they all had to gather in the lab upstairs to meet the new recruit. Naked in the steamy group shower, he found his way to his muscle buddy Alvarez. He fell to his knees as Alvarez turned, strode forward to meet him, flexed his mammoth biceps, and shoved his meaty erect cock into Lang’s gratefully receiving mouth. Behind Lang, Private Gunst thoughtfully soothed his stinging, reddened glutes with a powerful jet stream coating of clear, clean piss. His mouth full of cock, Lang nodded gratefully up at Gunst, who returned his nod with a “Hey, it’s okay.” Lang arched his butt to receive the coating of piss all the better. He glanced over at Schumacher, who was now violently plowing Tiffany’s wide-open mouth with his own swollen firehose man meat. Schumacher hadn’t said a word. He had walked directly up to Tiffany, who swiftly went to his knees and carefully guided his lips over the shaft of the Corporal’s 11-inch penis. Schumacher was facefucking him as mercilessly as he could manage, but the young Private seemed serenely in control. As usual, he never gagged. Which made Corporal Herman Schumacher plow harder and deeper. Which prompted a satisfied smile on Tiffany’s calm, appreciative lips as he sucked with cool detachment the muscle daddy Schumacher’s violently throat-pounding large cock. After Gunst finished painting Lang’s glutes with thoughtfully applied streams of hot piss, he turned to Waring, fondled the handsome young muscleman’s leathery testicles, got down on his knees and allowed him to glide his own achingly engorged member down his eager throat. “MMMMmmmmm, it’s good!” he moaned, satisfied. “Even big boys like to suck cock,” he winked up at Waring. He smacked his lips. “If it’s big enough.” “Is mine big enough?” asked Waring as he rubbed his scalp in the streaming hot shower. “Yup,” answered Gunst, dipping in for another full-throated suck. “Sure is.” All the other musclemen were similarly at work, soaping up, sucking cock, washing armpits, lathering crotches, laughing, shouting, grunting, flexing their muscles, getting their oversized cocks sucked, or with their faces buried deeply in their buddies’ spectacular glutes. In the center of the shower, Corporal Alvarez and Private Lang were going through “Pose and Approve.” Alvarez was gliding through his finest posing routine, while below him and kneeling on the tile floor Lang licked and sucked his huge, stiff cock with hungry appreciation. “Front double bi’s,” said Alvarez. “Pow.” Meyer was dead center in the large shower room, standing on one hand on the tile floor, holding his powerful body aloft, his legs spread wide, one fist supporting his full bodyweight. He arched his butt high and smiled happily as, through the steam and roar of the water, one after another of his training buddies bent over and applied luscious, deep licks into his succulent butthole. He grinned, pumping his stiff cock with his free hand as they licked, kissed, and smacked his firm buttcheeks. Jin and Washington were now each chewing ferociously on Bogarde’s perfect, brown nipples. He roared with pleasure, and pumped himself into a mighty front lat spread. Straps of pec muscle bloomed powerfully. He turned from side to side, proudly thrusting forward each pec. His buddies chewed, licked and bit. Meanwhile, the handsome Blankenship, who had a preference for big black cock, was fiercely lathering up Washington’s enormous pole. He covered it waves of soapsuds, pumping it up and down as it rose to full girth. He glanced up at Washington, now biting Bogarde’s nipples. “Yeah, you got one big black motherfucker muscle cock!” he shouted. “You like big black cock?” roared Washington, waggling it in Blankenship’s face. “Love it!” he shouted, and washing the soap off, took it all in his mouth. “Watch him suck my cock!” Washington whooped. Obatu, soaping his armpits, laughed. He strode over to the group. “Room for another brother?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, shoved his meat into Blankenship’s face. Blankenship smiled rapturously, and as Obatu continued to soap up, he took his cock into his mouth as well. “Most muscular,” said Obatu. “Pow. Check out dis crab.” Black veins exploded. His fists pumped together. He pushed his hips forward. His cock surged straight ahead. The two black cocks plunged in and out of Blankenship’s mouth, his tongue tracing over their shiny thick veins. The enormous Washington, the biggest man of the group of five, put his arms around Bogarde’s and Obatu’s shoulders, while on the tile beneath them Blankenship moved from cock to swaying cock, from Washington to Bogarde to Jin to Obatu and back to Washington again. Surrounded by the bodybuilders’ cocks, Blankenship sucked each erect penis deeply. He gazed at the network of veins that criss-crossed the hip muscles of each of his buddies. Their huge cocks were like jewels set in the finest of settings: lean, fat-free muscles. When he got to the handsome Asian Private Jin, he marveled once again about how a Chink could have such a huge dick. He sucked it lovingly as the other men stood closely above him, their cocks looming in his face, dripping with water and pre-cum, awaiting their turn. When he finished with Jin, he moved on to Bogarde, whose nipples were being avidly chewed with care above him by Jin and Washington. Bogarde’s cock was, of course, in great need of immediate service. No problem. It was, after all, a world of huge, looming bodybuilder cocks. And Blankenship’s favorite sport – after bodybuilding – was cocksucking Next to him knelt the dimwit Hension, his handsome face now buried deeply into the posing Corporal Alvarez’s glutes. Lang was now on his feet and posing with him, as the dark Arab Corporal Karim, behind him, licked and kissed his mighty ass as well. He caught Hension’s eyes, and, in unison, the two men buried their faces into the posing partners’ glutes. “Hey, careful, there,” said Lang. His butt still stung, and Moster’s handprints were still glowing bright red on his taut asscheeks. “Sorry, man,” said Karim. He gently licked the red hand welts, and could taste Gunst’s piss. He knew the man’s special sweet taste. Gunst had often pissed deeply into his mouth. Chad and LeFevre, soaping up themselves, moved over to Hension, whose beautiful face was deeply buried in Alvarez’s butt. “Hey, McIntyre,” called Chad, “get over here and take over for Hension!” “Don’t bother me,” said Hension. “Sure thing,” answered McIntyre, licking Meyer’s butthole. “Be there in a sec!” “What are you doing, guys?” asked Hension plaintively as Chad and LeFevre lifted him bodily from Alvarez’s glutes, carrying him into a corner of the shower. Alvarez stopped posing for a minute and looked back at them. “Hey, where you taking him?” he asked. Lang looked up. “To the rescue,” said McIntyre, now on his knees and pressing his face into Alvarez’s butt. “Oh, okay.” Alvarez turned back to Lang and continued posing. Karim had never stopped licking Lang’s ass. Chad and LeFevre were now sharing Hension’s pretty tool. “Figure you have it coming,” said LeFevre,” licking away the last remnants of the chili powder. “You guys,” said Hension, and began to wash his hair as the men cleaned his cock with their tongues and lips. Moster leaned in at the shower door. “Good work tonight, men.” He turned and headed toward the locker room door. “Thank you, sir!” the men shouted after him. Moster called back to them as he left the locker room. “No fucking tonight. No time.” “Shit!” Moans of general disappointment. “Sorry. Expect you all upstairs in the lab in 10 minutes.” “Yes, sir!” Once again, in unison. On the workout floor, alone and silent as always, the meek Dr. Irving slipped back into the room and to shut down the lights for the night. From the locker room, he could hear the splashing of the showers and the groans, moans, roars, whoops and shouts of the satisfied men as they each let loose volleys of thick, spurting cum high into the steaming air, arcing and splashing onto each other’s superbly muscled bodies. Thick cascades of semen plopped onto the tile and began flowing slowly past the men’s browned feet towards the shower’s drains. Irving walked over to the garbage pail. He glanced inside. Yep. There they were. He could see them in the half-light. He reached in amidst the wet rags of paper and extracted 18 empty aluminum capsule wrappers. Moster had probably ordered the enhancements from Zaftig particularly for tonight’s workout. He knew that by now each bodybuilder probably had already cum three or four times. By 2150 hours, they would all, to a man, be drained. Except, of course, for Sergeant Moster. He picked up the receiver of the staff phone on the wall, and pushed a button. “Facilities,” he requested. In the distance now, the men were all roaring as one. No doubt they were all spurting in unison by now. Pints and quarts of cum. “Facilities? Yeah. Irving. Right. Better put the plumber on notice. The shower drains in the main workout locker room will be clogged again tonight. They need to be cleared by 1800 hours tomorrow.” He hung up without bothering to listen to the response, turned, and walked out of the room. In the showers, the roaring was dying down to satisfied explosions of breath and more laughs, whoops and hollers. The water was turned off, and locker doors began to open. The room grew quiet as the men dressed, all thoughtful now. All thinking about the new recruit they were about to meet. Casey Rockland. In the showers, thick rivulets of cum dripped from the ceiling, walls, spigots and faucet handles, clogging the drains. It cost Zaftig thousands each month to simply to maintain the system’s burgeoning septic tanks. “It’s just one more thing I didn’t really plan for,” he would sigh to Moster, who would nod, straight-faced. "It's always something," Moster would reply, absently scratching his bulge.
  16. "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey Chapter 6: Casey Is Discovered The day that Casey Rockland first set foot inside a gym, he was a shy, tongue-tied, lonely, oversized 12-year old. He stood, frightened and abashed, at the front desk of Raw Weight. He had walked around the block for an hour before he found the courage to walk through the dark-glass swinging doors. Miles stood behind the desk. “Yes, son?” he asked after a moment. God, this kid has potential, he thought. Gosh, he’s handsome, Casey thought. He gawked at the huge, veiny arms that poured from the short sleeves of Miles’ sports shirt. The hugely rolling biceps made his dick twitch a little. From the moment Casey first laid eyes on Miles Donovan, he thought he was the handsomest, smartest, most masculine, most muscular man he had ever met in his life. Just the sight of Miles’ hardcore physique, casually displayed in loose-fitting slacks and a navy blue sports shirt boasting the Raw Weight logo, made Casey’s well-hidden, oversized teenage member leap to attention. It was love at first sight. Which was not lost on Miles. “C-can I join?” Casey finally stammered out. “You want to train here?” “Yes, sir.” “How old are you, son?” “Twelve,” answered Casey honestly. Miles paused, and then asked kindly, “Where do you live?” “San Jose Boys’ Home.” Aha, thought Miles. His heart went out to the beautiful, over-sized, sad-faced kid. “Of course you can join. Ever trained before?” Casey’s heart leapt. “No, sir!” “How much can you pay?” “I can work for you, sir! I can clean the locker rooms, and the toilets, and take out the garbage, and paint the walls, and – “ If Miles had allowed it, a tear would have come into his eye. Besides, this kid had overwhelming genetic promise. He held up a hand. “No need for all that. Of course you can train here. We’ll discuss money some other time. Let’s get you started. Do you have workout clothes?” “N-no, sir.” “Well, let’s get you fitted out. Come on along with me. Sid, take the desk,” Miles shot to the flirting young muscleboy trainer who was chatting up one of the wide-eyed fitness babes who trolled the workout floor, looking for available young muscle studs. “And try to keep your mind on your work.” Back to Casey. “What’s your name, son?” “Casey Rockland.” “Well, Casey Rockland, I think you might have found your new home. Let’s see what you got.” He moved out from behind the desk and approached Casey. Casey’s heart was still leaping. Miles Donovan was an astonishing man. Casey had never dreamed that such a huge, handsome, masculine, muscular man would ever take notice of him. Like an eager puppy, he fell into step behind Miles, who was leading him out onto the workout floor. There, dozens of men and women of various sizes, states, dress, and degrees of sweat were toiling away at nameless, complicated activities involving weights, machines, benches, bars, cables, racks, mats, balls, rings, and rope. One or two looked up curiously at Miles and the gawky big kid trotting behind him. William Obatu was one of those who looked up. Already in enrolled in Project Herculaneum, the handsome black African muscle monster Obatu was allowed to steal away from the compound to his home front of Raw Weight (with occasional forays to the 3rd floor, where he regularly held personal worship sessions). Obatu takes a selfie.... “Who’s that big kid?” he asked Miles one evening a few weeks later on the 3rd floor. He was working arms, doing slow concentration curls, generally ignoring the rich twinky boy on his knees before him, begging to worship the bulging cannonball biceps. “What kid?” asked Miles innocently, walking by. Obatu continued doing curls and feigned the same indifference that Miles was displaying. “You know. The big kid. Downstairs. He ever come up here to 3?” “Naw. Too young.” “Pleeeeeaazzze…..” begged the handsome kneeling twink on his knees, reaching up in hopes to get a quick fingertip brush of iron muscles. Obatu glanced down, a little impatiently, and reracked the weight. “Whtchu want?” he demanded, and slapped the kid’s face. Some ‘a’ this?” He flexed his biceps. The kid moaned gratefully. “Shut up, worm,” he commanded. Flexxxxxx… “Boom,” he said. “25 inches. Feel ‘em.” Back to Miles. “Saving him for yourself?” “Nope. Saving him for your boss. And your commanding officer. Is Tyrone any good?” Obatu was perplexed. “Who’s Tyrone?” He continued flexing, gazing admiringly at his peaks. Miles pointed down at the kid who now was both reaching in vain to touch the iron biceps while feverishly licking the heavy downward-pointing bulge in Obatu’s regulation tiny posers. Obatu shuddered with pleasure but covered. “These posers are too damn small.” “You must be used to it by now.” “You never get used to it.” “I repeat, is Tyrone any good?” “What do you care, I’m paying $5,000 a month to be up here,” mumbled Tyrone, his mouth now scooping up the thick black muscle cock that tumbled from Obatu’s straining posers. Obatu glanced up. “Trust fund kid,” Miles explained. “Oh.” He looked back down again and flexed his biceps again, a little more respectfully. “Hope you’re enjoying yourself.” Tyrone moaned passionately and sucked vigorously. After a moment, Miles spoke. “Looks like fun. Mind if I join you?” “Oh, if you’re gonna make a party of it, be my guest,” said Obatu, stepping aside. Miles, still dressed, stepped in and unzipped his pants. His big cock poured out. In an instant Tyrone had both bodybuilders’ cocks in his mouth. “Flex for him. He likes it,” said Obatu. Miles flexed his powerful silver daddy 23-inch biceps. A slight tearing sound was heard. “Damn. Another shirt.” He decided to take it out on Tyrone. He plucked the cock from his mouth and slapped his handsome smooth young cheeks vigorously with the now hard-as-steel shaft. “Nice move,” said Obatu. “Let me try that. Hey, asswipe. Over here.” And he smacked Tyrone’s face with his black cock. Soon Tyrone’s head was whipping from side to side, his face buffeted by heavy cock blows. "Take us both, boy. One after the other," ordered Miles. Tyrone went into a frenzy, sucking Obatu's cock, then twisting his head and sucking Miles' cock, back and forth. "Yeah, good boy," said Miles. A few minutes later the musclemen both shot, coating Tyrone's face with heavy layers of thick, creamy cum. Tyrone moaned as thick spurt after thick spurt emerged from each man's pisshole, painting his face, covering him with cum. “That was fun,” said Obatu. “Yeah, let’s do it again some time,” said Miles, walking away. "Clean that up, boy," he ordered as he strode away, squatting slightly as a zipped up, putting his heavy cock away. Obatu resumed his workout, Miles went back to his office. Tyrone lay on a bench, ecstatically spent. Casey took to lifting weights immediately. He had a genius for developing his own start-up training program, and he poured over the muscle magazines he could find. During computer hours he browed the net for muscle information, training routines, and reading all about the muscle stars. He was going to be one, one day, himself. He was determined. Then they’d see. But, gosh, it was hard work. Lifting hurt. It was painful. It was slow. It took time. He was stunned at the beginning at just how much work it was. One afternoon after he'd been lifting only a few weeks, he was sitting dejected in the locker room. Alone. Miles, coming through with towels, saw him. He understood. He put the towels away, and came over and sat with him on the bench awhile. They were silent together a few minutes. "It hurts." Casey finally said. "Yes, it does." "And it's hard." "Yes, it is. Not everyone can do it." "I didn't know it would be this hard." Miles smiled, and put a paternal arm around Casey's shoulders, patting him with a giant paw. "If it were easy, everyone would be big. It is not magic. You can't take a pill and get bigger. People who think so are crazy and wrong. There's no growth serum. I repeat Casey, there's no magic. It doesn't exist. You can't eat a magic cookie, and just get huge. And people who think so are fools. And dreamers." "But I'm a dreamer....." Casey said sadly. "Yes, you are a dreamer, too, but you're not foolish. You know what work is. Hard work. It's growth with effort. Growth without effort doesn't exist. It's an empty dream, a useless fantasy. There are no super heroes, Casey. There's only hard work. Years and years and years of it. But I'll tell you a secret......" he leaned in. Casey looked up. "If you keep doing it? every day, you'll get a little closer to your dream." A light began to shine in Casey's eyes. A tear formed. He looked up at Donovan, now standing over him. "You mean that?" "I do. And Casey? You'll achieve your dream. If you keep working." He paused and stepped back, hitching his thumbs in his belt. "You had a good workout today. You're pushing the limits. But now you need to rest. G'wan back to the home and eat some chicken. Rest tomorrow. No, rest two days. Don't want to see you back here until Saturday." He smiled. "But on Saturday? I'll train with you. And we're gonna fucking murder those weights." Casey's face shone like the sun. He nodded, eagerly, unable to speak a moment. "Sure, Miles! I'll go back and eat chicken and sleep and see you Saturday!!" He got up and began packing his bag. "Work on those abs. You can do crunches tomorrow as long as you don't use weight," he said as he left the locker room. ****** As Casey trained at Raw Weight it was soon apparent that as he gained strength and grew, he needed more than three times as much food. Sister Anne in the kitchen, sympathetic to the big, sweet, dumb, exceptionally handsome kid, supplied him with the extra portions of meat whenever she could get away with it, unaware that the Home’s director, Sister Marietta, had deliberately turned a blind eye. She was even guilty of making sure there were plenty of steaks and chicken breasts on hand. Four years passed. Casey trained like a maniac. He would have been there every day, all day, but Miles forbad it, making him aware of the need for rest days. "Your body won't grow muscles unless you rest. You want to get big?" "Yes, sir! I want to be huge!" "Then you stay away 3 days a week. Eat a lot of protein. Do your ab exercises every night. But no weights. You wanna grow and get big you gotta give your body a rest." Casey, deeply in love, filled with awe, was all the same a little frightened of Miles, and shied away from him for a long time. Miles, understanding the nature of hero worship, gave the handsome kid a wide berth, encouraging him in a business-like way as he made muscle gains. Sensing even more talent, after Casey had been at Raw Weights about 2 years, he introduced him one afternoon to Ramon Ramon, a stern, grizzled, totally ripped, if slightly punch drunk old Puerto Rican extreme cage fighter who always seemed to be at Miles’ gym, as if he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Soon Casey was taking boxing and kickboxing lessons from Ramon Ramon. He began running, jumping rope, lifting the huge truck tires in the corner of the 1st floor, and working out with a punching bag. Ramon was also into wrestling. He bought Casey his first singlet. For hours after Casey's workouts they grappled on Raw Weight’s stained old wrestling mats, bathed in sweat. Ramon was old and grey but had solidly ripped, strong muscles, and Casey loved the feel of the old iron warrior’s abs against his abs as rolled around together on the floor. When Ramon locked his legs around young Casey’s neck and squeezed, Casey always got what the boys in the home called ‘a boner.’ Big and hard, it poled up in the singlet and would have embarrassed him had Ramon not been so cool about it. “Big tool. Get you a bigger singlet next time. You need a scoche more room in the crotch.” Ramon’s legs were clamped onto 16-year old Casey’s 22-inch neck. He howled. He had never been happier. His erection pointed high to the ceiling. “Go ahead and take care of it,” said Ramon. “Be good for ya. Young guys gotta cum.” He let go of Casey’s left arm. Casey shouted and stroked with his freed hand and his cum shot to the ceiling and plopped onto his abs and the wrestling mat. He was never embarrassed around Ramon. “Think you got the biggest cock I ever did see,” said the old wrestler, his iron vice grip holding Casey in a headlock now. The cum continued to shoot. “It’s healthy. Like to see it.” And Casey groaned happily with pain as Ramon squeezed harder. They wrestled in a pool of cum, soon made even greater as Ramon shot all over his steely abs. “Thought I’d join you,” he said. "Be sure to clean that up before you hit the showers." "Yes, sir!" said Casey, happily spent. For two more years Casey followed a strict regimen of quiet hard-core muscle building. He grew and grew. Miles was taking notice. By the time he was 17, it was clear that he had extraordinary bodybuilding gifts. His dedication to lifting was unquestioned, his genetics nothing less than astonishing. One afternoon at the gym during one of his workouts, Miles Donovan glanced out of office window at the big, muscular young teen in the middle of the workout floor. Casey stood alone on the workout floor, his red t-shirt dripping with sweat. He was insanely propelling himself through a 5th set of unduly punishing biceps curls, curling 125 pounds. His face was crimson, his eyes bulged, his teeth were gritted like a madman, thick cords of veins pounded in his neck. His meaty young biceps were being punished into new growth levels. Miles watched the 16-year old boy through the window closely. “Guess it’s time,” he said to himself. He speed-dialed Dr. Anton Zaftig at Valhalla Labs on his mobile. It was time. He hardly knew nor cared what who Zaftig was, or what this “research” was about. All Donovan knew is that he was supposed to be on the lookout for ‘special’ muscle - from the young men who showed unusual potential, to the older, more weather-beaten gym rats who were so far past feeling any pain that all they could do was pack on more and more beef – as long as they were able to keep a balance with their abs, that is. And – as long as they had other talents as well, including square jaws, clean skin, clear eyes, and redoubtable priapic gifts. Zaftig had been quietly paying Donovan for years to spot potential talent. And the size and regularity of Zaftig’s checks were profoundly motivating. “Zaftig?” A mumbled affirmative. “There’s a kid who’s been training here a few years who I think you might want to check out….. No, he’s only 17, but he’s huge. Yes. Really huge. Yes, he’s good, very good, and I think he could be great. I’ve been watching him quite awhile now. Hmmm? Two years. No, three. Regularly. Yeah.” Donovan paced a little and glanced out his window to the gym floor. Casey was putting himself through his 6th set of curls. 15 reps per set. Now at 160 lbs. “Weight? He’s 220. At age 17. Yes, really. 220. Height? Get this: he’s 6’4”. And I don’t think he’s done growing. Yes, superb symmetry. What?" He sighed at Zaftig's question. "Yeah, he's hung, too. Biggest goddam tool I ever saw." Another mumbled question. "What? Okay. I’ll call you back. Ten minutes.” He hung up. He got up from his chair and walked out onto the floor up to the muscleboy. “Awesome. Awesome young muscle. Congratulations,” he said breezily. Casey was in heaven. “Gee thanks, Mr. Donovan!” he said. Casey was always excited when the handsome muscleman praised him. “Let’s see those guns,” said Miles. Casey was only too happy to comply, eagerly flexing his powerful young biceps. Miles stroked them appreciatively, and then casually flexed his own right arm. Casey stared. “Wow,” he breathed. He reached forward to touch it. “Go ahead,” said Miles. “Stroke it.” As Casey approached respectfully and softly ran his fingers over Miles’ thick biceps, the older man glanced down. And was startled. The bulge in Casey’s gym shorts was poled out about a foot from his hips. He didn’t seem to notice, transfixed as he was stroking Miles’ biceps. Miles flexed a few more times for him, and with great self-control, walked away. He called Zaftig back. “Yeah, he gets hard when he touches muscles. Okay. No, I don’t think he does drink. Or smoke. One thing, though. I don’t think he’s the brightest light in the billboard. Does it matter? No? Okay. Yes. I will. I’ll keep you posted.” It was that afternoon that Donovan smilingly informed Casey that his membership to Raw Weight would be free of charge for the foreseeable future. He clapped him breezily on his powerful young shoulders, and was slightly astonished at the hardness of the muscle beneath his palm. For his part, Casey was overjoyed. He didn’t stop to examine why such good fortune might have his way, and what might be expected of him in exchange in the future. He continued to pump enthusiastically, and pack on the muscle. The kid’s not bad, thought Donovan, watching Casey joyfully burn through a grueling set of 20 reps of 400-pound deadlifts. ******* Just a few days later that Casey Rockland finally decided to do something about the gang who had been pummeling him in the dorm shower room for years. Already it was taking more and more of the boys in the gang to hold him down during his beatings, which were growing far less frequent as he got bigger and bigger. One day they stopped completely, but the boy’s hostility still festered in the air. Casey was getting ready for payback. Ramon had showed him how, too. “You got a fearsome punch, kid,” he said one afternoon, flat on his back in the ring where Casey had just knocked him, his eye blackened. “Lead with the left. You got it.” One night after lights out, a few of the boys circled his bed. He looked up at them, bleary-eyed and half asleep. “What?” he asked. “Pull his shorts down!“ “You do it! It’s gay!” “I wanna see!” came a pipsqueak voice. Casey felt a dozen hands pin him down in the half-light, and his shorts were yanked to his knees. His adolescent penis, tumescent in the steamy night, was exposed. He was humiliated. And mad. “Goddamn!” one boy yelled. “It’s huge!” “It’s like a monster!” “Hey, Banana Man!” “See, I told ya!” “He’s a freak!” “Casey the Freak!” the boys chanted, and began to pummel him. Casey curled into a ball on his mattress, gritted his teeth, and took it tearfully. “Next time,” he said himself as the boys rained his body with their weak punches. "Next time, they get it." On what turned out to be his last day in the San Jose Boys’ Home, a gang of 18 biggest boys circled him during morning showers, laughing and pointing at his monster penis for the last time. "Okay," he said. "You turds have laughed at me for the last time. He swung a fist, very deliberately, and caught the ringleader square on the jaw. A tooth flew out and the boy hit the wall of the shower. Methodically Casey began to punch his way through the crowd of now-terrified boys. He was surprised at how easy it was. When the steam cleared, all 18 lay on the ground with an array of blackened eyes, broken noses, fractured jaws, and missing teeth. Casey sported a huge shiner himself. It was worth it. That afternoon 5 ambulances pulled up to the front gates and took the boys away for bandaging in the San Juan ER. Four boys were required to stay overnight for observation. Sister Marietta called him into her office to reprimand him. As she always did with the bad boys, she bent him over her lap and spanked his firm young butt with a ruler. She broke three of them before she finally gave up, perplexed at how hard the young man’s behind had become. Afterwards, rubbing his stinging bottom, Casey ran back to his room and cried. No one loves me, he cried. That night he ran away forever from the San Jose Boy’s Home. He went to the gym, and still sniffling, emptied out his locker. Donovan watched him from the window in his office as Casey, in tears tucked his favorite do-rag in his back jeans pocket and slumped out into the night. Casey figured he had to leave town, although he had no idea where exactly he was going to go. Miles picked up his mobile phone. He figured the time had come. A hour later, Dr. Zaftig found Casey sitting alone and dejectedly in the San Jose bus station. Dr. Zoloft was in transit from the city to the lab facility in the countryside outside town when Donovan had called him hurriedly. He did a fast detour in his minivan, walked swiftly into the bus station, and took a good look at the huge kid bursting out of his t-shirt, sitting alone on a bench in the corner. He knew right away he had another promising specimen for Project Herculaneum. Miles Donovan was never wrong. Zaftig walked unhesitatingly up to Casey and introduced himself. He talked about a bright, golden future for the young bodybuilder. Innocent Casey stared at him uncomprehendingly for a few minutes. Then he smiled through his tears. In the end, he went with the doctor with the funny name. He never questioned anything. He was just grateful. Casey moved into the cadet facility at the base of the mountain leading up to the main compound that night. The next morning, Dr. Irving appeared in Sister Marietta’s office and signed for his release. He flashed some government identification for her, muttered some Federal mumbo jumbo, announced that Valhalla Labs had invested in Casey’s training for four years, and petitioned the court for the right to take Casey into custody. Sister Marietta held up her hand to cut him off, offering no objections. “Take him. He’s too big for us now. We can’t afford to feed him anymore, and the other boys are now terrified of him. Besides, four of his classmates are still in the hospital. It would be best for all if he left.” As she signed the papers offered by Dr. Irving, she added, “But please take good care of him. Casey is a sweet and simple young man. He needs love.” No other paperwork seemed necessary, and though it was far from being anything like a formal adoption, it was enough for the Good Sister. She was relieved to see the boy go – he now always seemed to be hungry, and she had been forced to replace Sister Anne in the kitchen because the boy’s appetite was breaking the food budget. She was glad he could go somewhere where, hopefully, he would get his required 6 square meals a day. Beyond that, she wouldn’t worry. Casey had always been a good boy – well, until the day before. She knew he’d make the right decisions for himself. Or not. Once in the program, Zaftig fast-tracked Casey’s growth. Under Zaftig’s watchful eye and the encouragement of the cadet trainers, he worked harder than anyone he had yet encountered. And the food? He couldn’t believe it – six full meals a day! Two days a week he was required to remain near his quarters and relax. The other five days of the week were taken up with schooling, enhanced nutrition, supervised meditation, running drills, bicycling, swimming, gymnastics practice, small arms training, and nightly injections of Protein 21b, Zaftig’s laboratory serum developed under the most rigorous of testing. Within two months, he was a full cadet in the program, and in less than 2 years he was approaching the threshold of muscular perfection. Most of the time for those years, he was alone with Zaftig, Dr. Irving, his trainers, and some of the Project cadets. He had been restrained from meeting the other 19 men, who trained and socialized on their own in the main building of the facility. He didn’t notice it just at first, but during the next two years he couldn’t help but wonder at the increasing volume of his emissions. He had no inkling that Protein 21b might be causing his sperm production to gradually increase exponentially. Still, during the two years he came to understand that there might be some link between the clear liquid in the daily injections and the increasingly generous volume of semen that spurted out of his cock nightly. He was also amazed that his cock itself appeared to be getting even bigger. He had always been hugely hung, but – this was crazy. At first it required little more than a washrag to clean up after himself, but in time, larger and larger bath towels were required to mop up the flow after cumming. His sheets were badly always badly stained in the morning, and – strangely – every night he found they had been replaced by crisp, new sheets. He never knew who might be doing this for him, and over time his initial embarrassment about his sticky sheets faded away into the generally dark, accumulating volume of unanswered questions. After he passed his high school graduation equivalency exams, Zaftig decided he was ready to take it to the next level. It was time to formally present the boy to the 19. Casey was 18 years old and in the best condition of his young life to date. Still, he was lonely. At night he lay alone in his little room, gazed out the window at the moon and the stars, and beat his humongous meat off fiercely. He dreamed of being the biggest, strongest man in the world. Everyone would love him. And he would protect everyone. It was the sweetest dream in the world, and it was always enough to charge him to a satisfying climax. Then he’d roll over and fall into a deep sleep, hopeful for better days.
  17. EcchiMultiverse

    Marvelous Man - Chapter 27

    (Apologies. Computer is broken, and my chromebook only works. But it doesn't factor in formatting for some reason. Please go to this link for a better format: https://drive.google.com/open?id=1DGN7pA7jDcsd0dxHC-ezmJnp4NlUo1mdY5QMq2t2KU4) Chapter 27: Wrath of the Al-Miraj - Part 2 A screaming pitch of silence rung in the superheroes’ ears with daze visible in their eyes. The Leviathan’s roar had only flung back the hulking bodybuilder, but it caused noticeable damage to the rabbit superhero. As Gene attempted to steady himself, blood lightly trickled out of his human ears. His body vibrated, as the ground shook with increasing strength of something drawing closer. Eyes focused forward again, the bunny demigod saw the Leviathan ready to swoop its sharp jaw at him. Rolling away to his left, the Totochtin prince managed to dodge the monster’s lunging head. The Leviathan skidded to a stop; instantly noticing failure of chomping on its target. Gene had no time to focus on the Leviathan, as the screeches of the armored zombies pulled at his attention. The rabbit superhero ducked beneath a swinging sword and parried away a black axe with his crimson bracer. Marvelous Man, at that same moment, managed to steady himself and looked down at the ensuing conflict. He spotted the animated corpses had begun their assault on Gene again. The musclebound superhero then noticed that the undead army no longer appeared reduced from Gene’s decimation. Instead, it appeared the mob had regained its lost numbers. Marvelous Man scanned the area and noticed something amidst the pool of whisping essence. Body parts of the rotting soldiers were being forced back into place by the blackness; animating them again and forming the darkness into combat equipment. Back at the ground, the barrage against the Totochtin prince was unending. There was no small period of recovery or even time to think. The moment he countered an attack from the zombie army, Gene had to dodge a charging Leviathan that nearly ate or trampled him. This would be followed by the Skeleton Lord galloping towards the bunny demigod and trying to slice him with the glaive. Then, the combo would start over again in a different order; preventing any means of predictability for the rabbit superhero. No matter what Gene did, the outcome for him was more pain and wounds. Overcoming an assault from any of the three types of enemies would leave him with shallow gashes on the exposed areas not covered by his armor. Flinching from any pain or reacting too slow to an enemy strike would cause an attack to succeed. Shapeshifting to rabbit form was no longer a viable option, as skeleton arms would then sprout from the field of blackness and pin Gene down for his enemies to strike at that vulnerable moment. The lethal blows would cause the crimson armor to activate the magical defense mechanism and divide the Totochtin prince into two clones of himself to avoid that damage. And if any of those twins failed to properly defend themselves, the division on that clone would commence once again. The only way the Genes would be forcibly fused back together again depended on one condition: to exist for a full two seconds without dividing again. Marvelous Man soon noticed a pattern of the clones existing two seconds longer for every time the clones were divided into a new set. But upon merging is when the bunny demigod would have to pay the price for avoiding the receival of fatal wounds. Hideous bruises sprouted all over his body, and blood dripped from his mouth and nose. Marvelous Man grabbed his magical patch, “Gene, you need to get to out of there! Get to higher ground or something! You’re not gonna win if you keep fighting like this!” The Totochtin prince seemed to acknowledge the muscle demigod’s advice, as he turned and ran away from his enemies. The Leviathan chased after the rabbit superhero with the rest of Alden’s undead army following behind. As Gene approached a tall business building, he performed a front flip. The bunny demigod landed feet first on the building wall; the crimson claws of his feet armor slightly dug into the concrete layer. Gravity obeyed the Totochtin prince, as Gene stood up. He did not fall nor tilt towards the ground; standing straight and rigid like the wall had become the floor and vice versa. The rabbit superhero took off and ran with graceful agility. While reaching a third of the way up the building, the Leviathan scaled the wall as well. The monster’s claws dug into the structure and windows; rupturing the side with every propelling movement. Gene shapeshifted into his armored rabbit form, as the Leviathan drew closer with its gaping maw. The bunny demigod pushed off with his super strength; zipping upside the business building in a crimson blur. He scampered farther up with the spacial gap between himself and the Leviathan growing wider. Reaching the top of the building with seconds to spare, the rabbit superhero hopped over to the center of the roof. The rooftop’s area and the business building itself had the spatial width of a small baseball field; perfect to house the fight between Gene and the Leviathan without either running out of room and falling over. The Totochtin prince reverted back into his human form, while the rumbling vibrations of the pursuing Leviathan grew stronger. He then swiveled about; facing himself towards where the enemy would be arriving at. His fists began to glow blue; charged with mana. Clasping his hands together in front of his chest, the bunny demigod started folding them against one another. He gestured his hands into a hand sign before immediately manipulating his fingered digits into another sign. On his final hand sign, his pinkies and ring fingers intertwined one another, and his thumb, index, and middle fingers pressed against each other. A runic symbol then appeared above his fingerless gloves, as his crimson armor glowed with the sound of a person hushing briefly passed over the armor. A second later, the symbol and the glowing vanished. Gene’s hands fell to his sides with open palms before taking a deep breath and exhaling it. The monster showed no sign of slowing down, as it drew closer to the top. Marvelous Man watched the Leviathan shoot into the air; high above the building’s roof. It landed with a thunderous stomp and its tail drooping over the edge. The ground beneath the white beast fractured in multiple directions, yet it still held itself together in spite of the massive impact and weight. The Leviathan charged with its toothy maw gaping wide open and drooling black essence. Gene leaned forward. He raised one arm with a clenched fist and tucked in the other. In Marvelous Man’s perspective, the rabbit superhero looked as if he were paused in a mid-punch that was ready to release another. The monster stampeded closer, but Gene did not move. Upon contact, The Totochtin prince divided. Marvelous Man’s eyes bulged. Instead of two clones, it was now three! Two of the Genes appeared on either side of the rampaging Leviathan, while the third materialized above the beast. The two clones on the ground rotated their bodies to face the white monstrosity, while striking with their fists. The two Genes punched rapidly with both fists; their arms becoming blurred amidst their barrage. “FURO-RO-RO-RO-RO-RO-RO-RO-RO-RO-RO-RO-RO-RO!!!” they battle cried in unison. At the same time, the third clone in the air twirled his body. As he repositioned himself at a horizontal angle, the clone linked his hands together with his crimson-spiked elbows pointing outwards. His spinning upper body landed on top of the Leviathan’s neck and plunged one of the spikes on his elbows into the monster. With the giant bone monster in motion, it allowed the third clone to use the beast’s kinetic force in accelerating his own rotation speed. He moved like a buzzsaw carving down the Leviathan’s spine; using the spikes on his elbow and forehead. The Leviathan could not react in time to the Genes’ surprise attack and could only continue forward; helpless to the Totochtin onslaught. Every punch and slice from the clones created massive craters that birthed incalculable cracks all over the monstrous body. By the time the white beast completely passed by the Totochtin clones, its entire being was completely covered in fractures. It looked as if it were cracked porcelain ready to fall apart at the slightest touch. As the Gene clone in the air fell towards the ground after running out of Leviathan to spin on, the other Totochtin clones reached out to him. One clasped onto an arm, while the other grabbed the armored ankle. The three clones blurred; fusing back into one Gene Lightfoot. Landing feet first, the bunny demigod shifted into his rabbit form. The armored bunny haunched down before rocketing off with the use of his super strength. As the Leviathan came to a slow upon nearly reaching the other end of the roof, the crimson missile closed in from behind it. The white rabbit pierced into the Leviathan without difficulty and caused the gargantuan beast to freeze in its tracks at the sudden intrusion. Immediately after entering, the bunny demigod exited out of the monster’s mouth. Gene then changed back to his human form, as he landed close to the edge of the rooftop. The hole the Totochtin prince had made in the Leviathan’s back-end widened; pieces of that area breaking off. The clattering sound of fallen bone chips began to collect in larger volumes, as the shattering had completely collapsed the back-end and continued up to the head. Seconds later, the Leviathan was no more. Only a massive pile of bone fragments remained. Gene lurched forward and grabbed his stomach. His breathing had become slow and heavy. Blood streamed down out of his nostrils again. Marvelous Man gripped his D.A.B. patch, “Hey, are you okay?!” “...I will be requiring the healing after this fight,” telepathically replied Gene, “Please be ready to do the supercharge on me.” The muscle demigod nodded, “U-understood!” “Have you located the Sugar Skull? I have not seen him before this fight began,” questioned Gene. Marvelous Man answered, “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him either. B-but I know he’ll be alright!” “I will have to trust your word on that. What is the Skeleton Lord doing?” said Gene. The musclebound superhero shifted his gaze. He then spotted the centaur climbing up the building wall. Alden’s horse legs dangled in the air, while the spider leg limbs on the Skeleton Lord’s back did all the scaling and hoisting the rest of the body. Alden was nearing the rooftop; giving Marvelous Man only seconds to talk. The hulking bodybuilder stated, “He’s scaling the wall with his spider legs and almost at the roof. Gene, just what is that armor doing to you when you divide?” “When I avoid the death and return my wrath by the multiples, my body will then be burdened by the multiples. It is a flaw Gemini did not have time to completely correct,” stated the Totochtin prince. A white spider leg made of bone clung onto the cracked edge of the rooftop. One by one, more appeared and joined the limb without disrupting the fractured structure. The spider legs slowly hoisted the Skeleton Lord up and drifted him over onto the rooftop. The white centaur was placed down with a light clomp. Slowly trotting forward, Alden’s gaze fixed onto the back-turned Gene before drifting over to the pile of what was once the Leviathan. He then stopped upon reaching the center of the rooftop. The Skeleton Lord huffed, “Why...why can’t you just die?!” The Totochtin prince shuffled about at a tired pace; turning to face his enemy. Upon completing his rotation, Gene let out a small sigh. He then slowly wiped the blood coming out of his nose. “I return the statement back to you,” he retorted. Alden reminded, “Feh. Cursed wretch. You have only pricked me twice in the chest, Totochtin. A simple patchwork for Digz. Whereas, you look no different than the undead cur I send after you.” “It is only a flesh wound. I can still continue this fight. And I shall prick you many times more,” said Gene. The centaur extended his right arm to the right, “You can try, but I am well aware of the limits of your witchery armor, Totochtin. You cannot outlast a god when every division pushes you ever closer into death’s embrace.” The polearm weapon he held in his extended right arm evaporated into black miasma; dissipating into the essence-contaminated air. The Skeleton Lord opened his hand and stretched out the palm, while the pile of bone chips began to stir. The white mass then flowed, like a stream of leaves dancing in the wind, over to the exposed palm. The pieces of bone swirled above the palm; growing bigger and rotating faster with every bit collected into the swirl. After all the fragments of the Leviathan had been collected, the whirling mass now matched the centaur’s large height. It was flat and spun faster than a table buzzsaw at max speed; becoming a disk of destruction. “I. HAVE. WON!!!” he proclaimed. Alden swung his extended right arm to his left side with abrupt force. The whirling bone disk responded by launching itself at the Totochtin prince. Gene made no effort to move, as the destructive disk spun closer. Right at fatal contact, the bunny demigod divided out of the way with two clones appearing at the left and one clone on the right side of the deadly projectile. The disk continued forward; flying off of the roof’s edge and moving upwards. Clenching his fist, the Skeleton Lord brought his commanding arm back to his right side and tucking against it. The disk of boney mass ceased its height climbing and flipped itself onto a horizontal angle. The spinning mass then released a volley of bone chips at the Gene trio clones; its firing and sound effect similar to a helicopter minigun. The bullet-like projectiles shot in streams of two in an effort to gun down both sides where the Genes stood. As the clones divided into triplicates, the bone shards pierced into the ground. Clouds of grey dust wafted into the air from the flooring damage; creating a smokescreen over the shot Genes. The Totochtin clones’ division began to circle around the Skeleton Lord, which was then followed by the hailstorm of bone particles and smokescreen. With every passing second the disk fired, it grew shorter from using its mass as bullets. The discharge soon came to an end, as the disk-like bone mass used the last of itself at the ever-multiplying bunny demigod. The entire rooftop looked like it had been replaced with a meteorologist’s digital representation of a hurricane, and the Skeleton Lord stood in its eye. Silence stood next to Alden, while the smokey field around him echoed with tiny debris splinking everywhere. Four Gene clones dashed from out of the smoke; two appearing in front of the centaur with the other two from behind it. The clones spun, as they lifted their legs and aimed the spike on the back of their achilles tendon at the foe. With no time for Alden to react, the Genes successfully punctured their spikes into the sides of the centaur’s horse body. Cracks rippled throughout the white horse section, while the smoke from behind the Skeleton Lord stirred again. Leaping out in a frontward flip, another Gene emerged from the debris cloud. He kept his right leg stuck straight out while hugging the left during the flip. As the revolution of his rotation came to completion with his head facing up, the clone released his left leg. The unbound leg swung downwards; releasing the pent up kinetic energy at the top of the Skeleton Lord’s horse rear-end. Marvelous Man recognized the acrobatic move as the Webster Axe Kick. The axe kick slammed its armored heel down on top of the equine rear end; piercing the crimson achilles spike through the hide. Fractures shot through and connected with the previous cracks in less than a second. The horse part of the centaur immediately shattered; revealing underneath Alden’s bone-encased legs. With nothing holding up the Skeleton Lord, the ancient king fell. The white spider legs attached to his back extended downwards, as his knees touched the ground. Boring into the ground, the arachnid limbs immediately lifted Alden back onto his feet. The two Gene clones in front of the Skeleton Lord began to rapidly punch the ancient king. At the same time, the three Genes from behind Alden rushed in. The lightning-fast fists aimed themselves at the torso, as the three Genes began aiming their crimson-knuckled barrage at the Skeleton Lord’s back. The bone armor that protected the ancient king could barely withstand the intense close-combat onslaught. Yet it remained thick enough for its entirety to not crumble nor allow Alden’s peach skin to be instantly unearthed. Chunks of white bone flew into the air, as the sound of breaking concrete resounded from the assaulted armor. The spider legs made of bone raised itself out of the ground and began whipping about. Thrashing in a circular motion, all of the arachnid limbs successfully lashed at the Gene clones. The Totochtin copies could not divide at the nonlethal attack and were flung back into smoke debris. The attack may have stopped the clones from further bombardment, but the damage the rabbit superheroes incurred at chipping away the bone armor left Alden’s frail, Mana Stone-fused torso to become exposed. As its powerful sweep came to a stop, it caused a burst of wind to blossom in the vicinity. The gust pushed away the dusty smoke clinging to the rooftop; unveiling a mob of bunny demigods armored in crimson. Every available space on the rooftop had been taken up by a Gene clone and resulted in surrounding the Skeleton Lord. Their rage, sadness, and anger multiplied in one spot at such an intensity that Marvelous Man did not just feel it; he could taste it. His eyes watered uncontrollably with tears, as his tongue tasted an extreme saltiness mixed with a sour stronger than any lemon he’s ever tasted. The muscle demigod’s jaw seized into a tight clench; foam beginning to form at the mouth. Marvelous Man’s stomach felt as if it had twisted into a new shape that squeezed but prevented any bile from coming out. Gravity seemed to magnify on the muscle demigod’s massive body, while his spirit felt like it was about to implode. It took every ounce of his willpower to recognize these emotions as not his own and to focus on his thoughts on the things he loved. If the musclebound superhero did not, he would have screamed cries of insanity at the intense emotions pressured into himself. And while he tried to think of his parents, friends, and his love for being a superhero, there was one person that easily crept into his thoughts that seemed to sooth the deafening madness within himself. Gemini; the Soulem that made his life enjoyable and would have even if Marvelous Man wasn’t a superhero. During Marvelous Man’s attempt to stabilize, the Genes made their move. A colony of crimson-armored rabbits leapt at the Skeleton Lord with blinding speed. Their horns pierced Alden’s unguarded flesh; the chest and back. White rabbits hung from where they stabbed, while the Skeleton Lord did nothing. It seemed as if the ancient king had become paralyzed by the intense pressure of emotions the Genes radiated. The white spider legs swung themselves over Alden; swatting away the armored rabbits embedded in him. As the bunnies were swept away, humanized Gene clones from multiple directions charged in. The Totochtin clones seemed to be enacting Blitzkrieg tactics; unleashing a quick bombardment of punches and kicks before fleeing back into the crowd. The spider legs were the first to go, as they exploded into splinters of bone. The armor came next; chiseled away to reveal the frail man inside. Despite the immense gravity of emotions weighing down the Skeleton Lord, Digz’s response to the oncoming attacks remained unaffected. The bone armor that was chipped away had rapidly regenerated and began to sprout white tentacles in an attempt to keep the Gene clones at bay. The humanoid Genes continued to pour in, and those that were not whipped away quickly dismantled the Skeleton Lord’s tendrils and armor. The moment Alden’s peach skin was shown, an armored white rabbit would rocket towards the skin and pierce it with the crimson horn. The bunny demigod would then be swept away by the Skeleton Lord’s tentacle, and the armor would grow over the gaping wound just before blood could seep out. Marvelous Man’s eyes began to focus on the fight scene, as his mind and emotions finally stabilized. He witnessed the tables had finally turned with Gene winning! The Skeleton Lord will finally die, and the Totochtin prince will have avenged his fallen ancestors...But one thing seemed to constantly bubble up to the surface of the musclebound superhero’s mind. Before the bunny demigod had engaged in battle with the ancient king, Marvelous Man offered help to Alden...and Alden had tried to accept that help until Digz interrupted followed by Gene. If the muscle demigod allowed Gene to kill Alden, that would be the end of it. An easy end to the difficult journey of defeating the Skeleton Lord. But in his gut, he knew...Marvelous Man knew that it would haunt him the rest of his life. What if? He had the power to help someone; make a literal change in that person’s life. And to not give that help after it had been asked for...what was the point of everything he had done so far? The hulking bodybuilder grasped his D.A.B. patch, “Gene...you need to stop.” There was no telepathic response from the Totochtin prince, who was now consumed in the heat of combat. Marvelous Man flew towards the rooftop conflict, while he pleaded with the rabbit superhero. “Gene, that’s enough,” he said. No answer. A patch of flesh was exposed on the Skeleton Lord’s shoulder and was immediately stabbed by an armored rabbit’s horn. The muscle demigod was halfway there. Marvelous Man called out, “Gene! Stop!” Nothing. A white tendril from the armor whipped down at the crimson-horned bunny; swiping it away. Immediately after, a Gene clone leapt forward and punched the Skeleton Lord’s crow skull helmet. The bone headgear shattered; exposing Alden’s catatonic face that was drowned in the Gene clones’ immense emotions. The Skeleton Lord was flung onto the ground by the punch, as Marvelous Man was now above the two. The muscle demigod dropped down and landed crouched on his knee between Gene and Alden with his hulking back facing the fallen Skeleton Lord. “ENOUGH!!!” shouted Marvelous Man in both voice and thought. The Gene clone in front of the musclebound superhero froze in his tracks, as his face showed only shock. The emotions weighing down on Marvelous Man and Alden had ceased. The ancient king coughed up blood, as he gasped for air like he had been held underwater. The clone spoke up, “Marvelous Man, what do you think you are doing?!” “I-I’m stopping you,” replied the muscle demigod, “King Alden is down. You’ve won. So let me help him now.” Gene gritted his teeth, “Won? I have not won! I will be the victorious when he is dead! That is what I have decreed for his fate, and it is what he deserves! What gives you the right to defy me?!” Tears began to well up Marvelous Man’s eyes. He knew his friend was in pain, and he could see it in the Totochtin prince’s eyes as well as feel it. The Gene clone mob that encircled the three began shouting; questioning Marvelous Man and commanding him to move. Marvelous Man did not want to stop his friend, but… “Because I’m a hero! I have to help those that accept my help, Gene. What else am I if I don’t?! Especially all those things I said to King Alden. Please...I don’t want to fight you over this…” he said. The Gene in front of the hulking bodybuilder trembled, as his eyes began to water. Marvelous Man reasoned, “I know you don’t have a lot of time left before you do that merging thing. Let me supercharge you, and let me help them.” Streams of tears flowed from Gene’s cheek. “Get out of the way, Marvelous Man. Let me do this,” said Gene. Marvelous Man replied, “I...I can’t...I’m sorry.” “I AM WARNING YOU! I WILL NOT BACK DOWN! MOVE!!!” shouted Gene. Marvelous Man choked an answer back, “...No…” “Break me if you have to,” he said, “But I can’t stand by and ignore someone that tried to take my help. They’re all in pain, Gene. I have to try and help them...I know I can...” As his tears flowed down his cheeks, the musclebound superhero could feel the heartache from the Gene clones. “Damn you, Marvelous Man. I can never raise my fist against you,” he sobbed. “But know this,” continued Gene, “He will betray you, when he gets the chance.” Marvelous Man tried to speak, but there was a knot forming in his throat, and it had become hard to speak. The hulking bodybuilder resorted to nodding his head at Gene, as he pondered his next thoughts. He would have a difficult time trying to sing in order to activate his supercharge, so he would have to make do with playing an instrument. Reaching into his black jacket’s pocket, he pulled out his golden harmonica, Duskbell. Puffing into the musical device, he played. The song consisting of long notes that were akin to the blues genre playstyle. As he played the sorrowful song, the light within himself fed on the music. The light extended itself through the rooftop floor and traveled forth in all directions. It enveloped the fallen Skeleton Lord and every Gene clone, as it reached the edges of the roof in seconds. The Gene clone in front of Marvelous Man closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Opening his eyes again upon exhale, he then turned to his other clones and extended his hand. The crowd of clones began holding each other’s hands, as they all walked forward towards the center of the rooftop. Approaching the Gene standing in front of Marvelous Man, they stopped. The Totochtin clone that stood the closest to that Gene extended their hand and took grasp of his. A flash of air bursted from that Gene, as the clones were pulled by an unseen force into that Gene. The clones merged together into that Gene; layering into him without any sign of collision. Seconds later, there was only one Gene Lightfoot standing in front of Marvelous Man. As the bunny demigod turned around, a sputtering cough emanated from behind the hulking bodybuilder. Alden spoke, “With such power like this...are you truly a star child?” Marvelous Man turned to the ancient king. “Huh?” he said. The Skeleton Lord coughed, “I cannot remember how long it has been since I’ve had so many thoughts. A-HACK! To wonder about so many things and explore it all at once. It is exhilarating...and terrifying.” “...And now I wonder...has it all been worth it? The killing and torture just because I was miserable? Shifting the blame onto others? In the end, I don’t feel any better about what happened to my family. I had only delayed the one truth I did not wish to gaze at,” he continued. Alden wept, “It was time to let go. Holding onto what was left of ourselves poisoned everything we ever thought and ever did...at least it was for me. If I had just let go of these burdens and stopped forcing myself to live, I could have been with my family again. And all this time, Digz, it had never occured to me that you were unwell. It is only now that I look back and see how obvious it was...I never thought I would say this, but...” He paused. “...You were wrong,” gasped the ancient king. Alden closed his eyes, as his glowing body relaxed. Marvelous Man’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Huddling over Alden, the muscle demigod gave the ancient king a light shake. Marvelous Man called out, “King Alden?” No response. Placing his index and middle finger on Alden’s neck, the muscle demigod called out the light within him to diagnose the ancient king. Marvelous Man’s heart dropped. “Wha-? N-no...Oh, no no no no no…” he uttered. There was no pulse, and no detected signs of life. Alden was dead. Even though the ancient king was fully healed, all Marvelous Man did was create a pretty corpse. His lips whimpered, “Damnit, no! NO! Don’t die on me! You weren’t supposed to die! That’s not how the supercharge works! I-I was supposed to save you, and-and we learn a lesson or something!...Not like this. It shouldn’t have ended like this…” He failed to save the one person who needed his help the most. It was all his fault. He should have stopped the fight earlier. Before it ever started. He should have tried harder to help...WHY DID YOU LET THEM FIGHT?! YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN ACTION!!! YOU CHOSE WRONG!!! A child-like scream pierced Marvelous Man’s ears. Jumping back, he could hear the scream emanating from Alden’s dead body. Black essence leaked from the corpse as a sludge-like substance that bubbled. Marvelous Man had forgotten about Digz. The corrupted imp was now alone and did not have much longer to live now that the host body has died. A strong gale of wind howled above the superheroes, as the essence-covered sky began to warp. The dark miasma swirled, as it transformed into the cone of a tornado. The moment the teammates looked up, the tornado had zoomed downward and touched down onto the deceased king. The two held their arms up as bits of the rooftop debris was blasted into their faces. The Totochtin prince screamed over the shrieking tempest. “What is happening?!” said Gene. Marvelous Man squinted at the tornado for a moment before his eyes expanded in horror. He spotted through the tornado a giant skeleton arm with a hand big enough to grab a human being. It flexed ready to pounce at them. The musclebound superhero turned to Gene, “RUN!!!” Shoving with all of his super strength, Marvelous Man pushed the rabbit superhero off of the roof. Gene sailed through the air with arms and legs flapping like a ragdoll. He gambled on the supercharge to quickly heal any wound and combine with the bunny demigod’s durability to increase Gene’s survival rate against the fall. Time seemed to slow down for a brief moment. The intake of breath into Marvelous Man’s lungs seemed to go on forever, while he watched Gene’s face overwritten with a shocked expression. The hulking bodybuilder then felt the giant skeleton fingers wrap over his bulging arms and sinking into his carved abdomen. Time returned to its normal rate, as his body was yanked backward. His vision blurred at the scenery seeming to stretch forward. Before his sights had become blanketed with darkness, he saw Gene turn into a speck. “I hope this isn’t the end,” he thought.
  18. * 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.
  19. dw2098lj

    The Car Salesman - Chapter 2

    Chapter 2 With every step and every breath in of the cold winter air I felt as if a spell was lifting. My attraction to Karl and fixation on his huge muscles and enormous cock was being replaced with sheer disbelief at what had just happened. Slowly my thoughts were becoming my own again as my mind raced through the events of the last couple of hours. How had I as a straight man, who’d never had any interest in other men, let myself be used by that gym-rat, the epitome of everything I despised? As I turned the key in the front door of my house and heard the lock click open I came to a sudden realisation. I had been drugged. It was the only explanation I could think of to explain the bizarre events of today. Somehow Karl had fed me some illegal substance which had an abnormal and extreme effect on me. But how had he done it? I’d not had anything to eat or drink whilst I was there and to be honest the effects had been almost immediate, pretty much from the start of our encounter. It was then, sat in the dark on the sofa in my living room, that I remembered the strange but seductive scent coming off Karl that I’d noticed as soon as I met him. Still dazed from the afternoon, I could almost hear the cogs of my brains turning over, trying to connect the dots. Finally, something clicked and I remembered the strange looking bottle, “Alpha Scent”, which I’d glimpsed in Karl’s desk. Yes, that was it! Clearly this scent had some pheromones or something in it that caused extreme desire in whoever smelt it. Ridiculous as it sounded, it was the only possible explanation I could come up with. The longer I sat there on the sofa, the more my confusion and embarrassment were replaced with anger. Luckily for me, my wife wasn’t due home from work for 2 hours – I needed a plan. *** Two days later I was sat outside Karl’s office, waiting to pick up my new car. My heart was racing at the plan I’d concocted but I was confident that it would work, having spent several hours over the last few days perfecting it. A few minutes after I arrived, Karl’s office door opened and an attractive woman in her early 40s left. I could tell from her harassed look and the fact that her blouse wasn’t buttoned up correctly that she had just been subjected to the “Karl” treatment. The huge man himself appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, covered in a sheen of sweat from his most recent workout. “Give me two minutes Joe,” he called, grabbing a towel from behind the door and heading down the corridor to where I guessed the showers were. I nodded in reply, glad that Karl clearly had a strict routine between clients, something that my plan relied on. As soon as the shower room door had clicked shut I leapt up, pleased that there were no other staff members around (for obvious reasons Karl’s office was away from everyone else). I opened the door to Karl’s office before sneaking in and shutting the door quietly behind me. I hurried over to his desk, not knowing how literal Karl’s “two minutes” would be, and opened the top draw. I picked up the strange bottle, turning it over to read the label on the back: “Instructions: Use 2 sprays for instant results lasting 24 hours. Re-apply after showering”. There was no mention of what the “instant results” were but I could have a good guess. Conscious of the time, I pulled two bottles out of my pocket, one an empty aftershave bottle, the other filled with water that I’d dyed purple to match the fluid in the “Alpha Scent” bottle. I quickly poured the contents of the “Alpha Scent” into my empty aftershave bottle which I put safely in my pocket. I then substituted it with the dyed water from my other bottle before screwing the top back on and replacing the strange bottle in Karl’s top drawer. The colour wasn’t an exact match so I’d have to hope Karl wouldn’t pay too much attention to it. It was then I noticed something. In my rush to get into his office and steal his treasured secret, I hadn’t noticed that Karl’s masculine scent still filled the room, even though he was no longer there. I found myself inhaling deeply, yet again allowing his aroma to fill my head. Images of his full, thick chest and bulging veiny biceps immediately flashed across my mind. I started to imagine the feeling of his big manly cock deep in my tight ass, to feel him plough me with all his strength and power. All thoughts of my carefully worked out plan left my head as I noticed that my cock was rock hard and throbbing. I unbuttoned my jeans, letting them fall to the floor before pushing down my tight boxer briefs, letting out my aching cock. I wrapped my hand around it, jerking slowly as I thought about running my hands over his swollen chest and ripped abs. I was excited to think that Karl would be back at any second and I wanted to be ready to please him. I found myself getting into position on his desk as I had the other day, face down, ass ready for him to slide his cock in as soon as he came through the door. Suddenly the blinds rattled and a gust of wind blew in through the open window. It hit me straight in the face, clearing my head and allowing just a second of rational thought. That was all I needed – I immediately jumped off Karl’s desk, pulled up my boxers and jeans and ran out the door, all without taking another breath. My heart was racing as I settled myself in the chair outside Karl’s office just as the door to the shower room opened down the corridor. Karl looked pristine yet again, freshly showered and in clean smart clothes, a confident smile on his face. Thankfully the feelings of lust had past as quickly as they’d started now that I was out of the confined environment of Karl’s office and I was able to focus once again. “Right Joe, let me just get your keys and we’ll have you sorted in no time,” Karl said as he passed me, entering the office I’d only seconds ago vacated myself. I was sure I’d left everything as it should be but still my heart was racing. I suspected that Karl would be re-applying the “Alpha Scent” after his shower but would he notice straight away the swap I’d made? My entire plan hinged on this moment. A minute later Karl came out, his confident smirk plastered to his face as usual, the keys to my new car in one hand, the final agreement in the other. “Let’s go out to your car then Joe,” Karl said, with no acknowledgement of the events of the other day but more importantly, no evidence that he’d noticed the swap at all. “Sure thing Karl,” I said, trying to sound more relaxed than I felt. As I followed behind, I tentatively inhaled, but there was nothing, no trace of the alluring odour and my head remained clear. When we’d reached the car, Karl showed me around the outside again before we got in. Once inside, I was aware yet again how much space Karl occupied but it didn’t seem to affect me as it had done the other day. “Well Joe, here’s the key… I just need one more signature from you,” Karl said, handing me the final agreement. As I signed, I noticed that Karl had his arm up on the window again and was casually flexing his biceps as he looked across at me. I smiled as I handed the agreement back to him. “Right Karl, I’ll be going then if that’s everything,” I said confidently. “Oh yeah, erm, sure Joe,” clearly surprised by my lack of interest in his flexing muscles, “unless you want to go for round two,” he added, attempting a deep seductive voice which just sounded hollow to me without the effects of the “Alpha Scent”. He rested one of his giant hands on the equally giant bulge in his trousers but even this didn’t affect me. “No thank Karl,” I said, still trying to stay at ease, “I’ll be going now. Thanks for your help.” “Erm…ah…well, no problem, Joe,” Karl said as he prised himself out of the car, clearly confused at my resistance. “See you around Karl,” I said through the open window as I started to pull away. As I left the forecourt I smiled as I caught sight of the giant muscle man in my rear-view mirror, a look of intense confusion on his face. Little did he know it was only just beginning. *** Twenty minutes later I was standing in my bedroom at home, the bottle of aftershave, now containing the “Alpha Scent” in my hand. I hesitated, torn between sensibility and the desire to try it on myself before my wife got home and see what effect it had on her. We’d been trying to think of ways to liven up our sex life and I hoped this would be the answer, causing her to experience the same indescribable lust for me that I’d experienced for Karl. But then again, I didn’t really know what the true effects of this spray were and I suspected it definitely wasn’t legal. In the end my desire and curiosity won out and before I knew what I was doing I’d squirted two sprays on my neck. The pure “Alpha Scent” smelt great, kind of woody but other than that there was no noticeable change in me. I started to feel a bit stupid as I stood there and suspected that I had just gone to extreme lengths to steel what was essentially just a bottle of aftershave. At that moment though a strange warm feeling started spreading from my neck, where I had sprayed the “Alpha Scent”, down into my chest. It felt as though my shoulders and chest were pulsing with energy, the warm feeling spreading out into my arms too. Suddenly, I noticed that my normally loose-fitting blue t-shirt felt a bit tight around my chest and I looked down to see that my chest was actually starting to swell. “Fuck, I’m growing,” I said out loud, unable to help myself. I watched and felt as my biceps started to expand too, pulsing as they got bigger, huge veins popping up under the skin. My arms felt like they were surging with power and soon they were straining the sleeves of my small top. Without even thinking, almost on instinct, I brought both arms up into a double biceps, flexing hard the muscles which until now had been tiny and pathetic. I heard the loud RIP as both sleeves split down the seam, bursting open to allow my biceps and triceps to continue growing. “This feels fucking amazing,” I called out, my voice noticeably deeper and more masculine, as I continued to flex and pump my biceps. The warm feeling had now reached my groin and quads and the most amazing sensation hit me, like I was having a continuous orgasm. Waves of pleasure flooded through my veins as I looked down to see that the bulge in my jeans was swelling slowly, pushing out as I felt my cock grow. My expanding quads were quickly filling out my jeans too and I could hear the material creaking as it struggled to contain them. My attention was then pulled back to my still swelling chest, which was now way too big for the size ‘S’ T shirt. My back too was expanding, pulling the shirt even tighter and stopping me from being able to breathe properly. “GGGRRRRRRRRRR,” I roared as I reached up to the neck of the t shirt, pulling it straight down and hearing the fabric tear as I ripped it off in one go. “FUCK, I’m a beast,” I screamed, looking down at my exposed torso, as I threw the shredded top on the floor. Beneath my swollen pecs I could see the little bit of body fat I had disappearing, exposing tight ripped 8-pack abs which pushed up like cobble stones. I ran one of my hands down them, enjoying the feeling of ripped muscle under my fingers. Beneath my tiny, tight waist, my quads were still growing, feeling so tight in my jeans that I knew that I needed to get them off soon. No sooner had I thought this I heard another rip and realised it was too late. My huge quads had torn the fabric on either side of my jeans and I could see the exposed muscle underneath. I flexed each of my humungous quads in turn, extending the tear on either side with colossal grunts. I then reached down, grabbing the waist band with my two hands and pulling down to complete the job, ripping my jeans off and throwing them on the floor. “I’m so STRONG,” I roared, unable to hold back as I started flexing, the growth now slowing and the warm feeling starting to subside. I looked at myself in the mirror on the wall – I now had the body of a serious weight-lifter, not quite as big as Karl, but still pretty huge. My face too looked more masculine, chiselled, with a sharp jaw-line with a light dusting of stubble. My torso had a covering of dark, manly hair that had sprung up in the last two minutes on my previously hairless body. The bulge in my boxers was verging on obscene as my rock hard cock tented the fabric. I quickly pulled off my boxers, feeling as my much bigger cock slapped up against my abs. “FUCK,” I moaned, as I looked down at my throbbing cock which was at least 8” long, about 2” longer and much thicker than before my growth spurt. A steady stream of pre was leaking out as I continued to flex in front of the mirror, appreciating my new muscle body. I ran my hands over my pumped chest, amazed at the weight of my pecs and noticing the deep defined valley that ran between them. I flexed each bicep in turn, trying to wrap the other hand round each mound of marble-like muscle to no avail. The huge veins which had popped up during my growth were still there and snaked like a road map down my bulging biceps and forearms. Still flexing, I wrapped one hand around my thick cock and started jerking, feeling the pleasure quickly rising in me. “MMMM, you’re a beast Joe,” I moaned to myself, so turned on by my own muscles. I couldn’t stop running my other hand over my torso as I jerked, marvelling in the feel of the solid muscles now strapped onto my previously weedy frame. Only minutes ago I’d been a tiny 33yo, with a bit of a beer-gut. Now I was a total alpha muscle stud. This thought drove me on closer to climax as I let out low, deep moans and grunts. I jerked my cock faster, still flexing as I watched in the mirror. “Oh fuck,” I moaned, “I’m gonna fucking shoot…”. I worked myself up more and more, relishing the new length and girth of my cock and the sticky pre-leaking from it. Huge grunts escaped my mouth as my massive chest heaved with each breath drawn in. Within seconds I felt my full, aching balls tighten and I had nearly collapsed to the floor in the most intense orgasm of my life, surpassing even when I’d been with Karl the other day. It was like my whole body exploded in pleasure, each of my newly engorged muscles flooding with an indescribable sensation. “AAHHHHHHHH,” I screamed in ecstasy as rivers of warm cum erupted from my huge cock, splashing over the mirror and floor, the final few spurts dribbling down my huge ripped quads. I gazed at the sight in the mirror – I was amazed at the huge hunk of muscle standing in front of me, his colossal chest heaving over tight ripped abs and an enormous thick cock still leaking cum onto the floor. I couldn’t believe this muscle stud was me. I ran my hands up over my cobbled abs and thick chest, feeling sweat and cum mingling together over the rock solid muscle underneath, before falling backwards onto the bed in blissful exhaustion.
  20. Home of the Gods Part Eight-Finale by F_R_Eaky Part One: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13486-home-of-the-gods-part-one-by-f_r_eaky/ Part Two: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13487-home-of-the-gods-part-two-by-f_r_eaky/ Part Three: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13490-home-of-the-gods-part-three-by-f_r_eaky/ Part Four: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13502-home-of-the-gods-part-four-by-f_r_eaky/ Part Five: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13527-home-of-the-gods-part-five-by-f_r_eaky/ Part Six: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14012-home-of-the-gods-part-six-by-f_r_eaky/ Part Seven: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14350-home-of-the-gods-part-seven-by-f-r_eaky/ Fabian woke very late in the morning. Hoisting himself off the floor, he stretched and massaged himself as the unheated concrete floor seeped cold into his body and his new larger muscles and bones ached with a larger amount of stiffness. He nearly fell over and down again, attempting to walk forward, but learning he needed to do a side kick kind of step allowing his burgeoning thighs to roll forward and around one another. Not to mention his arms felt so big and heavy and swung too much weight when he tried to compensate on his balance. It also didn't help that his arms almost couldn't swing back and forth due to the size of his lats and broadness and thickness of his pectorals. He decided to walk to the bathroom and shower, curious as he heard it running and he remembered not finishing it before being... .... ... could one call it an attack? Before being attacked the day before by three of Gabriel's friends. After walking a few steps he spun around and looked at the door. He swore to God he heard someone pounding on it furiously as though trying to break in by breaking the door down. He didn't hear or see anything. Turning to walk back to the bathroom he heard the pounding again, stopped turned and looked... ... ... nothing. He turned away again, but thought before he began to walk and then took off for the bathroom, pausing and smiling when he realized the noise was the sound of his twenty-one inch long, thick, muscular meaty feet slapping the floor when he walked. But then he heard an actual bang. It sounded like pounding on the delivery truck door that went down the wall and finally to the people entrance. A couple of extreme pounds later and suddenly there burst through Gabriel, looking extremely pissed and screaming at the top of his lungs. "You somehow manage to make my boys go mental. Screaming about some giant Olympian bodybuilder. That's it. You may be a little taller than me, Reid, but I am gonna take... you.... .... .... down?" Gabriel had taken a goodly number of steps into the warehouse before he noticed the hulking figure that was now Fabian. Standing at what was a few inches below the point of where Fabian's lats began to flare out from his abdomen and obliques, Gabriel took in the view as Ian loomed over him and did a most muscular, flaring out his neck, traps, and shoulders, while ballooning out his chest and upper arms. Gabriel whimpered just a little and then slowly backed away before making a dash for the door and running out of the warehouse. Fabian chuckled to himself. "I didn't even have to say anything. I actually didn't have to say a word." He turned and began to walk back towards the bathroom, feeling his cock inflate longer and heavier as the thought of just posing at Gabriel made him turn and run. By the time he made it to the bathroom doorway, it was fully erect and his head was preceding him into the bathroom by nearly two feet. Suddenly there was a tug and a pull on his massive member and when Fabian finally walked through, he looked down to see Reid smiling, holding his cock, and standing right at the point where his lats flared out from the rest of Fabian's body. "You know...anything that sticks out two feet or more from the vehicle carrying it has to be tagged with a red flag. That's the law." "It's already got quite the red head. Isn't that enough?" "It is for me" said Reid smiling as he continued to pull Fabian into the shower, which he had finished up when he woke up earlier. Reid had some personal fun as he helped lather Fabian up, groping and cupping all of the new mountainous muscle bellies that covered Fabian's body. Truly, if he was normal height, he'd be one of the biggest built bodybuilders ever with enviable genetics everyone hoped and wished for. Reid then went through and traced every crevice, attempted to massage Fabian's muscles, before he finally tried to help massage any stiffness out of Fabian's muscles due to sleeping on the cold concrete floor. Eventually he took in Fabian's cock head as best he could, licking and stroking it until both he and Fabian needed to stay in for another shower to get cleaned up. Afterwards, they finished putting together Fabian's new make-shift bed and lay down upon it, talking. "You had me a bit worried, Fabe. As the changes occurred you kept going on about strength and power. I thought you were going to become an asshat meathead." "I was a bit overpowered and overwhelmed by the sensation. C'mon, Reid, you can't tell me you never felt good about standing head and shoulders over most males, or that your stronger and better built than them. I've seen you slightly show off. You like it when you can use your size to play the hero." "I try not to be arrogant about it though, and you were just in full self-lust and power-worship as your body blew up and grew. And who plays the hero now?", Reid said despondently. "Some protector I'm gonna be. You stand just over three feet taller than me! And I know you love to top. When your cock first grew it was fine. Felt great. But now.... You're so big and big and BIG! If we're gonna make out... .... I think I'd have to fuck your cock." "Hey....hey..." said Fabian softly. "We'll figure out some way to make it work out. And just because I'm bigger..." "So much bigger..." "That doesn't mean you still can't stand up for me. And out of all the pricks that are Gabriel's friends, only one stands taller than you, and he's definitely smaller built than you. You're almost a foot taller than average males and bigger built than most sports stars. Don't think of yourself as week and useless to me. You remember the first time you actually hefted a really good decent amount of weight?" "Yeah..." "And the pump it gave the body part you were working out?" "Yeah..." "Or how your clothes felt so much tighter, or better yet the time you first ripped out of shirt by accident?" "Yeah..." said Reid now laughing lightly. "Or the time you finally realized you stood taller than your old man, or most of your school mates?" "Yeah...." "Then think of it from my point of view. I was a very scrawny, 5' 2" tall man. Even average guys towered over me. Suddenly I'm growing up and up and up, my muscles are filling out and out and out. I see average men getting smaller, tall men becoming average - child size, and I can feel a power in my body that's growing more and more the bigger I get. It's just like those feelings you experienced, but they were happening all at once and kept going and growing for like so much... ... ... It was just.... such a huge rush. Such a glorious feeling filling me up." "I can tell." said Reid smirking and reached up and gave Fabian's once again erect cock a pull down to the bed top and then allowed it to spring up and smack Fabian in his abs all the way to just below his chest. Both the men chuckled and then with a gleam in his eye, Fabian grabbed Reid and pulling him, Reid's back to his chest and abs, finally rolled over on his side to lay down with Reid engulfed by his body. Reid lay there feeling the heat pulse through Fabian's cock on his back. "C'mon, love. You gotta let me go." "Spoon." "You're going to make me late for work." "SPOON!" "Really, Fabe, someone has to pay for this warehouse." Fabian lowered his voice as deep as it could go and then softly growled in Reid's ear, "spooooooooooooooooooon." The pair lay there until there was just enough time for Reid to get dressed and get to work on time, but they both wished the moment could last forever. **************************************************************************** That night, started one of the worst times in Fabian's life. It was going on 9 p.m. and Reid was at least three hours late getting home from work. At ten after nine there was a loud thump against the regular door, followed by the sound of several people banging on the truck delivery door. This was followed by the sound of many running footsteps and tire squeals. Fabian cautiously went to the regular entrance door and saw the bottom of it had a large dent inwards. Opening the door, he saw the reason, a large cinder block with a note that read: "You're a giant strongman. That doesn't mean you don't have a weakness. You may not venture out because of your size, but your lover does." At twenty after nine, Reid stumbled through the door, low moaning Fabian's name. There was a gash on his brow in between his eyebrows, both eyes were black, his lips were swollen and if he did move them, blood was coming out of his mouth and hiding his teeth. One hand was black and blue and it seemed attached oddly about halfway up the arm. He had trouble breathing, his work uniform was torn, one shoe was missing, once there he couldn't walk, and his delivery van that he drove home in was nowhere in sight. Immediately Fabian went to dial the emergency number, cursing his new size as his much larger digits constantly pressed more than one number every time he attempted to dial on the much smaller cell phone. Finally he grabbed a pencil and began to use that and called an ambulance. The EMT's arrived to discover Reid just lying inside the warehouse. Fabian knew how the scene would look if he had stayed there. Giant bodybuilder - man beaten to a pulp. He would be blamed and arrested. He left running down into a nearby aqua duct and hiding under the bridge where a road passed over it. Reid wound up in the hospital for two weeks. Punctured lung, three broken ribs, concussion, broken ocular bone, one tooth removed, broken arm, sprained ankle. He was released but still laid up for another three months or so while waiting for bones to heal. Fabian had to take care of things for him on his own. He checked his personal account and then had to make friend with a local whom he not only felt he could trust, but, of course showed what man his size could do if the guy just took off with the card and spent his money. They guy helped move in a restaurant sized refrigerator and enough groceries to store in it. Later Fabian used it to buy some building supplies, only he wasn't going to build onto the warehouse structure. Cinder blocks, mortar, I-beams Fabian used to first make a "bench" that could support him, his weight, and any weight he worked out with. Then he began to build walls onto the ends of the I-beams, small ones at first, then medium, and finally some larger ones. Fabian was seeing red. They had beaten up Reid and he couldn't do anything about it. Well, he soon would. Fabian used the wall and beam segments he bought to make something akin to a set of weights and he began to work out... and work out... and work out. He kept his muscles engorged with blood as much as he could, allowing only for proper rest to ensure growth. He ate until he thought his stomach would burst, and hoped he could transfer all of it to his already enormous muscles.... and he did. Fabian watched on the scale as his weight went up and up....ten pounds....twenty pounds..... forty pounds.....eighty pounds.... one-hundred pounds. He had trouble walking before, now he really swayed side to side as he kicked his legs around one another. Just ten pounds over the seventeen hundred pound mark. One-thousand, seven-hundred, ten pounds of pure muscle. But that wasn't all that Fabian did. Shortly after starting his workouts, Fabian began to noticed odd things. The basket he had been presented with on his induction to the tribe had increased in size and now housed his newly sized cock and balls regardless of whether flaccid or erect. He began to wear it most of the time to keep his cock out of his way when lifting. Some of the cinder blocks had been used to make another shallow pool in the bathroom and a very large natural stone had been placed in the back part of said pool. Wild, tropical flowers had begun sprouting and growing in parts of the bathroom, so Fabian knew he had begun chanting again. Mid-spring is when Reid was finally able to come back to the warehouse, still looking a little tired and drained of color. He opened the door and walked in, staring at the odd sculptures that Fabian had made out of the cinder blocks and I-beams not knowing they were new weights for a giant man, and then out of the corner of his eye saw the massive, Titan like frame of Fabian as he stood up from his make shift bed. Reid wasn't sure what to say or to ask. He was stunned by how much larger, beefier Fabian looked. How much heavier he sounded when he walked. But it was the odd look in Fabian's eye that left Reid speechless and motionless. It was a mixture of a blank stare and determination. Fabian reached out and grabbed Reid like he was a child, carried him into the bathroom and then placed Reid in the small pool like area next to the actual shower. He placed Reid with his back against an very tall, thick, stone, the top of which poked up and out of the floor, a smooth round boulder with a crack in the top. Torches were lit everywhere within the bathroom, followed by bundles of incense of some kind, with a very heady and very musky in aroma. Invisible drums began to be beaten and Fabian began to sing chants louder and louder. He made sweeping motions with his feet upon the ground and urged Reid to do the same. Reid began to mimic the movement out of fear of a what behemoth sized, tranced Fabian might do to him if he did. Soon, Reid's legs were as though they were made out of rubber, stretching out instead of being moved in a sweeping motion. His vision began to blur and his head swooned as the bathroom seemed to heave and undulate, warping, skewing in shape and form. Suddenly the floor beneath him began to feel warm, very warm. Warm enough he began to hop dance instead of making the sweeping motion he had been instructed to perform. At this Fabian began to scream, but not in terror, more in ecstasy, as though moaning in orgasm, and in an orgasm so great he might just expel their own soul when cumming. Fabian had been wearing his basket to hold his genitalia and took it off. Reid knew Fabian had become endowed after his last battle with Gabriel's friends, but he still marveled now at the ginormous 16.25 inch, flaccid hung member of Fabian and at how much longer and thicker it became after growing to a 2 foot long erection. Reid knew that Fabian must be spending most of his time walking around nude or in a pair of pants sporting the most obscene bulge ever seen on a man. Erect Fabian's penis didn't stick up like many men's erect penis do, but instead stuck straight out and bobbed as if it was a divining rod made for dowsing. Still hop dancing, his back and arms against the tall rock formation behind him, to help support him in his dance as his head began to swoon more and more, his eyes becoming heavy and tired, Reid began to feel hot and extremely bothered. For some reason he was being turned on. Fabian came forward and removed his shirt, pants, and underwear, and Fabian had already removed his shoes before entering the bathroom. With his small, flaccid cock now flopping around free it began to grow and lengthen to its mighty and full erect status of 7 inches. The heat was growing in him. He felt the heat rising up his body, and felt the heat rising up the stone as well. He thought he felt the air caressing his balls and tugging at his cock. Warmer and warmer he and the rock became, and the hotter they got, the hornier Reid grew. The feeling became so powerful Reid was convulsing more than he was dancing or stomping, the shock waves of pleasure riding over him. Suddenly Fabian let out groans and gasps of ecstasy, his mighty cock having grown even more incredibly long and thick, now spewing forth ribbons and ribbons of cum into the small, wading pool in which Reid was standing. Fabian fell forward upon his knees, taking his hands and rubbing his seed into the ground, groping and massaging, as though fondling some massive muscle or body. The heat kept building and building, Fabian and Reid were sweating profusely. Reid swore he was getting burned on his feet and back as the temperature began to rise higher and higher in the pool floor and the stone. Eventually the ground rumbled and a great gushing sound could be heard followed by a great torrent of water streaming over and down the great rock behind Reid's back. Fabian rose up and backed away as the water cascaded over Reid, drenching him, coating him, and filling up the small wading pool. Striking the pool, part of the water began to hiss, evaporating into great clouds of steam, upon which Reid's head snapped back, he jerked and convulsed, and felt as though someone, something, reached through his dick, into his balls, and pulled out his cum in great strands that felt large enough to be ropes for a sailing ship. Gasping for air, sinking to his knees, Reid saw Fabian approach. "I am Kali'iti'nui no more. I am now, Tanakamaunga - man mountain. We believe that the gods reside in our penis. Although most men of this tribe are raised since birth, being taught exercises and have weights hung to make their penis grow and grow in order to house more gods. You and I were not raised so, but that does not mean you cannot come to greatness, for look what has happened to me. You who so wished to heed the words of the chief and be my protector as he so ordered of you, shall find a way to do so. For your acts of bravery and loyalty, I have made you one of the tribe, and thus at least one god will come to reside in your cock and grant you happiness and prosperity in some form, or so I hope. I thank you. Be blessed, you who have sought to protect me, physically, mentally.... emotionally. You shall take my old name, Kali'iti'nui, meaning small giant, for among most men you are tall and built in stature, and your courage and heart is as big as the men as large as mountains." With that Fabian washed Reid's genitals and groin area with some of the geyser water that erupted from the stone, and then reaching out his hand, grabbed a newly formed basket made by the wild flowers, vines, and ivy growing all around the bathroom. He then placed the basket upon Reid's genitals and tied it around Reid's waist. Reid smiled somewhat punch-drunk like and attempted to say thank you, but fell unconscious into sleep and some of the best fantasy dreams of him and Fabian he ever had of his life. The next morning Fabian woke up to discover the other side of his bed was empty. He could've sworn he had woke from a trance and helped place Reid into bed with him. Walking to the bathroom, he discovered Reid was sitting cross-legged in the ritual pool. His eyes were slightly rolled back, and eventually Fabian could hear a chant coming across Reid's lips. " Ke'atutel'malsaga.... Ke'atutel'malsaga.... Ke'atutel'malsaga.... Ke'atutel'malsaga..." Fabian knew it was not the name of the God of Gods in the Ulpooin pantheon, but he couldn't tell Reid who it was, and Ke'atuka'ine, God of Gods, wasn't communicating any information to him from his cock. Not too long after, Reid simply woke up, took a shower, kissed Fabian and his abs good-bye and reported for work. Around four in the afternoon, Fabian received a knock and a note taped to the entrance door of the warehouse. It was from Gabriel and told him he and his friends were aware that Reid was back to work and that if Fabian didn't meet them downtown, in the back alley behind Reid's workplace, Reid would receive the pummeling of his life, or more likely his death. Fabian was to surrender himself over to Gabriel and his gang for Gabriel to do as he wished, or Reid was through. Fabian nearly broke the door off exiting the warehouse at four-fifteen. Fabian arrived to the back alley and came upon a scene probably similar to what had happened to Reid four months or so before. Reid, as per usual had worked late, making sure he had delivered all his packages and cleaned out his delivery truck. A car was parked behind the delivery van, meaning Reid couldn't leave to go home, other than by foot. That way wasn't an option as Gabriel and his friends had surrounded his way out and had pulled him into the sort of courtyard area created by the loading docks for the delivery service. He had already received a couple of good blows, and being so soon from his recent recovery, he was already swooning from the attack. It was at that moment that Fabian in a very tight pair of hand-made shorts, stepped out of the actually alleyway and its shadows to confront the men. "Ganging up on folks again. With me joining in, I'm pretty sure Reid and I can take you all down." Gabriel spun around to see Fabian and in a flash had pulled out a gun and pulled the trigger. It was an odd sound and sensation happening. It didn't sound like a gun had been fired, and Fabian didn't feel something pierce his flesh and burn going through. Instead it felt like he received an injection, and the world felt as though it was turning and his vision was blurring. "I knew you wouldn't stand by or come quietly and I don't know how you got to the size you did, but I know we couldn't take you, especially when your smaaaaaaaaall boyfriend, who isn't too small to us, except for DeWayne and possibly Fernando, would attempt to join in and take us down. So.... I got an elephant tranquilizer. Figure that'd at least incapacitate you if not make you sleep for the trip I'm going to take you on. But while you're there kneeling in your stupor, my boys and I are going to make sure Reid learns his lesson by sending him back to the hospital again and then he can watch helpless as we carry you away. We've got a tow truck and everything to help hoist you into a truck. Continue, boys." And with that the friends of Gabriel continued their fist-to-cuffs on the already dazed Reid. Arjun kicking Reid in the balls. Michael smacking Reid against the face or boxing his ears. Fernando punching Reid in the gut, while DeWayne bopped him on the head in between Gan Otkai yanking on Reid's hair. All the while Fazzah screamed at him and joined Gabriel in kicking and hit him any way any where possible. Poor Reid was beaten right back to the same condition that they had left him in earlier in the year, and they laughed as they moved to grab Fabian and take him away. But suddenly there was a burst of steam from underground. It came together and made a wall separating the men from Fabian and their ability to exit. The sound of drums filled the air and a chant began to be heard. " Ke'atutel'malsaga.... Ke'atutel'malsaga.... Ke'atutel'malsaga.... Ke'atutel'malsaga..." Fernando turned around to stare at the collapsed Reid, figuring it was his voice doing the chanting.... He was right. "Ga..ga...Gabriel..." He hoarsely whispered. All the men turned around to see Reid currently kneeling on the ground, his mouth barely moving, but his word's clearly audible, although, none of the men standing knew what it was. " Ke'atutel'malsaga.... Ke'atutel'malsaga.... Ke'atutel'malsaga.... Ke'atutel'malsaga..." The men suddenly wished they could back up and out of the area as they began to see and hear Reid's body snapping and coming back into correct position. The cuts on his skin healed up and the bruises went away. Slowly but most definitely surely, Reid began to stand up and did so firmly planting his strong stance. The still connected hose Reid had used to help wash down his van suddenly came to life and stood almost straight out of the nozzle it was connected to. The steam was collecting in the are forming a pool of water beneath Reid. The pounding drum sound became louder and louder filling the air with a rhythmical din. When Reid appeared totally healed, water erupted from the standing hose and fell in a cascade upon Reid's head and washed over his body. "Auugh!" Reid moaned. "Hmmmnff!" Reid blurted again. "Ohhuwah!" And now Reid seemed to be thrusting his hips. Over and over again, Reid thrust his hips and each time the basket of his groin swelled larger and larger and larger. Reid kept moaning and thrusting and his packed kept growing becoming obscenely obvious. His pants grew tighter and tighter in the crotch area. Three mounds were forming, one that looked like an extremely large banana was being carried and underneath were the other two grapefruits. Reid finally let a long low scream out as if he was still growing and couldn't take it, and everyone present watched as Reid's cock tore open the teeth of the zipper on his cargo shorts and then flopped out. And it wasn't just his pecker; his balls helped spread the opening and rip it further apart as they fell and dropped out as well. Reid's cock had grown enormously long and thick and his screams of pain trailed off into a sigh of relief and then a laugh of pleasure. Reid's schlong was growing and getting longer and thicker, and his balls were swelling as well. So heavy...so round.... his prick so long...so thick....so hard.... so veiny. It grew and grew until Reid was just as hung and virile as Fabian ever would be. Reid began to laugh pleasantly at first and then almost a little maniacal, as if some stream of an idea washed over his mind. This was replaced by small gasps and grunts as Reid began to jerk his feet up and down, side to side, stomping and stomping. The seven gentlemen who had just beaten him up stared at his feet to try and see what was happening and then they began to see. The sides of his work boots began to bulge out and curl over the sides of his sole. One large ridge formed in the front of each shoe, soon to become a row of one large and four smaller bulges pushing the front of the shoe over the front of the sole. The heel began to stretch very tightly and Reid's ankles started overfilling the holes that were where the feet entered. In another few moments one could hear and see the straining, exceedingly taut laces snap in surrender, followed by the odd, low, ripping sound of hard leather as Reid's feet out grew his shoes by one, two, four, eight, sixteen, twenty, twenty-four sizes to become thick, meaty, muscular, 21" long man feet. Michael, the man with the giant paws and feet for a man of just 6' 2" or so tall, noticing what might be happening, broke his hypnotized stance of awe and ran to take Reid down. He might of succeeded, but Reid's hands had grown equally as much as his feet had and he swung his arm to deliver his own smack down. Michael was knocked senseless and about half way across the square loading area. Reid's balls had been throbbing, increasing in size and then shrinking, pulling up. Every time they had done so is when Reid's hands and feet got bigger. They started doing so again and as Reid moaned and groaned in greater pain while grabbing a hold of his legs and arms, a small cracking and breaking sound was heard and Reid stood taller....and Taller....and TALLER....and TAAAAAAALLER! His socks which had shrunk from just under his calves with the growth of his feet to just above his ankles shrunk down further to just under his ankles. His shorts moved from his knees to one fourth the way up his thigh, half-way up the thigh, too looking like 1970's sports, short shorts to almost like brief underwear, except despite his trim build his waist snapped the button and now his fly was pulled excessively wide apart. His shirt hem rose and rose above his waist, above his abs, beyond where his lats come in and stopped just under his chest. Not that you could see that because having already been fairly muscular and now three feet taller, every button had been popped off the shirt as his chest stretched the shirt open. The sleeves rode up and up over his mighty upper arms, over his delts, and if the front of the shirt was complete it would've gone from a short sleeve shirt to sleeveless muscle shirt. Swaying a bit as the pain settled from his massive growth spurt, Reid bent forward causing his back to rip the shirt down the back and thus only hang on him via his shoulders. His neck had snapped the collar as well. Shucking the shirt off of his body, he smiled as he noticed that his bending forward had caused his bubble butt to blow out the back of his cargo shorts. He then reached and yanked what was left of his shorts and underwear off of his body as well as using his long toes to pull the now tiny socks off of his feet. He closed his eyes and breathed in a few deep breaths, feeling the cool spring breeze caressing his body. Before any of the now six men could move, Reid began to do small shouts, like power lifters and bodybuilders make before they hoist a weight up. "Uhp..." And Reid suddenly did a side triceps pose. "Ommmph" And into a side chest. "hoop!" Lat spread. "hnngh!" Most muscular, crab shot. "Hup!" Abdominal crunch and front thigh extension. "Hep!" Front double biceps pose. "Hooch!" Back double biceps pose. "HRRRR!" Back, Thigh Bicep, and Calve pose. Over and over and over again Reid kept cycling through the poses and each time he did so, his muscles swelled bigger....larger....thicker....harder....fuller....denser....broader....veinier.... His calves inflated into giant pulsing hearts and finally a throbbing diamond shape. The thighs ballooned and grew into a collection of swollen tear drop shapes like a bunch of water balloons. His abs formed bricks fit for the Great Wall of China, while his obliques bunched and formed such as to look like a great lattice work was plastered on Reid's sides. His lats grew out so wide and thick it looked like he could jump from a plane and join para-gliders without the need for the special winged suits. His arms flared out more and more at greater angles from his body as his upper arms inflated and grew until one swore he had a football stuffed in where his biceps should be. A pair of thick muscular shapes looking like Clydesdale sized horseshoes hanging off the back of the arms. Forearms so thick and powerful they matched the size of Reid's calves. Shoulders that were so full and round and with such density, surely they were world globes stolen off of statues of Atlas holding up the world. His chest barreled so thick and round, so wide and full, he could see nothing standing directly in front of him. Even his erect cock had a hard time sticking out beyond it to be seen. His traps rose and rose like some great range of mountains and his neck swole as thick and round as segments from the Giant's Causway. Reid now strode over to the side of the building, kicking his legs out to the sides in order to move forward. Grabbing a hold of a large iron bar embedded into the brick building, he ripped it free from the mortar and then proceeded to bend it into an arch. He growled as he did so, his voice lowering and lowering in extreme bass tones, while with each degree the bar bent, the hair on Reid grew out and out, thicker, fuller, feathery, until his red hair hung halfway down his back and his hair glistened like glitter all over his body. Throwing the bar in front of Gabriel and his friends, Reid raised his hands above his head and struck a victory pose. At the same time several glowing balls of light came down and anyone watching swore they entered Reid's cock through is piss slit. Once that was done Reid turned and glared with a smirk while bellowing out a name. "GA-BRI-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL!" It echoed throughout the little loading square, and as Gabriel realized he was looking up to Reid as much as he did to Fabian, he actually pissed his pants. "I am not Reid.... I am NOT Kali'iti'nui..... I AM MALSAGAMAUNGA - MEANING TWIN MOUNTAIN!" The god that had inhabited Reid at his initiation by Fabian was Ke'atutel'malsaga, the god of twins and he had chosen to make Reid Fabian's fraternal twin, so to speak, in order for him to be able to protect Fabian, for it takes someone of equal size and strength to protect another man so large. Another spray of water streamed out of the hose, splattering all over Fabian, and the heavy drowsiness he felt began to leave him. His vision cleared, his heavy body, although still feeling heavy, was light enough for him to manage it again. Standing up behind the six men, Michael only just now coming to from Reid's smack down, Fabian growled and struck a most muscular that cause the men to scream and wish for a way out. The drums that had quieted down quite a bit began to pick up their rhythm and loudness. Gabriel's posse began to hold their hands over their ears and look around in bewilderment. Fabian and Reid oohed and moaned in both pleasure and pain as their cocks throbbed so hard, they stuck straight out of their bodies without any bobbing whatsoever. "Friends of Gabriel," Spoke Fabian, "Leave and leave now. Correct your ways or know that we will be here to take care of you. Go.... .... .... NOW!" Fabian's words echoed so loudly it took a good five minutes and several blocks of reverb before the echo faded away. The pair was pretty sure that all six men pissed their pants as they quickly ran away leaving Gabriel all alone. As the drums thundered away, Fabian and Reid began approaching Gabriel, stroking their pricks. Gabriel turned and turned, basically spinning round and round, beginning to whimper and cry. "Two great acts...." "...have been done..." "...in order to...." "...bring us into...." "...the fold...." "....Great acts...." "....do not come...." "....without a cost...." "....some kind of...." "....sacrifice must be made...." "...We will gladly...." "...take a soul....." "...who cannot...." "....be redeemed...." And at that moment, Fabian and Reid stood their ground and suddenly bellowed in ecstasy, and released a load of great, long, strands of cum that spewed in great loops around Gabriel and once coated, as Fabian and Reid moaned and shot off more of their load, Gabriel shrank....as the pair grew....as Gabriel shrank....and the men Grew....and Gabriel became smaller.... and they giants got ever bigger...... For each inch the gods took from Gabriel, they seemed to give two, four, or six inches to Fabian and Reid. By the time all was said and done the hulking forms of Fabian and Reid stood twelve feet six inches tall, twenty seven inch long size US Mens 59 shoe feet, and weighing three-thousand, three-hundred, ninety-three pounds, with cocks that had grown to three feet long. The once decently sized and bullying Gabriel was now only 5' tall, exceptionally thin and week, and just barely stood mid-thigh to Fabian and Reid. The giant pair of men bent at their waist so they could see Gabriel and whispered in growling tones, "You can go now." Gabriel did not have to be told twice. He gathered up his now ill, extremely loose fitting clothing and ran as best as he could back to his apartment where it is said he wept and wept and made a decision never to leave, and especially not to do missionary work. Meanwhile back at the square Reid approached Fabian and the two muscle giants began to grapple and wrestle one another. Eventually the two pulled one another into the other and began to kiss deeply, passionately, frantically. The mammoth manhoods began to rise and become engorged with blood, and they backed off a bit to hoist them up, cock heads between their pecs, and then move back together, holding one another and grinding their hips so their erect phallics began to rub each other up and down. After several minutes of frotting, Fabian picked up Reid by Reid's ass, flinging and wrapping the massively mounding legs and meaty feet of Reid around his waist. In this position he pushed Reid towards Reid's truck, causing the back doors and much of the roof to cave in, followed by the tires blowing out, once almost 7,000 pounds or three and half tons of male muscle collapsed upon the delivery van floor. With the small amount of height difference, Fabian took advantage and plunged his prestigious pecker into Reid's cavernous hole. Reid's neck arched as his head tilted back. He reach up to grab around the driver's seat for support and wound up pulling it, breaking it free from it's stationary position in the van. The two thrust and rocked, twisted and pounded. Whatever part of van's shelving that didn't collapse when the two fell into the van, their motion now knocked, dinged, and bent, deforming the pieces from ever being usable again. Reid pushed on the walls while grunting and moaning in pleasure and pain. And behold, the van's wall's did bulge out in massive mounding bulges with gigantic hand prints in the center. The front of the van was taking a beating as well, for with each thrust Fabian was giving, he pushed the van into the loading bay wall. Headlights, grill work, bumpers, were no more. In what seemed like hours to them, Fabian finally started herky-jerking out of control. The spasm of sexual bliss was washing over him and with one last thrust he shot a load so powerful, so large, that Reid swore it came up into his mouth a bit all the way from his ass. The very thought of which had him spewing over his head to coat the front of the van and shatter the windshield. The pair went home to the warehouse, which was now a bit cramped, but luck was on their side, actually. Six other gods came to reside in the protruding penis of Reid. The gods of: luck in chance, money, plant fertility, crafting arts and technology, stamina, and handsomeness. By the time they were done with Reid, he had the face of a modelesque, GQ man, with the body of a giant bodybuilding, muscle god, and knowledge of electronics and furniture making as well as financial savy. It wasn't long until Reid was financially independent, and then they bought a much larger warehouse and converted it into something that nearly looked like a grand Edwardian mansion with furniture built their size so they looked somewhat normal when they had flex and sex shows on the internet. That proved to make them very rich financially. Which was good, as folks passing by at night in front of their house swear from time to time they still hear the savage beats of the wild jungle drums and that more and more shadows are cast upon windows of very large, tall, and hung men.
  21. Part 3 for these guys, but more to come.... “Hey Ty.” Ian and Colin say in unison as they walk into the gym and check in. They eye Ty up like he’s piece of meat. He notices their stares and flexes a pec and tenses his bicep to get a reaction from them. “Gentlemen.” He responds. He looks them over and says, “You guys look different?” “Yeah, a little surprise for Eddie. Is he here? We’re supposed to meet him for our workout session. Core and legs tonight.” Ian said flexing his abs and puffing out his chest. Ty looks at him admiringly. “Not yet.” Ty replies and then points his finger at the two of them and says sternly, “I don’t want any more trouble from you two, got it?” “Yeah, yeah. We hear you Ty.” Colin says breezily. “Should I dial 9-1- and wait to hit the last 1? You know how he gets with surprises.” Colin walks past Ty, patting him on his chest and says, “We’ll be fine big guy, trust me.” “That’s what worries me.” Ty says rolling his eyes. “I’m keeping my eyes on you two, especially you Colin.” Ian and Colin hit the locker room, change into their workout gear, chat with Ming and Cam as those two head to the sauna area, and then head up to the exercise floor. They see Jay and Max and stop and talk to them for a few minutes. Colin remarks that Max should cut off some of his curly hair and Jay laughs and says, “That’ll be the day.” Eddie walks in. He sees them and walks over to them. Jay and Max say hi to Eddie and wander off. “What the fuck you kids do? G1, tell me.” Eddie is staring at them, but he can no longer tell them apart. “We’ll come clean, after the workout.” One of them says resolutely. Eddie starts to get red. The twin continues, “After last week, we decided to make it harder for you to tell us apart. We’re both still sore and don’t think the rough sex you had with us was fitting compared to what we did to you. We came clean about how we cornered you, but we think you took it a bit too far with us.” Eddie just stares at them. “Fine. Let’s do this.” His brain is turning. “What’s our workout for tonight?” “Core and legs.” One of them says. “Fine. Gets you asses over to the decline crunch bench. Grab a 25, 35, and 45lb weight and the 25lb medicine ball on the way.” They get to the bench and Colin hops on first, before Eddie gets a chance to call one of them out. “Start with the 25lb weight. 15 reps, starting with the weight extended over your head. You come all the way up into a sit-up position and then go all the way back down with the weight hitting the ground on the decline. Well? Go! What the fuck you waiting for, an invitation?” Colin starts the set. Eddie standing over him. “All the way down. The weight hits the floor or the rep doesn’t count, got it?” “Yup.” Colin runs thru the set, only having to do one extra rep. He jumps off and Ian gets on and takes the weight. He starts and gets a good motion going. He’s at ten reps when Eddie tells him to slow down. He’s moving too fast. He needs to go slower so all the muscles in his core are activated. Eddie puts his hand on Ian’s midsection and explains that the slower you go, the more the ab muscles work and are stressed. This is what causes them to tighten up. Going fast doesn’t do anything. Ian nods in understanding and does the last 5 and then 5 more. Eddie nods in approval and runs his hand over the abs getting a good grope in. Ian smiles and looks at Colin who grins back. Colin gets back on and Eddies tells the other one to grab the medicine ball. “You toss the ball to him when he is going down. You toss the ball back when you reach the top, and not before. Also, extend the ball over your head for the entire movement.” He stands to the side and shows them what it should look like. They both nod and Colin gets started. He is 5 reps in when Eddie yells, “Slow the fuck down. Jesus Christ. This is not a contest to get the set done the fastest. You’re here to work. Start over.” Colin thinks about saying something, but sees Ian giving him the “shut up” look and decides to bite his tongue. He starts over and does 15 reps nice and slow. He is definitely feeling the burn. He gets off the bench and Ian gets on and does the set nice and slow. When he is done, Eddie nods and says, “Better.” “My turn.” Eddie says. He grabs the 35lb weight and hops on the bench. He looks at the guys and says, “You.” Nodding to Ian, but not knowing which one he is. “When I’m in the decline position, you’re going to punch me 3 times in the abs. Got it? And I mean punch, not some sissy slap or hit.” He balls his left hand into a fist and punches it so hard into his right hand the sound it makes causes some of the other guys to pause their work out and look over. Ty wanders by and Eddie just nods and says, “Just showing the kids what a real punch looks and sounds like.” “K.” Is all Ty says. Eddie starts and when he is declined, Ian gives him 3 rapid ab punches. “Not too bad, boy, but don’t hold back next time. I want to actually feel you hitting me.” Ian smiles a wicked grin only Colin sees and on the next rep he unleashes 3 rocket fast and sledge hammer hard punches. “Good boy.” Is Eddie’s only response. The set continues and Ian is sporting a pretty impressive woody due to the excitement of punching Eddie. “You.” He says pointing to Ian. “Get the medicine ball and toss to me.” He nods to Colin, “You’re in the puncher position. Let’s see if you are any better than him.” He says waving a hand at Ian. The set starts and Colin holds nothing back. Three punches to the abs when Eddie is declined. “Not bad.” The set continues and Eddie’s abs are getting rock hard and red from all the punches. Now both Colin and Ian are sporting woodies and Eddie is showing signs of one as well. He jumps off the bench and Colin gets back on. Eddie hands him the 35lb weight and says, “Same as the first set, but if you fuck up a rep, you get to do 2 extra reps to make it up.” He looks at Ian and says, “You, kneel down at his head and when he is in the decline position, put your hands on the weight making it harder for him to raise back up.” Colin starts the set. Ian puts pressure on the weight as instructed. Eddie is watching them like a hawk. On the 11 rep, he starts to falter. Eddie starts barking at him to keep moving. “You, stop holding the weight.” Colin finishes the set. He slowly gets off the bench and says to Ian, “It’s harder than you think.” Ian nods and settles in for his set. He gets to 9 and starts to falter. Eddie gets red and starts yelling at him to man up and push thru it. Ian gets to 15 and Eddie says he needs to do 4 more due to screwing up 2 reps. Ian’s core is burning up, but he does the four more without complaint. He slowly gets off the bench and wanders off for some water. “Did I say you could get some water?” Ian looks him in the eyes and responds evenly. “Fuck you.” Eddie walks closer and loudly says, “What was that?” grabbing Ian’s crotch. Ian reaches out and grabs Eddie’s dick to show him two can play the game. Colin is standing close by in case things start to go sideways. Ty and Jay are also looking over. Max has stopped his set and glances over to Colin who nods ever so slightly that everything should be ok. Max makes eye contact with Jay and nods that everything is fine. Eddie releases Ian’s crotch and Ian releases Eddie’s. They back away from each other. Eddie grabs the 45lb weight, gets the bench, and says. “One of you on each side. When I’m declined, both of you will punch my abs 4 times each. Got it?” They nod and the set starts. When Eddie is declined, the guys go to town. Eddie revels in the feeling of the weight in his hands and two guys punching him, trying to abuse his abs. He’s not even flexing his abs yet and they think they’re hurting him. He starts to sport a boner just thinking about it. The twins see his boner and each start to sport one as well. After 20 reps Eddie drops the weight and leans up. He pulls the twins close to him and cups their asses. “You kids better be ready for some fun tonight.” The twins look at each other and give him a non-committal look. “Fine. Next set, oblique crunches. I’m sure you guys have done them.” The twins nod. “Good, go do two sets of 50. And after that do 5 sets of side planks, holding each for 45 seconds.” They nod again. They wander off to do their sets and Ian says to Colin, “What do you think?” “If we survive, we’ll tell him.” He glances behind them to make sure Eddie is not following them and says, “What the hell were you thinking telling him to fuck off? He looked like he was going to put his fist thru your chest.” “Dude, he just pissed me off and I had to let him know we can’t be pushed around.” Colin just shrugs his shoulders. They do the exercises and walk back to find Eddie deep into squats. They see a squat rack next to his and it is loaded with 135lbs. Ian walks over and starts his set. Eddie just grunts. He’s lifting 295lbs and can’t be bothered. He lowers his ass as far as it will go, loudly grunts, and pushes the weight up for the last rep. He racks the bar. His thighs are exploding and Colin wonders what his starting weight was. Eddie nods to him and says to strip the 35’s put another 45lb on each side with a 25. Colin stares at the bar doing the math in his head. “365, boy” is all Eddie says, but he casually flexes his legs to show the musculature and striations. Ian has finished his set and Colin walks over and does his warmup set. After they finish, they see Eddie has laid out 45’s to be added. They toss them on and start their second sets. Eddie is motoring thru his set and starting to huff on the pushup. Ian is staring at his bubble ass and Eddies sees him in the mirror and says, “Only if you’re a good boy.” Colin has finished his second set and Eddie says to toss 25’s on each side for a total of 275. This is closing in on their max weight. Ian settles in and ducks under the bar. Colin get behind him, but Eddie moves over and pushes him out of the way. “No offense buddy, but if he falters, the weight has to come off his shoulders as quick as possible and I think I’m better equipped to do it, don’t you?” He flexes his biceps and they spring up to 23 inch mounds. Colin nods fine. Eddie gets so close to Ian that his woody is nearly poking him in the ass. Ian smiles a crooked grin, hefts the weight off the rack and takes a few steps back. Eddie backs up with him. Ian starts his set and Eddie is matching him movement for movement, his arms are around Ian’s core to support him if he falters. Ian gets to 10 reps and starts to move forward to re-rack and Eddie says, “Not so fast. You owe me 3 more. Your ass wasn’t low enough on 3 of them.” Ian’s legs are burning, but he knows he cannot say no. He backs up and very slowly does 3 more, each one slower than the last. On the last one Eddie has put his arms around his core and is supporting him and helping him lift the bar. He re-racks and Eddie pats him on the ass and says, “Nice set.” Ian nods to him in the mirror. Colin then steps into position and Eddie does the exact same thing. Colin gets thru all 10 without incident. Eddie pats his ass as well and winks at him in the mirror. Colin winks back and grinds his ass back into Eddie’s crotch. Eddie moves back and announces last exercise. The twins are a bit confused as Eddie is cutting their workout short. He sees their confusion and says, “Don’t worry, your workout is kind of over, but mine is still going.” They look at each other and Eddie says, “Everyone over to the incline leg press machine and start tossing 45’s on each side.” The twins do as he says. They load the bars up with 5 plates and each side and Eddies laughs at them and says, “I said to load it up, does this look loaded up to you? This is a good warm up weight. Let me rip off a set while you two go get 3 more 45’s for each side. Let see who can finish first. Me doing the set or you guys getting the plates…Go.” The twins scramble to find 6 more plates and when they get back, Eddie is standing there, thighs exploding with muscle. “Guess I won. Hmm, I wonder what I get for winning. While I think about it, put the weights on the machine.” The boys load the weights onto the machine. When they’re done, Eddie walks up, picks up Colin, and sets him on top of the machine. “Part of my prize. Sit tight and don’t fall off.” Colin grabs the sides of the machine and Eddie sits down. He looks up and cocks an eyebrow, Colin nods he is ready. Eddie unlocks the platform and slowly lowers it until his thighs are pressing against his abs and chest. He growls and pushes the platform back up. 885lb (720 + 165). Both twins spring instant boners. Eddie powers thru another 14 reps, locks the platform and gets up. Colin starts to move to get off and Eddie says, “Um, where are you going? I’m only half way done. You.” He says pointing to Ian, “Come here.” Ian moves over and Eddie easily lifts him onto the machine next to Colin. Ty has been watching the show and comes over and says, “Eddie, do you really think this is safe?” Eddies says, “I know you own the place, but this is only 1050lb, not even close to my max. If it makes you feel any better, get Jay over here and you guys can spot me. Actually, get Jay and Max over here and I’ll toss Max on for my last set.” Ty looks at him disturbingly, but grunts ok. He tracks down Jay and Max and explains what Eddie wants to do. Jay laughs and looks at Max who nods sure. They head back to the machine. Jay gets into position on one side while Ty is on the other. Eddie glances up at the twins, nods, and unlocks the platform. He lowers it and sees their eyes go wide. He puts on a show and easily powers thru 15 reps. Before he racks the platforms, he does 10 quick calf raises, basically shaking the platform and tossing the twins around. Ty says enough and Eddie locks the platform and gets up. He flexes his thighs, quads, and calves. The 3 little guys sprout boners and Ty and Jay nod with approval. Eddie moves to lift Max up and Jay steps in and says, “My boyfriend, I’ll put him on, no offense.” Eddie backs up, lifting his hands in surrender and says, “Ok.” Jay sets Max on the platform with Ian and Colin and makes sure all three guys are safe and won’t fall off. He gives Ty a nod and Ty tells Eddie, “No fucking around dude. Do the set and get the guys off.” “Fine. Everyone ready?” Nods all-round. Eddie grows silent and tense. He’s about to lift 1215lbs. and he knows it. Closing in on his max. He stares past the guys on the platform and only sees the ceiling behind them. He grunts and unlocks the platform. His legs bend and his thighs are hitting his chest again, but this time it’s due to the total weight and not him showing off. He lets loose a low rumble and slowly starts to push the weight up. Ty and Jay are coaxing him on, but he has all but blocked out all noise. The guys on the platform are holding on tight and their eyes are bulging out of their sockets. The sheer power he’s exerting is overwhelming to them. He gets thru 5 reps and starts to slow on the 6th. He powers it up, but has to lock the rack. He has nothing left in the tank for a 7th rep. As he stands up, everyone is cheering. Ty is lifting the twins off and Jay gets Max down. Jay walks by, pats him on the shoulder, and jokingly says, “Nice job, almost a manly weight.” Eddie scowls. Ty walks up and asks, “Show over?” Eddie just nods yes. Ty slaps him on the back and wanders off. Eddie squats down to recover some more. He looks up to see the twins in front of him. The one on the left says “Ian, or G1 to you.” Eddie glances to the other and that one says, “Colin or G2, whatever you like.” “How can I be sure you’re not fucking with me right now, as some part of your weird games?” Ian playfully says, “Meet us in the sauna when you’ve recovered and we’ll show you.” And he and Colin wander off. Eddie just stays in the squat position. Ty walks back over and says, “Whatever you do, don’t hurt them. They’re nice kids and just want to have some fun with you so you show off your muscles.” “I know, but it’s much more fun to spice it up.” Ty just stares at him. “Fine, I won’t break any bones or leave any visible marks.” “Dude, hurt them in any way and you and I will be having more than just words.” Ty says as he stands up to his full height and puffs out his chest and spreads his legs in a show of superiority. “Ty, I said fine. Jeez.” Eddie waits a few more minutes and then heads to the locker to strip and grab a towel and some supplies. While he’s there, Ming and Cam come in from the sauna area. Ming lets a sexy whistle fly and Eddie just stares at him. Ming says, “the boys are waiting for you big guy. Have fun.” “Yeah, yeah, fuck off Ming.” Ming gives Eddie a pouty look and heads to the showers with Cam. Eddie walks to the sauna area with his supplies. When he opens the sauna door, he sees the twins embracing and kissing passionately. They don’t seem to notice he’s there. He clears his throat loudly and Colin says, “Yeah, we see you Eddie. We’re just getting warmed up. Come in and shut the door, you’re letting the warm air out.” Eddie shuts the door and walks to the bench. The twins turn to him and get off the bench and approach him. They get on either side of him and let him wrap his arms around them, pulling them to his body. They start to feel him up. They start at the top of his thighs and quads, each using both hands to massage his striated muscles, working out the knots and kinks from his recent show. Eddie just sighs. The guys keep moving up and down his legs making sure each muscle is worked over. They then move up to his crotch and gently massage his dick and balls. Ian takes his balls in hand and softly rolls them around his fingers, occasionally pulling on the loose skin. Colin is steadily yanking on Eddie’s cock, trying to bring it to full mast. Eddie is standing ram-rod still and has a faraway look in eyes. They can tell he is trying very hard to stay soft and frustrate them. They look at each other across his chest and nod ever so slightly. They move their hands from his crotch area and move them up to his abs and core. They begin softly rubbing his abs, rubbing their fingers across the muscles and valleys. Eddie takes their cue and flexes his abs. They come into sharp relief. Colin leans over and starts to plant wet kisses on the muscles. Ian, not to be out done, locks his lips on Eddies left nipple and begins swirling his tongue around. He occasionally uses his tongue and teeth to pull at the nipple. As he does this, Eddie puts his hand on the back of Ian’s head and tries to pull him closer, so he is plastered onto his chest. Eddie also puts a hand on the back of Colin’s head and pulls him into the valleys in his abs. He flexes his left pec and abs at the same time and both twins moan with pleasure. Colin is slobbering over the abs, wetting them down in anticipation of what’s to come. Ian is still sucking on the left nipple, but has moved his left hand up and is now mashing and on Eddie’s right nipple. Eddie is loving it. He leans his head back and a loud groan escapes him. He pulls the twins off him and pushes them back to the bench and says, “Ok guys, I see you shaved yours bodies completely hair free to get back at me. I get it. I’ll play nice. Now, how will I be able to tell you apart?” Ian pulls a marker from under his towel and turns to Colin and draws a big number 2 on his chest. Colin takes the pen and puts a number 1 on Ian. “Work for you, big guy?” “Yup.” Ian tosses the marker back on the bench. He and Colin start to crowd Eddie again. “Show us your strength big guy” Ian says. Eddies reaches around them again, pulls them close, squats down, and simply stands up. The twins are a good 8 inches off the ground and Eddie is just standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face. “You thought I was showing off last time? Just wait boys, just wait.” He takes two strides to the bench, and sets them on the higher bench. He gets on the lower one and lays on his back. His dick is pointing straight up. He says, “G1, get a condom and lube from my stuff and get me ready.” Ian quickly hops down and does what he is told. Colin in the meantime slides off the upper bench and straddles Eddie’s midsection. He begins grinding his ass against Eddie’s junk and uses his hands to massages his pecs. Eddie just puts his hands behind his head and enjoys the feeling. He tenses his pecs and Colin starts to pound on them playfully. He leans down and begins to kiss Eddie and also places his hands on Eddie’s biceps. Eddie playfully flexes his biceps and they expand to their 23 inches. Colin feels the hardness of the muscles and increases the ferocity of his kissing. Ian in the meantime has been putting the condom on Eddie and lubing him up, generously. He the fingers on his other hand to get Colin ready for the incoming 2x4. When he’s done with both of them, he bangs on Eddie’s dick to let him know. Eddie jostles his hips in response. Eddie pulls his hands from behind his head and places them on Colin’s chest, pushing him up slightly. “You almost ready for the show to start G2?” Colin nods yes. Eddie lowers him for another quick kiss and this presses him upwards like he is doing a flat bench press. He lowers him back down, kisses him, and raises him up again. He does this 8 more times and then says, “No offense kid, but you’re kind of light. G1 get on G2’s back, face down so you can watch me and my muscles.” Ian carefully gets on Colin’s back. Eddie says, “Just insert your dick into his ass. Wouldn’t be the first time and it will give you some stability.” The twins giggle and Ian just shoves his rock hard dick into Colin. “No lube?” Ask Eddie. “”Nope.” They say as one. Eddie sets his hands on Colin’s chest again and feels around for the right points so the weight is evenly distributed. He give Colin another kiss and winks at Ian. “Here we go.” And he presses the boys up slowly. Their chests raise up, but their feet are still on the bench. Eddie lowers them to his chest. Colin leans down and he and Eddie kiss. Eddie does another press and lower. On the way down he shifts his dick around so it is at Colin’s hole. He nudges it toward the hole and starts to push it in. Colin’s eyes go wide and Ian can also feel the added pressure. Colin says, “Whoa dude, I cannot take both of you.” Eddie looks him in the eyes and says, “Don’t you even want to try? It may be fun.” “Maybe another time. My ass is still recovering from out last encounter.” “Fine.” Eddie says, a bit disappointed. “How about this.” He wraps is arms around their backs, twists his body to the side of the bench and stands up again. Ian’s dick is still wedged into Colin, who is pressed to Eddie’s chest. The boys are a good foot off the ground and Colin moves back in for another kiss. He puts his arms around Eddie’s neck for support. Eddie puckers up and starts to ravage his mouth and face. Eddie now swings his dick so it is in position to enter Ian. He slides his hands down Ian’s back, puts his left hand on his ass and promptly sticks two fingers from his right hand into Ian’s ass. Ian opens his mouth in shock and lets out a yelp. All Eddie says is, “Gotta get you ready buddy.” Ian nods blankly. Eddie grabs his unit and starts to move it towards Ian’s hole. Ian frees a hand, and puts it on Eddie’s dick and helps him. When he realizes he is too low, he says, “Eddie, you got to move my ass up a bit or you’ll never get in.” Eddie simple flexes his left bicep, which was still on Ian’s ass, and raises both guys up another 4 inches. “Far enough G1?” Ian moves Eddie’s dick into position and starts to lower himself. “Yup. Go slowly, muscles. We got time, no rush.” Ian feels the dick slowly enter him and he lets out a long guttural, “Ahhhhh… Yeah, right like that. Oh, hold on… Ok, now lower us down.” Eddie complies. Colin looks him in the eyes and says, “Come on muscles, show us what you got. This can’t be it.” Eddie laughs at the challenge, leans back, and bucks his hips. Ian is now firmly mounted and moaning happily. He looks Colin in the eye and brings his right arm into a full bicep flex and puts it right next to Colin’s face. Colin moves his left hand from Eddie’s neck and puts it on the bicep from the backside of it and starts to massage the muscle and squeeze it. Eddie laughs and says, “Hold your horses little man, I’m not done yet.” And with that he releases his other hand from Ian’s ass and brings it up and does a full double bicep pose. Colin is amazed. He moves his right hand to Eddie’s left bicep and starts a dual massage and squeeze fest. Eddie laughs again, and says, “Come on G2, I thought with all our workout sessions, you would have developed some strength by now. Come on, squeeze those biceps like your life depended on it.” Colin starts putting all his strength into squeezing them. “Hey, I can just barely feel you now.” Eddie taunts him. Eddie then moves in for a kiss and continues to hold the pose. He bucks his hips to make sure Ian is still alive. With the motion, Ian moans again and puts his arms around Colin’s neck so he doesn’t fall off to a side. “Yeah, I bet that feels good back there.” Eddie says. Ian moans again in agreement. He is sweating profusely, and not just because they are in the sauna. The feel of his dick in his twin and of Eddie’s in ass is driving him to new highs. He starts to grind his ass back into Eddie’s hips and pulls Colin down with him. When he tries to push up, he finds that Colin’s added weight makes it damn near impossible. He tries again and Eddie says, “Need some help back there G1?” “Yeah, some.” Ian gurgles out. “Ok, hold on.” Eddie looks at Colin and says, ‘”This is your stop, time to get off and wait for the next ride.” He lifts Colin up, off Ian’s dick, and sets him on the bench. “Now don’t go anywhere. Here you can still play around with this.” As he flexes his right arm. Colin’s eyes go wide and he latches his lips onto the bicep and starts slathering it with saliva. “Good boy.” Eddie turns his attention to Ian, “Better?” “Much, thanks.” “No problem. You sure you’re ready? This is going to make the first time look a Sunday stroll.” Eddie says as he puts his left hand back under Ian’s ass. “Bring it muscles.” Ian says mockingly and moves in for a kiss. Eddie meets him half way and uses his hand to lift Ian up and down his dick. Ian wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck and locks his legs around his waist. Eddie starts to raise and lower his hips in a nice slow motion. Ian gets moving with him. They’re undulating and kissing and moaning into each other’s mouths. Colin takes him mouth off of Eddie’s arm and moves around behind him. With his second arm free, Eddie places it on Ian’s other ass cheek and is now free to raise and lower him as he pleases. He flexes his biceps, lifts Ian up, off his dick, and brings Ian’s dick up to his mouth. He swallows it to the hilt in one fluid motion. Ian puts his arms on Eddie’s shoulders and head to steady himself. Eddie easily moves him back and forth, in and out of his mouth. “Hmm, nice flow of pre-cum G1. How about we see if I can get you to blow your load down my throat?” He engulfs the dick and pulls Ian as close to his body as possible. His nose is against Ian’s lower abs, his tongue is lapping at his dick, and he moves his right hand back to Ian’s ass and inserts 3 fingers and moves them around like they belong in there. Ian lets out a guttural roar and tries not to cum, but Eddie is stepping up his game. He moves a forth finger into his ass and is moving his mouth and lips with incredible speed and pressure. Ian is in heaven. Eddie swallows him one last time, sucks on the dick like he’s an industrial strength vacuum cleaner and pushes his thumb into Ian’s ass. Ian’s load explodes out of him with such force Eddie’s mouth is pushed back a few millimeters. He’s impressed and continues sucking. He removes his fingers from Ian’s ass and gently cups his ass cheeks. The next three shots follow the first one down his throat. He slowly moves Ian’s dick from his mouth, licking off and remaining cum. Ian passes out and practically falls over Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie chuckles and lifts him up by the waist and sets him down on the sauna bench. Colin scoots over to make sure Ian is ok. He is. He looks up at Eddie with partial fear and partial anticipation. Eddies dick is level with his mouth. He rips off the condom, engulfs it, and starts to work on it. Colin has never seen a dick so veiny and thick. He puts both hands on it, trying to encircle, but cannot. Eddie just laughs and flexes his dick. Colin is lifted up. He holds on and Eddie raises and lowers him a few more times. Colin lets go and stands up. He moves closely to Eddie and leans up for a kiss. Eddie puts his left hand behind Colin and pulls him close, enjoying the kiss. He cups Colin’s ass and lifts him up so they are at eye level. He pulls his right arm into a flex and moves it into Colin’s view. Colin sees it, but is no longer interested. He’s into the kissing and is trying to devastate Eddie’s mouth and tongue. Eddie is playing along, having some fun. He lowers his right arm, swings it around and inserts 3 fingers into Colin’s ass, like he did to Ian. He finds Colin is looser and opens easily for him. He smiles to himself. Should have started with this one. He backs up, sits on the bench, and grabs a condom and some more lube. With Colin sitting on his lap, it is easy for him to put on the condom, lube up, and then move Colin’s hole into position. He inserts his dick with a steady motion, careful not to push too hard. Colin is grimacing, but taking the rod slowly. Eddie moves up close to Colin’s left ear and uses his tongue to massage the earlobe. Colin sighs and slides down his dick a bit. “Just another few inches G2. You can do it.” “Dude, you’re shoving a fucking 2x4 into my ass.” “Try 4x4” Eddie laughs. Eddie turns Colin’s head bit more and sticks his wetted tongue right into his ear and laps at the inner ear. Colin starts to squirm and the rest of Eddie’s unit slides in. Eddie moves his left arm up a bit and pulls Colin a bit closer to him. He stands up, bucks his hips, and wedges the final bit of his dick into Colin’s ass. Colin is very still, getting used to the feeling. Eddie is patient. When Colin starts to wiggle his hips, Eddie knows he can start moving him up and down. He moves more slowly, deliberately, making each thrust count. Colin has an arm around his neck and one on Eddie’s bicep. Eddie has a hand on Colin’s ass and puts his other hand on his dick and starts to jerk him off, nice and slow, with movements matching his thrusting. Colin is in heaven based on the look on his face, which is flushed and covered with sweat. After 5 minutes of this, Colin is starting to tense up, which Eddie recognizes as he’s about to blow. He quickly lifts him off his dick and swallows Colin’s dick, just like he did to Ian. Eddie does a couple quick in and out movements and sucks on Colin’s dick like he wants to suck it right off his body. Colin is so close. He puts both arms around Eddie’s head and tries to pull him even closer, so more of his dick is in his mouth. The dam breaks, Colin screams and releases his load directly into Eddie’s throat. Eddie gulps 4 times and the load is done. Colin tries to pull his dick out of Eddie’s mouth, but he continues to suck, trying to get anything left in Colin’s dick out. Once Eddie realizes the last drops have been swallowed, he lets the dick slip from his lips, but he encircles the mushroom head and rakes his teeth on it a few times. Colin shutters and releases another smaller load. Eddie grins and he slurps it down. He finally releases the dick and says, “I knew you had more in you. I just had to coax it out.” Colin looks down, smiles, and asks. “You need any help with yours.” Glancing down at Eddie still rock hard dick. “Eh, sure. How about this.” And he slides his unit between Colin’s legs and begins to flex it again. Colin grabs onto to Eddie’s arms to make sure he is not bounced off. Eddie grabs Colin’s waist and just slides him back and forth along the length of his unit with ease, like he is using a washcloth to clean it off. Colin twist his lower legs together, creating a tighter seal for Eddie’s unit to slide thru. Eddie appreciates the new tightness and leans down to kiss Colin. They are kissing when Eddie sense his load is near. He picks up the pace and Colin is rocketing back and forth along the length. Eddie peaks and brings Colin as close to his body as possible and lets his load explode out of him. The first two volleys hit the far side of the sauna. The third one coasts the floor. The last one dribbles down and creates a puddle. Eddie is still rock hard, but can tell the boys are done for the night. He lifts Colin off and gently sets him next to Ian, who is just regaining consciousness. Eddie quickly picks up all the towels and supplies, leans over and gets one twin in each arm, and picks them up. They exit the sauna sideways and Eddie heads for the shower area. Ty, who is cleaning up, sees them coming and says to Eddie, “There had better not be a big mess in there or your ass is mine. Also, are they still alive?” Eddie replies, “Jeez Ty, give me some credit.” Ty just stares at him. Eddie smiles and says, “Yeah, they’re still alive, but sauna may need a good scrubbing down. Have Kenny or Stu do it, they love shit like that and just add it to my bill.” Ty just shakes his head again. “Get them home safely.” “Yes, sir.” Eddie mocks him. He gets into the locker room, sets the guys down on a bench and squats in front of them. “G1, G2, you guys still with me?” They mumble back, “yeah.” “Did you have fun?” “Not really.” G2 says with a big smirk on his face. “I was expecting more muscle.” Eddie leans his head back and lets a roar escape him. “Next time little men, next time.” And he pats both guys on the shoulders.
  22. hoola

    Don't Stop: Parts 8+9

    Hey everyone, sorry again for the delay, but work is crazy. Anyway, enjoy! Parts 1+2+3: https://muscle-growt...stop-parts-1-3/ Parts 4+5: https://muscle-growt...-stop-parts-45/ Parts 6+7: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7460-dont-stop-parts-67/ PART 8: The next morning began as the previous few mornings had for Andrew. He woke up, noticed he had a huge raging erection, and went to the bathroom to take care of it. This morning, he was happily surprised to once again find that he had changed dramatically since the day before. He had a really full beard now. It was luscious, thick and was already about a quarter inch long in most places. He looked like he was well on his way to becoming a lumberjack in just a day or two. However, even under the layers of facial hair he could tell that his face was more angular and cut than before. Continuing down his body, he could see tufts of chest hair poking out of the top of his shirt. Quickly tearing off his shirt he found a veritable forest of chest hair leading to a dense covering of hair on his new eight pack abs. He could tell that his legs were much hairier too now. “I must be the hairiest Asian on campus now,” Andrew though proudly. By the increased hair wasn’t the only change Andrew found. It appeared to him that his workout had paid off handsomely because he was not only ripped, he was enormous. He was at least six feet tall now with huge tree trunks for legs. He could see massive calf muscles pushing out from his lower leg in a perfect diamond cut formation. Above them were huge quads and hamstrings that had gotten so big there was no longer a gap between his legs. His muscles were so big that they made his legs touch each other while standing up normally. Another effect of his massive quads was that his dick and balls were pushed a little bit out from his body making them look even larger than they already were. His cock had to be at least eight or nine inches long (confirmed to be 8.75 inches by Andrew’s handy ruler) and was as hard as steel. His balls meanwhile were each as large as a tangerine and churning with huge loads of semen. He needed to ejaculate soon or else they would swell so much it would start being painful. As much as he wanted to get off on his new physique, there were still areas of his body that he had not explored yet. His abs were like a cobblestone path carved into his stomach, and flexing them and unflexing them made Andrew realize that he could easily stop a gut punch with his abs of iron easily. His pecs looked absolutely swollen with new muscle. The massive fleshy pillows were so big now that his nipples hung straight down. He looked like he could bench press 400lbs easily now. However, despite all of his other fantastic muscles, the greatest was yet to come. His arms looked like they were at least 20 inches around now. Crazy veins snaked their way lazily across the top of his massive peaked biceps while his triceps hung pendulously from the back of his upper arms. His forearms were huge too (probably from jerking off so much). All in all, Andrew looked like a professional bodybuilder, and right then and there he vowed to enter a competition as soon as possible. However, Andrew was becoming a little nervous now. His body was really fucking amazing, but he was worried he was losing sight of what had truly mattered to him. He hadn’t gone to class at all the previous day and instead had spent his time furiously masturbating, working out, and having a marathon of sex with Nicole. The more he thought about his situation though, the more he realized that he liked what he had become, what he was becoming, and what he was about to become. His muscles were so sexy and powerful he felt like he could do whatever he wanted. So, he went back to the bedroom, erection swinging straight out from his body, gently woke Nicole up, and started having the best sex of his life. After his third orgasm in as many minutes, Andrew rolled off of Nicole and noticed that her chap stick had fallen out of her bag. “Hmm, I don’t recognize this brand,” Andrew thought as he put on some of the chap stick on his lips. He noticed a weird tingly feeling on his lips after the application, but he chalked it up to it being an intense mint flavor. He absentmindedly pocketed the chap stick before heading out to class. PART 9: Andrew found that his mouth was getting really dry during class all day. He couldn’t stop staring at all of the hot girls who would have been way far out of his league the previous week, but now were well within reach. He felt tormented by these adulterous thoughts, but the girls were hooked on his new physique. They would blow him little kisses and wink seductively at him, and in response to his rapidly drying mouth he would put on chapstick at least twice every hour. None of this was helping get rid of the erection he had maintained all day since having tantric sex with Nicole that morning. He felt the urge to sneak off the bathroom between every class to masturbate, and even struggled to limit himself to one orgasm. Finally he was done with classes for the day, so he ran to the gym as fast as he could. He could feel his thighs chaffing against each other a little bit as his legs swelled with blood, getting pumped and swollen from just a few short minutes of cardio. As soon as he was done changing in the locker room (where all of the guys were amazed by Andrew’s flaccid dick which was longer than almost all of their dicks hard), he hit the weights. Something immediately felt different to Andrew. As soon as he began his first bench press he could feel an intensity in his entire body that filled him with euphoria. His now 9.5 inch cock instantly hardened and lengthened a bit more filling the front of his gym shorts with an obscene bulge. Every lift he did filled him with euphoria and made him feel like he was about to burst through his own skin. He could feel his muscle growing with each curl, each squat, each press. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore except that it felt fucking incredible and that he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. A sizeable crowd had gathered around him including several of the girls and guys who had been eying his physique all day long. They couldn’t take their eyes off of his bulge and bulging muscles, and a few were becoming noticeably aroused right there in the middle of the weight room. Eventually one of them, a cute black girl sauntered up to Andrew and sat on his lap as he was bench pressing. His dick instantly went into overdrive as he shot load after load into his gym pants. He never stopped lifting during his orgasm, and the crowd gasped as they notices his pecs and arms swell larger and larger with each rep and cum shot. Just as he was about to stop shooting his tank top ripped right off his chest as his confined pecs burst through the fabric. Andrew was an animal. He knew that he loved Nicole, but his sex drive was amped up way too high to ignore all of his waiting admirers. He picked the black girl off of his lap and carried her on his shoulders to the private shower stalls where he fucked her brains out. Andrew was becoming more and more aware of the fact that something weird was happening to his body, but so far all he had surmised was that each time he came he would get bigger, and not just his muscles. He could feel his dick expanding with each orgasm. It wasn’t much each time, but with the way he had been cumming the past few days, he was on his way to having the biggest dick of all time. He didn’t want this growth to ever stop.
  23. londonboy

    Never Underestimate Muscles

    I reached over and dug my thick, strong fingers slowly into the concrete – making sure the sound was loud enough to frighten the group of guys standing in front of me. They watched – amazed, scared shitless, and I’m sure a little turned on – as I forced my hands down into the cement at the base of the three story building beside me. I was standing at the corner of the structure – having caught them in a dead-end alley. They had run like hell after I picked up an SUV and tossed it into the air out of sight and then easily caught it when it came barreling back to earth. I loved it best when other guys provoked a fight – thinking my muscles were just for show. The thrill also came from shocking the crap out of cocky guys who figured they were going to dispose of me easily. And when it was a group of five or more – like tonight – well; that just got me more excited. The sound of a building being ripped apart can be pretty intense – who would’ve known. I watched, along with my captive foes, as cracks shot up the side of the building far above where my hands were doing their destruction. Suddenly, a humongous chunk of the building – concrete, girders, sheetrock and more came ripping away in my hands. I was easily lifting a massive corner of a building. “Fuck, I’d say this is a good two tons or more, fellas. Look how easy it is for me to hold this giant chunk of concrete and steel above my head. Here, catch!” I acted like I was going to toss the entire slab of an abandoned warehouse in their direction. The five of them screamed loudly, crouched down, and covered their heads. I threw the heavy thing up in the air slightly and then caught it again, laughing hard at their reaction. “Scared the shit out of you boys, didn’t I? Oh, you certainly decided to pick on the wrong dude, tonight, guys. Maybe I should just set this pile of debris on your bodies slowly – just to hear the sound of you being crushed by the weight. Yeah, that might be fun. Almost as much fun as watching you five run away at full speed and I simply had to skip a little to catch up with you. You should have seen the looks on your faces when you noticed I was standing in front of you. I could have gotten here so much sooner than you that I could have ordered and finished a pizza by the time you arrived. But we’ll save that for another time. Right now, let’s have some fun with this chunk of building. How about a little rock and sand shower, fellas?” I, again, tossed the heap of demolished warehouse into the air and then swung my super strong arm upward, punching the chunk of concrete and steel with my powerful fist. Instantly the entire thing shattered into millions of tiny piece of rock, steel, and sand – showering all of us with something that felt like a rain. I was impressed with my own abilities – and then I noticed that each guy was cowering with their eyes shut. As they felt the dust like debris hitting them they opened their eyes and were immediately amazed at what I had done. “Hey, big dude, we’re really sorry we bothered you. Why don’t you just let us go?” It was the leader of the troop speaking. He had been the one that had requested I hand over my wallet and watch when they had first approached me. I had simply said no and he had told me that my answer was incorrect and that I would be sorry for it. I could hear the fear in his voice now, though, as he pleaded with me for their release. He was trying to act all butch for his little gang, but it was clear to me that I scared the bee-Jesus out of him. “Let you go. Why would I do that? Did you even give me an option when you demanded I hand over to you my personal belongings? Did it even cross your mind to be gentle with me when your thugs here smacked me on the head with wine bottles and beat me with lead pipes? Granted, the bottles shattered and the bars were bent senseless against my body - but you didn’t know that when you attacked, now did you? No, little pathetic men, I’m not going to let you go. I’ll tell you right now that I’m not going to kill you – well, unless it happens by accident, sometimes I don’t know my own strength – but I am going to have a lot of fun with each and every one of you. Your little attempted mugging has given me permission to use your little bodies as my playthings. I am so in the mood for scaring the shit out of some supposed macho dudes and you fit the bill perfectly. You’re all in such deep trouble and you don’t even know it. There’s no limit to the things I can come up with to wreck havoc on all of you. You see, little men, I’m stronger than Superman – and he’s a fictional character – I could beat his ass easily. If I took a deep breath and exhaled I could blow the five of you through that building and easily send you through five blocks of buildings, but that’s not my style. I like it nice and slow – to see how freaked out each of you get.” It was wild how quickly each man grasped that I could do all the things I said. I could smell the fear permeating from each of them. I know it sounds cruel and some people would want me to lose somehow, but those people didn’t realize how these five had terrorized the neighborhood for a long while. I had watched and learned. I knew everything about them. They didn’t care who they hurt – elderly women, young kids, but their favorite targets were gay guys. I’m sure some therapist would have had a field day as to why they acted this way, but it didn’t matter at the time. It was just the moment when they needed to learn a lesson. They were going to jail, of course, but not before I had a lot of fun with each of them first. “Listen, big man, how much money do you want to let us go. I can get you anything you want. I’ve got about ten thousand on me right now. Just name your price.” “Money? You just don’t get it do you, asshole? I could rip a fucking ATM out of the wall and then easily pull it in two to get any amount of money I cared to have, but that’s not what I want. You can’t buy me, dude. I just want to play with you and your little gang until I’ve satisfied my muscle itch. Tearing out a chunk of building is pretty easy for me, man. That was like a little appetizer and I’m hoping to have a few more appetizers before I go home. Here, let me again show you what I mean.” I placed one of my big hands on the side of a large metal dumpster near us. I then started pressing in. Because of the width of my hand and the power in my arm the entire side of the metal frame started caving in. It was like I was shoving in a flimsy cardboard box. The huge dumpster basically gave me no resistance. I compacted the thing into something as narrow as ironing board – the piece of junk barely standing upright on its wheels. The screeching of metal was glorious to hear – causing all of the men to get even more frightened, which had been my goal. “Little dude, I just smashed a dumpster into something as thin as your scrawny body. Damn, that felt good. Did you hear how that metal screamed as I crushed the shit out of it? Imagine the noise you’d make if I did that to your chest. Look at my big paw print in the middle of that piece of junk. I guess you guys have picked up that I’m a super man that doesn’t have any inner turmoil about my incredible strength. Nope, no conflicted self-esteem here, fellas. I love being freakishly powerful. As a matter of fact it excites me to no end to show off my superior abilities. Watching you guys nearly pass out from seeing me do amazing things is like really good foreplay. Demolishing a dumpster is really cool and everything, but it’s when I use my strength against guys that think they’re tough, but they’re really just pathetic weaklings, that I get most excited. Here, let’s do a little bowling without a ball.” My big fist flew into the air and then came pummeling down into the ground with tremendous force. As soon as my fingers connected with the asphalt below the entire block shook ferociously. Giant cracks zig-zagged all over the area and all five guys instantly fell to the ground. Everything rumbled for a good forty-five seconds and the small guys couldn’t keep their balance for anything. I noticed my fist was sunk about a foot into the alley floor. “What’s the matter fellas, a little muscle man tremor made you fall down and go boom? Damn, that’s still super fun to do. I wonder if I could actually make a few buildings fall down if I hit even harder. That would be awesome. Maybe I could make that big wall behind crumble down on top of you. Would you like to see that, little men?” I knew I was being obnoxious, but I couldn’t help it. I was too jacked-up by my own strength. This happened every now and then – I just needed a night of going crazy with my power and talking smack with some cocky thugs. Wrapping thick metal bars around their bodies, tossing them to the top of streetlights, crushing the roof of their car down so they were pinned inside and stuff like that just seemed to give me a muscle fix for a few weeks. Watching them turn all bug-eyed when I did something super spectacular, which was actually something really simple for me, was just too much fun to pass up. Their legs right now didn’t know whether the ground was still shaking from my powerful punch or from their fear. It was like when you got off a boat and still felt the ocean motion for a few hours. They were all standing again, but they were a-wobbling. There was just something about watching the fear level in them rise that got me so turned on. I knew I could take on a thousand men and still only use a fraction of my strength, but having a small group like this made it easier for me to enjoy their reactions. I could sense how panicked they were becoming and that only fueled me on even more. “Who wants to be twisted like a corkscrew, fellas? Come on, don’t be shy. I’d like to grab one of you by the feet and head and just start wringing you out like a wet dishcloth. What? No takers. Okay, we’ll just have to find something else to do. How about a little batting practice?” I walked over and grabbed a discarded ancient radiator that was leaning against a wall in the alley. I casually started compressing the thing in on itself as I walked back, not even realizing I was squeezing the shit out of thick heavy metal. I just needed something to make a ball out of and it was the closest thing. It took me no time at all to demolish the steel contraption and re-shape it into a round mass of junk. Again, the sound of something so indestructible being easily manhandled made the alleyway reverberate with screeching noises mixed in with gasps from the puny onlookers. It barely registered that I was doing something powerful – I was too busy looking for a bat. I finally noticed a thick water pipe running along the outside one of the buildings about twenty feet above on the wall. I easily jumped up, grabbed the metal tubing and wrenched it from the wall, snapping a big piece of it off as I came back down to earth. My hand had merely squished one end and ripped it apart – as if it were just a stick of licorice. I then yanked the other end from where it was bolted into another pipe – as easily as pulling a Kleenex from box. My ‘bat’ was about ten feet long and as thick as a big man’s thigh. The radiator was now the size of a bowling ball and I made it look as light as a feather as I tossed it up and down on my big palm. Setting up my little muscle-made ball game had taken about two minutes and the small crowd in front of me was frozen in awe. Shit, I loved it when grown men were so stunned that they couldn’t move – barely even able to take a breath. The leader of the group somehow was still able to speak. “You must be from the devil.” “Or maybe I’m an angel. Either way, I’m strong as hell. I’d duck if I were you, little fellas. I’m about to hit a homerun.” I gave them little warning, but they could clearly see what I intended to do. They all hit the ground faster than a speeding bullet. Each of them, however, did not take their eyes off of me. I tossed the compacted radiator into the air and swung the big pipe back a little. With most of my strength I brought the steel tube barreling forward and when it connected with the dropping radiator there was a boom that sounded like a small explosion. Immediately the superman-made ball rocketed forward and took a huge chunk out of the wall behind the men. It continued to shoot through multiple walls of the building across from me, shot out the other side, and then powered through three or four other structures in its way. It was too dark to actually see how far the thing travelled, but I had a feeling it was lodged in something about ten blocks away. My muscles were on fire with pleasure. I loved how powerful I looked from such a simple action. I had knocked holes through maybe a hundred walls with just one strong whack from my big arms. I desperately needed to intimidate the cowering men a little more. I reached up, grabbed the front of my shirt, and ripped it off my body with one solid yank. The sucking in of air and gasps from my captured group pleased me to no end. I decided to up the ante a little more and I forced my body to start sweating. I hadn’t exerted enough energy to perspire, but I knew I could simply will big beads of salty water to break out all over my arms and chest. I figured it would enhance the beauty for my forced followers. They deserved to see my bulging muscles shining in the soft glare of the streetlights. The reaction on their faces was priceless. They seemed to finally grasp just how powerful I was, now that they were able to see all of my enormous hard mounds clearly. As they each stood back up I saw a mixture of lust and fear – just the kind of look that got my motor running. I decided it was time to toy with them directly – something that always thrilled me even more. “Hey Mr. Leader-Man, I think I’ll give you a ringside seat for a little action. We’ll save you for later on. You’ll enjoy the show from the nosebleed section as I take care of the rest of your gang.” I held the metal pipe over my head an easily bent it into a ‘u’ shape. I then caught the group’s leader in the curved part of the thing and pulled him towards me. I spun the bent tube around him so the two ends were pointing out beyond his back. I then twisted the two ends together – capturing his arms against his body and tightening it so much that he was trapped securely. I left him room to breathe, but there was no way he was escaping until I untwisted the thing. He cried out a little when I lifted him off the round and put the twisted ends of the pipe against a wall. I pushed in and loved how the pipe just shoved its way into concrete. I basically created a giant eyehook and slammed the guy about eight feet off the ground – so he could watch what was coming next. “Shit, little dude, it’s going to take some heavy machinery to finally get you out of my little contraption. It was nothing for me to wrap that big pipe around your body and then slam you into the wall. You’re like a little alley decoration. I think, later on, I’ll do the same with all of your little gang – just to freak the police out when they come. They’ll have no idea what could have put all of you in this fun little prison and they’ll never believe it when you say it was some guy. Damn, look at what my power can do – your legs are just dangling way above the ground and you can’t move at all. Oh, I’m good . . . real good. Now for some real fun. Hey, leader man, choose one of your little minions here to come over and punch me in the face. I want to show you what true power is.” Every man seemed to immediately cower – each hoping to disappear into the wall behind him. Even the ringleader was unusually quiet. I waited patiently, forcing myself to sweat a little more and tensing all of my muscles just to help the intimidation factor to increase. The silence seemed to frighten everyone even more. I loved how I could scare smaller men without even doing a fucking thing. It was clear they all now knew what my muscles could do. They had underestimated me and that’s exactly what I had wanted. Now they feared me more than anything – god, what a rush that was. I glared at the men and finally let my gaze shift upward to the boss-man hanging defenseless from the wall. He looked petrified. I growled when I spoke – just to jack up the intensity even more. “Choose one of them, little man!” “Zeke, take your best shot.” I smiled. The leader had spoken and a rather large guy stepped sheepishly forward. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed him before. He was actually a big dude. It was going to be fun not feeling his punch at all. I felt a little sorry for the pain m chin was going to cause his hand. He came a little closer and I loved how powerful his forearms looked. Damn, it was going to be awesome overpowering this dude. Zeke rolled up his sleeve a little and then pulled his arm back. Suddenly, my body was flying through the air and I was knocking down walls as I traveled through seven consecutive buildings landing a couple of blocks away. It took me a second to register what had happened. My cock shot instantly hard and I actually felt a little pain in my chin. I sat up and glanced back through the holes in the walls between Zeke and me. I saw the big man smiling from afar and realized the dude must be strong like me. This excited and challenged me at the same time. I shook the debris off of my sweaty body and thought, “Fuck, this is going to be great!” I leapt off the ground and zoomed toward the big man, rocketing back through the holes my huge body had made. Zeke, however, had anticipated this and had grabbed the end of the dumpster I had crushed. He swung hard as soon as I got within hitting range and he sent my body flying into the air. I felt like a baseball being hit out of the ballpark. I landed with a thud about a half a mile away – tearing up a large chunk of the ground when I landed. The pain was minimal and it was also intoxicating. Since I had never met anyone that could even dream of challenging me it was thrilling to realize I was going to be able to let go with all of my power on this guy. I could feel my juices hitting their boiling point just from the anticipation of fighting someone as strong as me. God, I was pretty sure I was going to explode way before the fight was over. Super-power fighting was going to be better than sex – I just knew it. I easily leapt back to the alleyway, just in time to see Zeke lowering the ringleader from the wall and easily unbending the mangled pipe I had wrapped around the guy. The sight of him undoing my handiwork made me very happy. Everyone felt the ground shake when I landed. I think they were also pretty impressed with the crater I created in the asphalt. There was a moment of mutual appreciation between Zeke and me. I knew he was feeling all the same emotions and desires as I was – but he was also a foe. “Surprised the shit out of you, didn’t we big man?” said the ringleader. “You see, all of this wasn’t by accident. We’ve been watching your handiwork for months – just biding our time for when we could get you alone and have Zeke, here, teach you a lesson. He did a good job of hiding his super powers, didn’t he? Zeke’s a strong boy, but sometimes he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed – kind of like you musclehead. If you had been on the top of your game you might have anticipated our little plan, but you just like showing off too much. It is going to be fun watching you suffer, dude. Earthquake, Zeke!” The big man copied my action from earlier and punched the ground as hard as he could. I immediately fell to my knees because of the shaking. The wall of the building behind me crumbled down on top of me. It wasn’t like the huge chunks of concrete and steel hurt me in any way, but it was kind of obnoxious to be buried in the rubble. The magnitude of the shock gave me an unanticipated thrill. I loved the fact that big Zeke could do that. Man, it was awesome knowing there was another guy like me. I had been careful all my life – always being told stuff like “You can’t play hard, you’ll hurt the other boys,” or “Don’t use so much strength when you shake hands - you tend to break bones.” I got the distinct feeling that I had met someone who could take the brunt of my full power – and that thought excited me beyond my wildest dreams. It had never crossed my mind that I would have a capable adversary, so I just always filled my playtime by showing off my strength with smaller and weaker men. The idea that Zeke was going to be able to match me muscle for muscle made my heart and my cock swell. I used my powerful legs to blast from the pile of destroyed wall and pummeled into Zeke’s chest with both of my fists. It seemed like the dude had actually thought the debris would keep me down and I caught him off guard. I sent his body flying – easily taking out two light poles and a US mailbox down street on the corner. I also heard the air get knocked out of him. When he stood up I could see that he was smiling at me. This was thrilling him, too. There was a small Volkswagen Bug parked on the side of the road at the end of the alley and he easily hoisted the thing in the air and sent it flying at me with so much speed I barely had time to jump out of the way. With a loud bang the thing got lodged in the thick concrete wall behind me – about six feet off the ground. I got goose bumps all over my body when I looked at the destroyed vehicle sticking out from the building. Zeke definitely had some power in him – maybe even strength that rivaled mine. I thought about him making pretzels out of steel girders, punching busses so hard that they slid miles down the highway, crushing big boulders between his forearm and biceps, and stuff like that. I was so energized by our little confrontation I didn’t realize how much he was turning me on. Suddenly the big guy was in front of me, but I had anticipated his move and had already dug my hand into the bottom of the Volkswagen. With one huge tug I yanked the vehicle from the wall and arched it in the air as I swung my arm. I brought the roof of the car down on Zeke’s head and watched – thrilled beyond belief – as his body stayed stiff and tall – easily bursting through the top and bottom of the car. The guy’s frame literally poked a hole through the tiny Bug like it was a piece of paper. I used so much force that the car was flattened as soon as it hit the pavement, but Zeke still stood in his place – his hair maybe got messed up a little, but that was all. Ripping through the vehicle had also caused his shirt to be torn from his body. I felt myself immediately start to leak a little pre-cum when I gazed at the man’s unclothed muscular torso. We were so alike in our hugeness. The dude’s body was bulging in all the same places. And the big smile across his face was so familiar – it was just like the one that would bust out across my own mug when I would do something powerful. We were like twins separated at birth. We also clearly understood each other in a way that no one else could possibly comprehend. Suddenly the big man was right in front of me and his huge arms wrapped around my arms and torso in a crushing bear hug. I was able to get my own arms around his thick mid-section and started squeezing at the same time. We were two giants engaged in a power grip-off, knowing full well that neither of us could win. As I squeezed the dude with all my might I was overcome with admiration. “I’ve never met a man as strong as me, Zeke.” “I was thinking the same thing.” “I can usually crush a four foot thick concrete pillar with less pressure than I’m using on you now.” “And I usually snap oak trees in two with lighter squeezes.” “Speaking of oak trees, Zeke, it feels like something that big is turning hard between your powerful thighs.” “It only matches that third leg of yours that’s bulging against my crotch, big man.” “I’m so fucking turned on by your strength, dude.” “I’ve been raging hard ever since you ripped out that huge chunk of building earlier. That was awesome.” “Imagine us tearing down an entire city block just from foreplay, Zeke.” “Oh shit, man, you gotta shut up or I’m going to explode.” I brought my face into his and we kissed like two savage beasts tearing into one another. We were still squeezing the crap out of each other, but now it was just loving, super-strong hugs. I had never been kissed like that before – so manly and so powerful. If I had smashed my face into some little guy with that much force I would have crushed every bone, but it felt like a strong tickle to Zeke. Our stubbly beards rubbed together like thick sandpaper and that turned me on even more. The ringleader, however, was not amused. He was standing nearby with the other guys and it was clear he was disgusted. As he spoke we didn’t stop kissing. “Zeke, stop it right now! What are you doing – going soft on me? Has this asshole converted you or something? Seriously, dude, stop sucking face right now. You disgust the…” The asshole didn’t get to finish the sentence. Zeke, without any warning, backhanded the dude and his other cronies with enough force to send them flying into the brick wall a few feet away. My big make-out partner didn’t use enough force to hurt the guys too much, he just wanted to make sure they all went nighty-night and he succeeded. They slammed up against wall, stayed stuck there for a few seconds from the might behind the blow, and then slid down to the ground – out cold. I watched out of the corner of my eye – mainly because it turned me on so much. I noticed Zeke was doing the same thing. Our kiss intensified once the little men were just a pile of unconscious bodies on the ground. I pulled my face back from his. “Impressive.” “I did it to please you.” “And to shut him up.” “Well, that too.” “What should we do with them?” “I have an idea. Go get something heavy. Let’s put the trash where it belongs.” I immediately knew what he planned on doing. I walked up the alley to the main road while Zeke easily gathered the four knocked-out bodies in his strong arms and started heading over to a dumpster that hadn’t been demolished by me. He tossed the four dudes in with the trash and then pulled the top down with a loud bang. When he turned around he smiled, because I was walking up with a Ford Explorer hefted over my head with just one arm. I loved how the feat impressed him. “Much better than a Volkswagen.” “Heavier, that’s for sure. Still, I loved seeing your body burst through the car like it was nothing.” “Anything to make you happy, big man.” I felt a jolt of power shoot to my crotch from his comment. I was like a schoolgirl with a new crush. I placed the huge SUV on top of the dumpster, making sure the tires wedged the thing on so it wouldn’t slide off. Zeke actually pushed on the tires and made the axle bend in – just to make the fit even tighter. I followed suit with the front tires while he did the other rear one. When we were done he thought it would be fun to explain. “This way, it will take longer for the rescuers to get the car off. Just knowing that gives me a little more pleasure. “Nice. Speaking of pleasure, I think I’d like to take out a couple of walls with a super ejaculation. How about you?” “I thought you’d never ask. I think it’d be fun to blast away the roof and walls of this abandoned warehouse. You game?” “Lead on, monster Zeke, lead on.”
  24. dw2098lj

    The Car Salesman - Chapter 1

    This is the first story I've posted so go easy on me! It takes a while to get going but hopefully you'll enjoy it - I've got a few ideas to take this further The Car Salesman It was the worst possible timing. Two weeks into my new job and a month before Christmas my decrepit car had breathed its last. The stupid worthless piece of shit, which had caused me endless pain over the last 2 years, had finally given up on life. It was for this reason that I was making my way across the showroom forecourt for my meeting with Karl, the car salesman. I had an increasing sense of nervousness as I got towards the door which in my mind was entirely justified. You see, I am of the opinion that Car Salesmen will occupy the same part of hell as estate agents and lawyers and I was fully expecting to spend the next 2 hours being lied to, tricked and conned out of my hard-earned money. These thoughts were broken by the sight of the man-mountain waiting for me in the doorway. It turned out that Karl was about 6’2 and built like a tank, with I guessed way over 250lb of solid muscle to his name. He was wearing a long-sleeve tight white shirt with an accompanying tie and equally skin-tight dark blue trousers. Great. A gym-obsessed arrogant bastard as well. I could feel my stress level rising even more. “You must be Joe,” he called loudly, when I was about 10 feet away, smiling broadly. I took in his masculine face, dark hair and lightly tanned skin. He must have been a couple (or more) years younger than me, maybe mid-20s. “Y-yes, that’s me,” I replied stupidly, immediately cross with myself for showing any sign of weakness in front of this overconfident gym-jock. He reached out his hand and I shook it, trying not to wince at the strength of his grip. I noticed that his huge manly hand completely engulfed my own and I could feel the callouses on his palm from the many hours he spent lifting weights. “Come on in, we’ll get started,” he said, finally letting go of my aching hand as he turned to lead me into the building. I followed behind, noticing how wide his back was, pulling his tight shirt to the limits, but tapering down to an impossibly small waist. I was irrationally irritated, never having been interested in lifting weights myself, and always slightly annoyed with people who did. I just didn’t get it. Travelling in Karl’s wake, I was also struck by the scent coming off him. It was oddly sweet, nutty but undeniably masculine, likely a combination of aftershave and his own natural smell. I pulled myself back from the brink. Why the fuck was I noticing these things?! Once inside Karl’s spacious office, I settled myself in the comfy chair in front of his desk and watched as he walked round to sit opposite me. I found my eyes tracing down from his chiselled jaw-line, a slight hint of 5 O’clock shadow there, to his huge neck. The muscles there (traps, I heard the distant voice of my A-level Biology teacher saying) pushed out the buttoned up collar of his shirt to an extreme. It was a wonder he managed to do the buttons up at all. I then took in his unbelievably wide shoulders before focussing on his chest. His pecs jutted out from his body, pulling the fabric of his shirt tight so that there were gaps between the buttons in the middle. I could see a glimpse of smooth tanned skin underneath. As Karl moved and gestured his muscles flexed and relaxed under the surface of his clothes, like an elaborate dance played out for me. It was hypnotising watching his biceps pull the sleeves of his shirt tight, desperate to break free with every movement. Suddenly I realised that Karl was talking (well of course he was) and probably had been for some time. What the fuck was I thinking? I’d not listened to a word he’d said for a good 5 minutes. I tried to drag myself back to the present, away from my thoughts about this gym-rats bulging muscles when I noticed something even stranger than my distraction. I was rock-hard. My not-unimpressive cock was aching painfully in my tight jeans, throbbing with lust. Now I was properly confused. Well, a bit more than that and many other things besides. I was straight I told myself…married…and happily so. I’d never even looked at a guy like this before let alone got hard over one. But I couldn’t ignore it and the bulge in my jeans wouldn’t let me deny it. I tried to calm down, to re-focus my attention back on what Karl was saying, desperate to make sure I wasn’t going to be conned. Unfortunately, Karl chose that moment to lean back in his chair, lifting up both arms and placing them behind his head, the epitome of confidence and control. This movement caused his biceps to flex, the tight fabric of his shirt like a second skin on his bulging muscles. My cock ached even more as I realised that if he flexed hard he would easily rip the thin fabric. What the fuck was happening to me?! Next, and totally inexplicably, my eyes were drawn downwards. Now that Karl was leaning backwards, away from his desk, an obscene bulge in his tight blue trousers was revealed. It was colossal, like the proverbial python in his pants, the outline of his cock snaking down his left trouser leg. Suddenly I had a vision of ripping off those quad-hugging trousers, unleashing the beast underneath and taking his thick long cock in my…. Wooaaah! Where the fuck was I going with that? Why, aged 33 was I suddenly thinking about sucking another guy’s cock for the first time?! Suddenly Karl was standing up, snapping me out of my reverie. “… so are you ready to go then Joe?” I heard him say, clearly repeating himself. “R-ready?” I replied, trying to gain some control. “For your test drive,” he said, the look on his face suggesting he thought I was either a bit slow or very unwell. “Oh yeah, sure,” I hurried to reply, standing up as well. Karl was very close to me and again I noticed the strange, intoxicating scent coming off him and I couldn’t help but inhale deeply. This was a big mistake as it made me feel dizzy, my entire mind filled with his masculine smell and also visions of Karl ripping off his smart work clothes to reveal mounds of bulging muscle underneath. I nearly had to sit straight back down again but somehow managed to keep it together. “Great, well follow me and we’ll go for a spin,” Karl said, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil going on in my head. With that, he walked out of his office and I followed on behind, my eyes feasting on his solid, round glutes, jutting out below that tight waist. I noticed that his quads were so big he walked with his legs slightly apart, almost awkwardly, something that 20 minutes ago I would have found totally ridiculous. Now, however, his sheer size was driving me crazy, irrational lust pumping through me. We settled into the car, well I settled whilst Karl squeezed himself into the passenger seat, clearly far too big for the small car that I was intending to buy. “I’d need a car with a bit more head and leg room myself,” he joked, at ease. “But this’ll be perfect for you Joe”. I laughed awkwardly, uneasy at the comparison and as much as I tried to deny it, unbelievably turned on. “Right, take it away Joe. Turn right off the forecourt and I’ll direct you,” Karl continued and I noticed for the first time how deep his voice was. A strange juxtaposition to his boyish face and smooth skin. I gently eased the car away, forcing myself to focus; ideally I wanted to get through the next twenty minutes without killing us both. To my credit (and surprise) it went well to start with. I concentrated on the car, examining its acceleration, ride and general comfort as we took it on a drive around town. Karl kept up a near constant stream of conversation in the way that only people trying to sell you something can. I picked out the odd word but was mainly focussing on the car and not the young behemoth next to me. We came to a red light and I brought the car to stop, setting the handbrake. Karl was still talking and in order not to be rude I looked across, a near-fatal mistake. My cock, which had somewhat deflated during the drive, immediately jumped and started to grow again as I saw Karl’s arm rested up on the window. He was gripping the handle above the window which meant his bicep was gently flexed. From this angle I could see how much the fabric was struggling to contain the rock solid muscle underneath. I imagined trying to wrap my hands round it – I knew they wouldn’t reach – and wondered what it would feel like to try and squeeze his biceps. Inexplicably I found my gaze falling southwards again, past Karl’s mammoth pecs and further down to the bulge in his trousers. It was an amazing sight, his thick cock tenting the material obscenely, making my mouth water with lust. I had an urge to unzip his fly, pull out that beast and suck on his hot big cock head. I wanted to gradually slide more and more of his thick hard man cock deep into my mouth, tasting his pre in the back of my throat, before feeling him shoot his huge load in me. “Joe…Joe…JOE! The light’s green,” I heard Karl’s voice cutting through. I immediately looked up and back towards the road, noticing that Karl had a slight smirk on his face. Shit. He’d seen me staring straight at his huge junk probably with a look of deep desire on my face if my thoughts were anything to go by. I jerked the car into gear, pulling off and nearly stalling in my haste but Karl didn’t give any further clues that he’d seen me staring at him. Ten minutes later, as we got out of the car and made our way back to Karl’s office, my head was racing. I’m not gay, I told myself over and over. This was ridiculous – I’d never had any thoughts about other guys, not like I was thinking about Karl. My mind kept flicking back to the way his over-developed muscles made his clothes strain, the way they flexed and swelled with every movement and not least about the huge bulge resting between his tree-trunk quads. I imagined being on my knees, his huge thick man cock sliding between my lips… The door slamming behind me snapped me out of my racing thoughts. We were back in Karl’s office, me sat opposite him across the desk again. “So Joe, what do you think?” Karl asked, pushing a contract across the table, “ready to sign on the dotted line?”. I hesitated. I really hadn’t been paying enough attention to make this decision, far too distracted by the muscle beast sat opposite me. “Erm, well I’m not sure Karl,” I replied feebly. “I think I’ll need some time to think about it.” “Time is not something I have Joe - I can only offer you this deal today,” Karl said, to the point and confident. “I just don’t know Karl, maybe I can call you later to decide?” I attempted to negotiate, desperate to get out of this place and restore some normality to my thoughts. “Hmm, that won’t work for me Joe. But perhaps I can offer you something to sweeten the deal,” Karl replied, a smirk on his face. He got up out of his chair, huge quads straining the fabric of his trousers, and walked round the desk to shut the blinds across the windows. I watched, confused, as he then walked behind me and I heard a soft click as he locked the office door. What was going on, I thought for the millionth time today. “I’ve seen the way you look at me Joe,” Karl said, typically straight to the point, his voice deep and seductive. He’d returned to stand in front of me, one foot up on the desk so that his huge quads and obscene bulge were right in front of my face. “You can have all of this if you want,” he added, gently grabbing his bulge in one hand and running a big hand across his chest with the other. “You just need to sign for it…” “I-I d-don’t know what you mean…” I stammered pathetically, suddenly more nervous than I’d been in my entire life. “I-I’m not Gay,” I added with no confidence at all. “Sure, you’re not Joe. But who wouldn’t want some of this?” Karl purred as he undid his tie, discarding it on the floor. I watched in amazement as he began to slowly unbutton his shirt, revealing bit by bit the deep groove between his two huge pec muscles. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him to stop it, to run for the door but found I couldn’t move or speak, completely transfixed by what was going on in front of me. “I can see you want me Joe…why deny it?”. Karl was still smiling, utterly confident. “Just admit to me Joe…you can’t resist this muscle body…you’re hard for me…I can see,” he added, looking at the bulge in my jeans. He was right – I was harder than I’d ever been in my life before and he knew it. My heart was racing, pure lust flooding my veins as thoughts of this giant hung muscle stud filled my head. “Yes…” I whispered feebly, without thinking. “Yes, what?” Karl replied, his shirt now completely undone. I had a glimpse of his ripped abs, what looked like an 8-pack, sitting beneath the huge overhand of his pecs. “Yes, I want you,” I said, knowing deep down it was true. Karl smiled broadly in response, starting to run his hands over his exposed chest and abs, leaning back seductively so that they flexed tightly. “Well you know what to do then Joe…just sign on the line,” Karl said, closing in on the deal, one of his hands drifting downwards to grab the thick bulge in his trousers again. My eyes followed his exploring hands, imagining that it was mine tracing the outline of his abs, feeling the weight of those enormous pecs and heavy cock. “Please…Karl…” I let out involuntarily, lust now totally taking over. “Let me…” “Let you what, Joe?” teased Karl, clearly enjoying his effect over me. “Let me feel your muscles…flex for me…I need to…” I moaned, the words spilling out as I lost control. “You mean flex these guns?” Karl asked, bringing his arms up to pull a double biceps. He flexed hard, his guns exploding, the thin fabric of his shirt pulled so tight over the peaked mounds of muscle. He gently pumped his guns, flexing harder each time as the muscles filled with blood until eventually I heard a small ripping sound as the seam began to pull apart. “Oh fuck,” I exclaimed, amazed by his strength and power. “You like that straight boy?” Karl said, still flexing as visible gaps formed on both sides of his shirt sleeves, exposing the pumped muscle underneath. “The straight guy is hungry for this Muscle God and his Huge Cock isn’t he…?” “Oh fuck yes,” I replied, giving in. “I need you…please…”. “You can have me Joe…all of me…you just have to sign the contract,” Karl replied, unrelenting. “How can I trust that you’ll keep your side of the bargain,” I asked, one final part of my logical self still present. “You can’t Joe…but isn’t this worth the risk?” he replied, gesturing at his hulking frame and then starting to undo his belt. With that I was totally overcome, all logic leaving me. I reached for the contract, pulling it across the desk and scrawling my signature on the dotted line before I had time to change my mind. I then looked up to see Karl standing right in front of me, a huge smirk on his face, his belt undone and his trousers falling to the floor. As he stepped out of them I took in the sight of his colossal bulge, barely kept in by the sexy white jock strap he was wearing, the outline of his thick cock clearly visible. With his trousers off, he took one further step closer to me, straddling my legs, one of his tree-trunk quads on either side and his magnificent chest and abs right in front of my face. Karl was so close to me that his masculine scent was intoxicating, rolling off him and causing me to inhale deeply. “Looks like taking that risk has paid off Joe…” Karl said, his deep voice incredibly seductive. I couldn’t think of a reply as Karl reached down, taking both of my hands and placing them on his vast chest. I ran my hands over and between each pec muscle, feeling the solid mass underneath as he flexed hard. I then reached up to push his shirt off his shoulders, wanting to see all of him. The shirt got stuck on his massive upper arms and Karl had to help by pulling it off and throwing it to the floor. I continued my worship of this studs upper body, my hands exploring his chest and shoulders before moving onto his biceps. He pulled a double bicep pose again and I reached up to put my hands on each mound of muscle. They were rock hard beneath my fingers, like marble, with barely any body fat and as much as I tried to squeeze I couldn’t budge them at all. “Fuck yeah,” Karl growled. “Look how strong I am…” As he flexed his guns, huge veins popped up, snaking across his paper-thin skin like a road map. Fuck this stud was ripped. Still holding onto his biceps, I leaned in closer, licking up the groove between his cobbled abs. I looked up and saw the amazing overhang of his chest and nearly shot a load right there. Karl was looking down at me smiling, Godly and powerful. “Get on your knees,” Karl ordered, taking a step back. I didn’t hesitate, dropping onto the floor in front of him. “It’s time for you to realise your potential as my cock whore Joe,” he added, looking down at me. “Mmm yes Sir, please make this straight boy your cock whore,” I moaned, desperate for him, immediately submitting with no questions asked. “Take off my jock,” Karl barked. “Don’t touch my cock yet…” Obediently I reached forward, taking the straps of his jock and starting to pull it down, revealing inch by inch of his thick cock, until it was completely exposed. I realised that Karl’s jock had been deceptive, hiding some of the size of his enormous manhood. His soft uncut cock was at least 6 inches and thick too, resting on the two globes of his big balls. A Greek God would have been happy to have a cock and balls like his. Karl stepped out of the jock before reaching down and picking it up. Before I knew what was happening he had it pressed in front of my mouth, holding the back of my head to stop me pulling away. “Smell it straight boy,” Karl ordered. My initial reaction had been to resist but within an instant an animalistic instinct had taken over and I was inhaling deeply. The same scent that was rolling off Karl filled my head but with the added musk of his cock making my head spin and my heart race. My mouth was watering and almost reflexively I opened it and felt as Karl pushed the jock into my mouth. I could now taste him too and for the second time had to try hard not to shoot my load there and then. “Good boy,” Karl purred as he removed the jock from my mouth, discarding it on the floor with the rest of his clothes. With the taste of his cock lingering on my tongue, I was desperate to have the real thing in my mouth, hungry to suck on his huge man meat. “Suck on my cock, whore…just the head to start,” Karl ordered, clearly reading the desperation in my eyes. I leaned in, resting my hands on his thick quads as I wrapped my lips around his cock, sucking his cock head in my mouth. It was better than I could ever imagine, making me feel more complete than I’d ever been in my life. His man meat tasted amazing as I sucked, bobbing my head back and forwards on his huge cock head, swirling my tongue round, hungry to please him. It wasn’t long before I felt his cock starting to grow in my mouth and Karl started to let out low guttural moans. “Mmmmm…fuck yeah that feels good cock boy.” I looked up to see Karl throwing his head back, eyes shut, arms flexed above his head, groaning in pleasure. Without being asked I started to take more and more of his cock into my mouth, as if I’d done this a thousand times before. He was now fully hard and I guessed around 10 inches, his thick girth forcing my lips apart as I felt his cock hit the back of my throat. Karl moaned even more deeply, grabbing the back of my head and starting to thrust his cock more and more into my mouth. “Fuck, this straight boy loves my cock,” Karl growled, thrusting faster, oblivious as I tried to control my gag reflex. I was so hard knowing that he was using my mouth solely for his pleasure, with no concerns for me. Suddenly, Karl pulled his cock out of my mouth, leaving me feeling empty. I tried to lean forwards and take his manhood back in my mouth but Karl held me back, slapping me on the side of my face with his heavy tool. “Stand up, slut,” he ordered, always in control. I obeyed instantly. “Take off your jeans and pants,” he added. I did as he asked, taking off my t shirt too for good measure, both of us now fully naked and standing opposite each other. The comparison between us was humiliating. Without warning Karl grabbed me by both arms and lifted me up, his huge biceps bulging but dealing with my weight with ease. He put me down next to his desk before pushing me over so that I was face down, bent at the waist with my feet on the floor. With a click of realisation I realised too late where this was going. “No Karl…stop…I can’t…” I whimpered, trying to move but unable as he had kept one of his strong hands resting on my back. “Yes you can Joe…I know you want it,” he replied, completely relaxed. “You’re too big Karl….I’ve never done it before,” I pleaded, a sense of fear rising in me. “Don’t worry Joe, we’ll work up to it,” he said and I could hear the smirk on his voice. There was a sucking sound before I felt his wet finger pressing on my tight hole which immediately tightened in response. “Just relax Joe, I know you want me in you,” Karl murmured. I tried to relax, knowing it would be worse if I didn’t. He pressed his finger against my hole again but this time my ass relaxed and I felt it slide into me. After the initial flash of pain I was left with the most amazing feeling as Karl started to move his finger in and out. “Oh fuck,” I moaned into the desk. Karl worked my ass harder and then he hit a spot in me that made my whole body shiver, pure pleasure throwing through me. I let out a long moan and then had an epiphany, realising that his cock in me instead of his finger would magnify this feeling a thousand-fold. “More…”I begged simply, now desperate to have my ass filled. I felt as he slid his finger out of my hole followed by another sucking sound as he got another finger ready. He then pressed both against my hungry hole and I groaned as he entered me again. My ass felt amazing as he began finger-fucking me with two fingers. I was moaning over and over in pleasure as Karl kept up a constant stream of dirty-talk. “You’re my little straight cock whore aren’t you?” he taunted. I knew it was true and moaned as he started to fuck me harder and faster, pushing my ass back so that he would enter me even more. Soon I was getting used to the feeling of his fingers and was yet again hungry for more. “Please Karl…I need your cock in me,” I begged. “Say that again slut boy,” he ordered in reply, pulling his fingers out of my ass, leaving it feeling empty. “I need that huge muscle cock in me…..please…..” I moaned, still lying face-down on the desk. I heard as Karl rummaged in a draw for something…lube I hoped. “Mmmm yes you do Joe, you need this huge man cock in your tight straight ass,” he teased. “What does that make you Joe,” he added. “Oh fuck I’m you’re Cock Whore,” I practically shouted. “I’m a slut for your muscle and Huge Cock…please FUCK ME”. With that I felt the enormous head of Karl’s cock pressing up against my hole. I moaned as he started to push forward, entering me inch by inch, the pain in my ass building as he opened it up. “Oh fuck,” I screamed, “you’re so big!”. Still he kept sliding in…how much more could there be to go?! A lot, it turned out but eventually I felt Karl’s balls resting up against my ass and knew I’d taken it all. Karl held still, letting me get used to his huge size and thick girth and slowly the pain was replaced by the most amazing pleasure I’d ever experienced. I was now complete and knew my place in the world as Karl’s cock whore. Slowly Karl started to slide his cock in and out of my tight hole, each time going a little bit further and building up speed. “Fuck…that feels amazing,” I moaned. For the first time I looked up and realised there was a mirror behind Karl’s desk reflecting what was going on behind me. Karl was holding me by the waist, his bulging guns flexing as he started to plough my ass, veins popping and a sweat developing on his wide chest and shoulders. He started to fuck me faster, letting go of my waist and bring his arms up into a double biceps as his cock still drilled into me. “Fuck yeah, look at these guns,” he roared like an animal. “They’re so FUCKING HUGE!!”. He kissed and licked each one in turn before putting his hands back on my waist. I screamed in pleasure as he pulled me back further onto his cock, feeling his amazing strength and power completely dominate me. “Oh FUCK….your cock is so BIG,” I screamed. “Own this fucking straight boy ass,” I moaned. Karl was now thrusting his cock in and out to the hilt, fast and deep, letting out loud masculine grunts as the sweat continued to pour off him. His stamina was amazing and he didn’t let up at all as he owned my virgin ass. I watched in the mirror as he flexed his chest and biceps, his abs continuously pulled tight by the fucking. After a few minutes I knew that I wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer, my cock ready to shoot a huge load over the desk despite not touching myself. “Please Karl….I need your load in me,” I begged as he continued to thrust. “Yeah slut? You want me to breed that straight ass?” he thundered. “FUCK! YEAH! Please cum in me,” I moaned. Amazingly, Karl picked up his pace even more, slamming even harder into my ass, balls slapping with each thrust. His deep masculine grunts filled the room and I knew he was getting close. “Cum in this straight boy ass,” I begged, coaxing him on and pushing my ass further back so that was as deep in me as possible. “Oh FUCK slut,” he screamed. “I’m gonna fucking…..”. I felt as his cock swelled in my ass and with a final roar he ploughed into me one last time. I felt his huge load filling me up as my own cock exploded over the desk in the most intense orgasm of my life. Karl collapsed forwards on top of me, sweat pouring off us as we both bucked and moaned from our amazing relief. The huge weight of Karl lying on top of me made the feeling even more intense and I thought I would die if it didn’t end soon. It was several minutes before our breathing began to settle to normal and I had a chance to lift my head off the desk. In the mirror I could see the huge mass of Karl resting on top of me, his massive back swelling with each breath he took. I looked embarrassingly tiny in comparison but I didn’t care, knowing that he owned me now. In my post-orgasm daze I noticed something strange out of the corner of my eye - an odd-looking purple bottle in the open drawer of Karl’s desk. It was upside down and I’d only managed to read the words “Alpha Scent” on the label before Karl’s huge harm loomed into view and the draw was slammed shut. My confusion was quickly replaced by contentment as I drifted into an easy sleep.