growth Muscuthropy

[IJrges]

 

Leaving site

 

[CardiMuscleman]

With permission, I would like to pass on details of a patient of mine who believes may actually be a victim of this condition. Naturally, patient confidentiality means that I cannot mention his name, so for the purposes will call him Wilfred. Wilfred is, sadly, a hypochondriac, and only has to hear something mentioned on the internet or in the media about an illness and he comes to be begging me to isolate him (for instance when the Ebola virus was being reported 24/7 back in 2014, he came to me said "I know it, I've caught Ebola" when in fact all he had was a very bad cold. As a result he is in terrible shape. He stands about 5ft 5 tall (although that's only an estimate because he is always hunched over), and weighs 100lbs (which produces a BMI index calculation of 16.6 which as I keep on telling him means he is underweight). Anyway, a few days ago he came to me, and admitted that he'd been raped by, well, in his words "a living god of muscle" and that ever since he'd been feeling very strange. As a member of the group that pioneered reporting sexual crimes to the police, I made a note of his allegations and was about to examine him to prove this when he suddenly grabbed my hand with strength that seemed quite unlike him and said simply "I'm feeling a tad strange!" and started to change his appearance right in front of me. His back straightened (to such a degree I could hear the vertebrae snapping as they adjusted) and he started to grow taller as he did his hair, a mousey brown, started to turn blond almost like the sun but what really scared me was the roar. It was a roar that seemed to be a combination of physical anguish and raw power. He suddenly grabbed hold of his head and screamed "Doc, help me!" before he collapsed to the ground but when he looked up next, his face (which had been rather ridden with acne) looked straight out of a fashion magazine. He then suddenly stood upright, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling meaning that he now stood a little under seven feet tall, gave a mighty "OH YEAH!" and flexed his left arm (which I estimated was now at least 21 inches in circumference) and split the shirt he was wearing and then, as if to confirm that this was a new person in front of me, shot me a smile that showed off thirty two perfectly white teeth (when he only had twenty and they were in very poor condition)

As you can imagine I just stared in disbelief at what I had seen and perhaps sensing my confusion Wilfred said "So, doc, what you do think?" and with that ripped off his shirt to reveal a body that had to weigh at least 300lbs with hardly any fat on it. When I questioned him about what had happened he said, in a broad American accent, which considering he came from the South Wales valleys was just as odd, "I believe I am a muscuthrope" and added with that smile, "See, I told you I was ill!"

It was only by sheer luck I decided to search the internet for that term and found your description and having read it, have phoned Wilfred asking him to report to my office every night from now until the next full moon (due on October 16th) to see if indeed he is. Therefore could I ask IJrge if he has any additional information (particularly on what effect, if any, the new moon may cause on October 1st?)

[IJrges]

Leaving site

 

[CardiMuscleman]

I do apologise IJrge, that was my fault entirely. Whilst Wilfred was going through all that I was busy scribbling away notes. As I mentioned it was a few days ago and sadly, the person I hire as a cleaner tidied the vast majority of my notes away (as in put them in the shredder) so the summary I gave was from the notes I managed to rescue. Wilfred entered my surgery on September 18th 2016 at 8.20pm (and I have found from a online resource that was just seven minutes before moonrise two days after the full moon). As to your other concerns, I shouldn't worry too much, you see at the moment I have rather a bad cold (well, it is the start of the flu season) and I had taken my yearly flu shot on the 15th. As a result my nose is completely bunged up and I can't smell anything.

I did forget to mention one thing though, I found a letter from Wilfred on my desk this morning saying that he was thankful that I was going to help him. Perhaps it's because we are coming up to a new moon, as per your suggestion, but his letter seemed very apologetic as if he was apologising for things yet to happen.

[CardiMuscleman]

Summary of notes taken September 30th 2016

Wilfred arrived at my surgery at 6.11pm BST (seven hours before New Moon) and admitted that he had felt rotten all day (and proved it by sneezing violently). Based on my research I decided to ask him if he'd been feel lousy all week and he admitted that he was all right up until the end of last week but had been going downhill ever since. First hypothesis: The muscuthrope's physical condition is directly related to the amount of the moon visible. I therefore wrote him a prescription for a placebo to test my theory and said that I was sure that that would clear it up. I then decided to ask him how much he remembered of his last visit. He found this an odd question but admitted that he knew he entered my surgery and left it, but the actual visit he couldn't remember. Second hypothesis: When a muscuthrope becomes one, they become literally a different person. I told him that he had come to me asking my advice following a sexual assault and that I had taken some evidence from him to present to the police. He was very glad to hear this and said "Thank you, Doc, I knew that I had made the right choice". He left a few moments later having made an appointment to see me again on October 5th at 3.30pm. This is roughly halfway between the new moon and the first quarter. I took some physical data from him and found that his pulse was 57bpm and his blood pressure was 110 over 70

[IJrges]

 

Leaving site

[CardiMuscleman]

Summary of notes taken October 6th 2016

Following the suggestion in response to my first report, I weighed myself before Wilfred arrived and noted that I was 170lbs, unchanged on before I met Wilfred. He arrived at my surgery at 3.35pm BST apologising for being late saying that "he had had the most excellent day" and it was clear just from looking at him that he was a different person, he wasn't quite so bent over compared to last time and he was actually smiling (Third hypothesis, a muscuthorpe knows that they are changing and get mentally ready for the change) . After a few moments of small talk, he asked me a very strange question namely "Did I mind treating him?" I replied that having taken the Hippocratic oath, I treated everyone whether they were black, white, straight, gay, bi or whatever they were to which he seemed to breath a sigh of relief and said "Thanks, that has taken a load off my mind". The rest of the consultation was fairly mundane (talking about the election in America and our weather) but it concluded with me giving him a flu shot, or at least trying to but everytime I did, the needle broke. Wilfred just chuckled as if he knew something, but I was able to take his blood pressure again (100 over 60) and his pulse (53 bpm) and arranged for another appointment on October 21st (as I shall be going on holiday to Scotland on a pre arranged symposium). Could I ask therefore if I may seek their opinions on Wilfred's condition and see if they have encountered anything similar?

[IJrges]

Leaving site

[Jaypat]

Hey, I was reading about this Muscuthropy shit, and I was wondering, do they come in packs? Because I think there might be a pack at my college.

I guess I should start by telling you about my roommate, Roderick. I don’t really know if that’s his real name or not. I mean who has a name like Roderick in a world filled with iPhones and fucking Twitter? Sounds like he should be out with Sherlock Holmes or some shit. But that’s the name he gave me so that’s what I call him.

Anyway he’s this Goth dude, skinny as a fucking rail when I met him last year. Died black hair, black eyeliner, all his clothes are black or really, really, really dark grey, you know the type? Wears like SPF 1000 sunblock all the time to keep himself good and pasty pale?

Now, don’t get me wrong. I got nothing against Goths. Whatever gets you through the day, that’s my motto. But this dude was a little creepy. He’s likes all those vampire and zombie shows. He’s got posters on the wall of graveyards and the undead. They kinda clash with my football stuff. Go Patriots! Tom Brady, #12, greatest quarterback ever! Can you believe that deflate gate shit? …ok, wait a minute, back on topic.

Roderick had these books on witchcraft and spells and curses, and I once asked him if he believed in all that shit. And he says, “Oh yeah, man, that’s where all the powerful people in the world get their power.” Then he goes on to tell me that people like Hillary Clinton and even Tom Brady are into this shit. He says mystic symbols are designed into the architecture of most public buildings and how there’s this huge conspiracy to turn the rest of us into slaves to do their bidding. I was like, “Riiiight… Nice talking to you,” and didn’t bring it up again.

Roderick had a bunch of Goths he hung out with. I thought it was kinda funny how all of them were just really skinny or really overweight, no normal built guys at all. Anyways, every once in a while they’d all get together and practice rites or some shit. One night he seemed really nervous about it.

“You ok, dude.” I asked him.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Tonight’s the night.”

“What night?” I asked.

“The night we actually see some real power.”

“Oh yes?” I said, unable to keep myself from cracking a smile.

“Yeah,” he said. Then he got all pissy and wouldn’t say anything else.

When his friends got there, they seemed just as worked up as he was. “You ready?” they asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s do this!”

Then they left.

Then my friend Eric came over and we played Madden the rest of the night. I was the Patriots, of course, and I kicked his ass, also of course.

It wasn’t long after Eric left that Roderick came back.

He just sort of opened the door and fell into the room. He was all tore up. Bruised and bleeding, clothes ripped, he looked like he might pass out any second.

“You ok, dude?” I asked as I rushed to help him.

“I’m fine,” he said waiving me away and stumbling to his bed.

“Dude, you are many things, fine is not one of them,” I said. “We need to get you to Urgent Care.”

“No,” he said. “No doctors.”

Man, it looked like even the slightest movement was painful. He slumped off his torn jacket, and I blinked and then I had to look again. He always wore a shirt that was a size too small for him. The sleeves always rode a little high on his bone-thin arms and the hem only just reached the skinny-ass waist of his pants. I was pretty sure he did it because the next size up would have just hung on his thin torso like elephant skin. I mean the dude was literally skin and bones. With that and how pale he always was, I figured he was going for the living skeleton look.

But now his black t shirt sleeves were wrapped tight around his biceps. His biceps??? This dude didn’t have biceps! At least he sure as hell didn’t when he left this evening! But there they were, definite, solid biceps stretching out his sleeves. And his neck looked thicker too, and his shoulders… wider… What the fuck was going on?

“Dude, what the…?” I started.

“What are you looking at?” he snapped when he saw me staring. Then he got up and stumbled into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

I heard the shower running and a few minutes later he emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist. Holy crap, the dude had a slight six pack going on and actual pecs! When he turned around to look at himself in the mirror I could see he even had these slight muscle ridges protruding from his back. Roderick looked like he’d put on at least 20 pounds, all of it muscle.  I could tell from his expression he was pretty amazed by what he saw in the mirror. He flexed his arms and the two of us watched as both his biceps bulged into small, dense looking rocks. Suddenly he was all grins, flexing, feeling and prodding his new, bigger, harder frame all over. He seemed completely unconcerned that I was there watching all this… until the end.

The he turned to me and said, “If you tell anyone about this, they won’t believe you. So, just keep your mouth shut!” Then he grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom to get dressed.

I wasn’t going to tell anyone. He was right. They’d think I was crazy or some shit. But if I had known that night what was coming, I’d of run and run like hell!

[Demandred]

Something weird has been going on near my parent’s place. I guess this Muscuthropy thing is more widespread than I first thought. England is too small for this kind of thing to be contained forever, I guess. 

I didn’t think anything of what happened in the earlier stages until I read your observations. I don’t see my parents all that often, I moved away for a reason, y’know? But growing up I’d always had a thing for our neighbour’s kid.

I say kid, but he had a couple of years on me so he must be in his mid twenties by now. Still living at home, though he’s on his own there now. He always seemed nice enough, shy of six feet with messy black hair and a permanent smile on his face. I don’t think he was all that good at anything, but he was friendly enough and we got a Christmas card every year so… they don’t make neighbours like they used to, dad used to say.

His name’s Sam and, well, I don’t know the best way to put this without sounding kind of gay, but… I think he’s been getting real hot these last couple of visits.

I didn’t take any real notice of him last Christmas when I visited the ‘rents. I was getting the presents out the car when he was coming home from work or something, carrying a couple of bags of shopping. It was cold, that sort of cold where snow is just threatening to happen but not quite making it yet, and I couldn’t help noticing his tshirt. Mostly because he wasn’t wearing any more layers than just that. In December! He fiddled around with his keys a few minutes as I hauled my way up to my ‘rents place, and he must have seen me looking because he nodded his head and gave me that smile.

“Hey Liam,” he said. That was when I saw how his pecs were just a bit outlined in the shirt he had one, and his nipples were hard as rocks. I’m surprised they didn’t cut their way out. I’ve never seen him wear anything so fitting before, normally it’s all hoodies and jeans, so it was kind of weird to see in winter.

I played it cool, gave him a “’sup,” and headed on in. Presents ain’t cheap and they’re not light either. There’s 9 of us for Christmas dinner, that’s a lot of people to impress.

I saw him a few more times, usually when I was closing the curtains and he was in his house, just… walking around shirtless as you do. He had a pretty toned body, I’d never realised how his shoulders were at a great ratio with his waist, or how his abs were so neat and, er, I dunno, they were just there and I didn’t mean to keep looking, but each night I got into a habit of shutting my curtains and having a quick peek to see if he was strutting around shirtless.

Then I drove home for New Year’s and forgot about Sam most of the time, at least until I went back to see the family over Easter weekend. That was a good 4 months since I last visited, at that point my mum starts to give me the guilt trip speeches, ugh.

So I drove on down to see them and took all the easter eggs along too, made sure to get them inside before they melted. It was a pretty warm day, I remember it because the back door to the garden was wide open to let the dog come and go as he pleased.

“Finn is spending all day outside!” Mum tutted at me, like I’m some kind of dog whisperer. “He keeps prowling the yard and marking everything.”

“That’s what dogs do Mum,” I told her, rolling my eyes and grinning. “He’s getting kind of old anyway, let him enjoy himself.”

I went to the back door to see what Finn was up to and that was when I saw Sam again, and for a minute I had to remind myself I wasn’t asleep or drunk or something.

It was definitely Sam, he was in his back yard mowing the grass, but it was like I’d walked into a porn parody or something. His hair had grown, he was wearing it in a ponytail that came to his shoulders, and boy were those shoulders meaty. I could see the sweat on them as Sam worked, pushing the lawnmower around like it weighed nothing. I thought, he looked like he had been seriously hitting the gym. Living there, even. As he turned I could see the overhang of his pecs, broad and meaty and all these weird things I’ve never thought about a man’s chest before. Damn, but it looked like I could use it as a bed. Those abs as well… they were a heaving 6 pack, rivets of sweat trickling down them to the waistband of the pair of shorts he was wearing. This is where it gets a bit weirder too, because I couldn’t help myself. I’m pretty straight and I know it, but as he mowed to the side I couldn’t help but see how these blue shorts were absolutely jam packed. At the back it was all ass and thighs, so meaty I could see why the shorts rode up as they did. And then at the front, Jesus Christ! I’d never checked Sam out before but he was hauling a healthy piece of meat there too. It was ponderous and heavy, shifting side to side as he walked and knocked it with his thighs. He put a big hand down to adjust himself a few times, and I guess I must have been there for a while because at some point he saw me.

“Liam,” he said, putting a hand up in a wave. His lats flared and his biceps bulged from that simple movement, and they were as intoxicating as his smile right then. Even his voice had this siren’s song quality to it, low and deep and smooth…

I’m totally not gay. I’m glad this is a Muscuthropy thing. I thought I was going crazy!

“Sam! Hey, looking, er, looking good!” I replied, not sure what else to say. Finn was prowling by the fence connected to his garden at this point, sniffing away, but then suddenly he wriggled through one of the larger holes to the other side! “Finn! Get back here!” I said as I hopped over the fence and into his garden. “Sorry Liam, I thought he was too fat to get through the fence.” Finn was sniffing around Sam’s feet and as I leaned down to pick him up, I got this overwhelming smell of what I can only describe as pure man. It was this masculine, dominating scent and it had to be from Sam. I straightened up with Finn in my arms and realised that holy shit, Sam was even taller than me too. Like, six foot three maybe? Everything about him was bigger. I swear I saw his shorts shift as something was going on down there, but I made myself stare up past his bulging pecs and rounded shoulders to his manly, handsome face.

“Don’t worry about it Liam, these things happen.” Sam put a heavy hand on my shoulder and I realised not only was I hard, but I was as hard as I had ever been, now. “Take care of Finn. And if you want to come over later, that would be good too. I bet there’s a lot to talk about.”

I can’t really remember what I said, but I was back home with Finn and the first thing I did minus the dog was run upstairs to the bathroom and tug one out. I didn’t care why I was so hard, I just knew I had to do something about it before I burst. It was like I was a teenager all over again, only that sensation was quadrupled. All because of Sam?

Reading what you wrote about Muscuthropy, it all fits! I wasn’t going crazy, turning gay for a growing beefcake! But at the time I thought I was going nuts! And although I was only there for the weekend, it was tough to not take Sam up on his invite. I wanted to go round but away from seeing him, I was more nervous than anything else. He was a big guy now, even my dad commented on it a few times, and what would happen if I went round to his actual house? I didn’t want to think about it. Only, I sorta did, and it was a daydream of mine for a while.

I was glad to get out of there, as well as disappointed. I put him out of my head and got back into my work. Met a girl called Macy, had a good time, confirmed that I’m definitely straight. It must have been because I was tired, or... not sleeping with enough women or something, I don't know. That's what I told myself at the time. The alternative was a bit too weird to think about so I just ignored it. Much easier that way, besides I didn't know then what I do now.  

It came round to early September, my Dad’s 50^th birthday, and I couldn’t not visit for that. I wanted to stay away but I’d not been to visit all summer, told them it was work being busy, but I know Dad would have been disappointed. And honestly? I wanted to see what Sam was up to.

So I drove on over, got my things out the car and took them in. I went through the motions of being polite to my parents and actually, I noticed something a bit weird. My Dad was looking kind of, well, kind of good actually. I mean, this isn’t one of those stories, but I could see he’d been taking care of himself and he seemed a bit more confident too. It looked good on him. I was kind of impressed, but Dad just shrugged off my questions, nothing had changed, he wasn't going to the gym or anything like that. Maybe I just didn't pay enough attention to him. 

I tried not to think about Sam exclusively when I was there but all day he was on my mind. By the time I headed upstairs for bed, I was positively gagging to open the window and look for him. That’s exactly what I did too, I pushed it wide open and leaned on it, taking in Sam’s house. My upstairs window, his upstairs window. A private show, if he turned up. I almost fancied that I could smell him on the air and now, I think that maybe I did? The height of summer, a hot day, it lent itself towards it.

I made no show of hiding what I was up to. I didn’t want to. I sat there, watching and waiting, until the light came on over the way and a wall of muscle and fur ducked into the bedroom.

It was Sam. Sam times twelve. He looked like he not only lived in the gym, but ate every protein shake and weight supplement in there too. How tall was he now? He looked like he might be brushing the doorframe, is that normal for someone with muscuthropy? I didn’t care right then but damn, he was a tall glass of water.

He moved over to the window, steely eyes locked onto mine, and he pushed his own open. He said nothing, standing there for me, showing me what I wanted to see. His hair was longer, not tied back right then. It fell around him and past his shoulders, untamed and wild. He had heavy stubble, just the way I liked it is what I thought when I saw it. His chest was absolutely huge! It had a layer of dark hair over it that hadn’t been there before, but I could still see how massive he was. How did he even get through the door, looking like that? Those shoulders alone had to be as wide as a normal man, and his arms were freaking enormous too. Even from my window I could see the thick veins snaked across them, bulging muscles leading down to giant forearms and equally meaty hands that looked like they could palm a basketball.

The heavy six pack had a treasure trail leading down to his shorts, but it was at this point I took a deep breath and inhaled his scent. It hit me like a truck and when Sam gestured for me to go over, I didn’t even think twice. I just went for it. Down the stairs, out the door, hard as a fucking rod and ready to see Sam. I didn’t knock, I let myself in and went up the stairs of his house which was a mirror of my parent’s.

He was there in the bedroom still, and up close the smell of him was even more powerful. I wanted to stick my head under his armpit, trail my tongue along his sweat, so many things I’d never thought of doing with a man before. Because I’m straight. Damn. He turned to look at me with that killer smile, and I got to finish my assessment of his appearance. The shorts might have been the same ones he wore last time, it was hard to say, but regardless they were skin tight over his gigantic muscled thighs, pulled taut over his ass. The front was quickly fighting a losing battle to his baseball bat of a dick, which even as I stood there watching was growing bigger and thicker until Sam tugged the material down and let it stand up proudly. The thick, veiny shaft throbbed with each beat of his powerful heart, and two heaving balls hung low between those immense leg muscles, the size of grapefruits.

He was taller, definitely of a height with the door. It was impossible for a man to grow so much, to turn from an average guy to this hairy, muscled, massively hung beast of a man, but it had happened. Sam had changed since I last saw him and being in the same room as this specimen was incredible. Better than being with any woman. I knew something weird was going on with Sam, and also with me, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to climb Sam like a tree and do whatever the hell he wanted me to do.

And… I think that’s what happened next. To be honest, I don’t really remember. I wish I did because man, it must have been epic, but when I came to I was lying in my back yard, Finn was sniffing at my clothes, and I was sore all over. I was still hard but my dick felt raw as well, even my underwear hurt to rub against it. 

That was just last week and I'm still feeling weird about the whole thing even though I haven't seen Sam since. I can’t tell if anything was, er, catching. I hightailed it back to my place while I could think straight and now I’m straight up confused. What do I do now?