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A Most Productive Year VI


Vetinari26

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Aw yeah, getting into the back half. There might be some....changes ahead. I've swiped the oldest trick in the book here to get out some macro ya-ya's, hopefully without interrupting the storyflow too much (I still intend this to very much be an old-fashioned wish-fulfillment, slow-growth story). I tried to jam some foreshadowing in to make it not a complete digression. The final bit of the bath-house scene was the first spark of this story. Enjoy!

 

Previous parts can be found here:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

 

A Most Productive Year, Part VI

 

The new year was fast approaching, and soon after that would come the midpoint of our year. Well, mine and Scott’s at least. August and Chuck still had eight months to go. Lucky bastards, I thought, absentmindedly tracing the rugged outline of my abdominals with my fingers as I lay spread-eagle in Scott and my new king-sized bed. The old one, long inadequate for our needs, had finally snapped when Scott tried to sit down on it two weeks ago (“Oops,” he’d chuckled). Even a king was a bit cramped to share with a man of Scott’s size, so I was enjoying the chance to stretch out my 6’2” frame. Just for fun, I flexed my 56” chest, popping out the massive soccer balls of my pectorals. It felt good to be this big and strong, I mused as I massaged them roughly with the base of my palms, my 20” biceps bulging (they were almost as big as Scott’s had been a month ago! I was quickly progressing from a classic bodybuilder’s physique to a modern mass monster at 273 pounds of ripped muscle). The smell of breakfast foods wafted through the door and my empty stomach groaned with anticipation. It was going to be nice having Scott around every morning.

He’d put in his notice two weeks ago, tired of the complaints from his co-workers. At first his growth had been fantastic in the bakery—him rolling out dough in the storefront window had gone from a minor curiosity to a major attraction. Crowds would gather to watch his forearms, now bigger around than my biceps at their peak, flex and bulge as he pressed his 491 lbs into the rolling surface before him. Many were praying to watch it crack. But the fishbowl was getting small for a buff whale like him. When he wanted to move every one of his coworkers had to scramble out into the lobbyfront, and his arms still scraped the counter and the hot ovens in the tiny space. He had the burns to prove it. “Fuck it,” he’d said to me one night as I serviced him, one of my hands on one of his massive glutes and the other groping his titanic calves. “I can do the bar thing full time. At least those little guys appreciate what a big man can do for them,” he’d roared, bringing his massive arms up into a tremendous double bicep pose. I had nodded happily as I hunched down to lick the length of the throbbing vein on the bottom of his cock with my tongue.

I yawned and stretched as I rose from the bed, wearing nothing except a pair of tight black boxer-briefs. I rolled my shoulders and felt the muscles of my back rub against each other, working out the soreness from my gym session the evening before. Scott was in the kitchen naked save for a tiny apron , his massive ass exposed as he leaned over a giant pan of eggs.

“Almost ready,” he boomed as he rose up to greet me, the seven-foot ceiling of our kitchen a mere inch from his orange buzz-cut. “Damnit!” he thundered as his head smacked into the ceiling fan. The wooden blade snapped off and landed on the floor. “Been doing that all fucking morning,” he said, rubbing the top of his head. I laughed. We were definitely going to have to move to a bigger place soon.

“Nice beard,” he shot. After my encounter with Mister Marco Fernandez, I’d started shaving down to my mustache and sideburns (the full “Castro clone” look, as Chuck would say) each morning, but by noon the rest of it always grew back to a thick five-o-clock shadow. By morning, I may as well have left it be. “Now help me serve this up.”

We dug into the giant feast he’d prepared. I hadn’t realized just how much the big man ate. I was putting away more food than I’d ever seen a man do, but I had barely made a dent in the great mountain of eggs, fruit and meat. Scott inhaled the rest, leaning back on the creaking couch and rubbing his distended gut. “That might tide me over until an early lunch,” he rumbled. I slunk to the kitchen to wash the many dishes we’d used.

“Fuckin’ love that ass off yours, boy,” he growled. I wiggled it, and kicked the wooden fan blade on the ground out of my way. I was just washing the last of the pans when I felt him behind me. At nearly twice my weight he barely had to do a thing to envelop me as he slipped my boxer-briefs down to my ankles, moving his sausage fingers slowly down every curve and muscle of my outer thighs and sloppily kissing my neck as he did. I was surrounded by him. To my back, to my left, to my right, and above me was one man. One hot man. If he was a furnace usually, that furnace been turned up to maximum.

“Ready to work an appetite back up?” he purred, before suddenly jerking away. He doubled over as if there was a great pain in his stomach.

“Scott? What’s wrong? Are you--?” I asked, panicked.

“Wait,” he raised his great paw as he breathed heavily, sweat cascading off his heavy brow. “There’s a fucking fire in...!” He gripped it tightly with his gigantic arms. “It feels...It feels...good.” A rumbling like the sound he made when he was bottoming grew in the huge chamber of his 68” chest. Soon it was shaking everything in the apartment. He lifted his head slightly. Or…

He hadn’t. He was still bent over at the same angle. He was just bigger all over. He must have sprouted up over an inch in a matter of moments. “NNNNNNNNNN,” he moaned. The shaking was getting more violent. He swelled further, mass pouring into his legs, arms, and gut, the back of his bull-neck and vast shoulders (he was already having trouble with doors) hitting the kitchen ceiling. The ceiling his head hadn’t reached a minute ago.

“What the fuck?” he thundered as he lifted his ballooning arms and pressing his mitts to the ceiling, coming to terms with just what was happening to him. I could only stare at him, my mouth agape. He squatted down and waddled to the living room of our apartment where before sitting down on his titanic backside with a great boom, crushing the couch beneath him. His head was still less than three feet from the taller ceilings, and gaining fast.

“THIS FEELS AMAZING,” he bellowed and lifted his arms into a superhuman double bicep pose. Thick muscle poured into them as they grew monstrously. Shaking, I scrambled over to and over him, standing on each of his outstretched thighs and balancing myself against his rapidly expanding muscle-gut. It must have been at least 10 feet around, and his chest was just as massive if not bigger.

“Babe?” I asked, quivering as a rain of plaster signaled that his head had once again breeched the ceiling.

“I got you,” he rumbled warmly as he wrapped one of his arms, now as big as I was, around me and leaned forward to shelter me beneath his torso. “FUUUUUUUUCK” he roared as the floor beneath us caved in. The ten-foot drop to the floor beneath was nothing to him, his seated body now extended through three floors of the building and his legs punched through the exterior wall—it must have been an odd sight from the city street, two giant feet sticking out of an apartment building from 10 floors up.

“Hold on, little one,” he boomed as he tore through the drywall and brick that separated him from the open air with his legs and right arm, as I was still tucked under his left. He scrambled out and, floor by floor, climbed his way down the building as though he was King Kong, his massive fingers tearing through the walls and windows of our downstairs neighbors as he did. He landed on the ground with a great BOOM and his growth accelerated, quickly bringing his head up to the hole where our apartment once sat. He picked me out of his armpit with one hand and placed me on his shoulder, now large enough for me to squat on, if I grasped the hair on his neck to steady myself.

“Look at that tiny little mouse-hole,” he chuckled, his laugh like an earthquake to me. I splayed myself on his shoulder, hugging his deltoids with my whole body to avoid being thrown off by the slightest of his movements.

“Sorry, little guy,” he said when he noticed. “I’ll try to move slow for ya,” His face was taller than my whole body. Laying prostrate on the “ground” of his shoulder, face to face with his titanic visage was like looking into the face of a god.

“Welcome to the party,” came a booming from on high behind us. Slowly, Scott turned to see the massive form of Chuck lumbering down the four-lane road toward us, his massive love-handles scraping against the buildings on each of his sides and raining brick and steel behind him. He must have been twenty stories tall. There was August riding piggy back on him, his obscenely muscular arms wrapped around the base of his lover’s neck. He’d grown too an unbelievable size too, five stories tall and more muscular than the most stacked professional bodybuilder. Most incredible of all, he still didn’t seem to have an ounce of fat on him.

“Looking pretty small there, son,” Chuck grunted down at Scott like a thunderclap. “I remember a time when you were bigger than me.”

“Don’t get too cocky, old man,” Scott yelled up at him as he flexed his best most muscular and his growth accelerated again. It slowed when as he reached Chuck’s tremendous height. They stomped to meet each other, feet cracking the pavement under as they did. They bumped their humongous guts against each other aggressively and eyed each other as I crawled to find a safe crevasse over Scott’s swiftly expanding collarbone.

“Is that Jack?” Chuck asked. “He’s still so small."

“Little man’s still little?” yelled August from below. His body sprouted upwards until the gleaming dome of his head reached the bottom of Scott and Chuck’s chests, his gargantuan muscles bulging obscenely.

“Not for long,” Scott replied, offering me the palm of his hand to climb on to. Gently, he lowered me to the ground. “Go on, babe,” he thundered. “Show ‘em. Grow for me.”

I pictured myself the size of a mountain, my great steps shaking the Earth as I bestrode it like a colossus, imagined the great strength of my arms scooping up whole chucks of rock and hurling new moons into orbit. I roared and flexed, willing my body to swell upwards. I roared and flexed and roared and flexed and...nothing. I was still simply human.

“You’ve got this,” he boomed as the three of them seemed to double in size. I was no more than a bug to them. I strained and strained, but the growth wouldn’t come.

“Oh well,” came a deep thundering from above. It was so deep I couldn’t tell which of them was speaking anymore. I couldn’t see their faces over the vast shelf of their chests and (in Chuck and Scott’s case) guts.

“Come here, big man.” Their voices were probably reverberating across the state. I saw Scott and Chuck embrace and kiss, their massive bodies mashing against each other as they flopped to the ground, crushing whole city blocks beneath them. August was quickly growing to meet them as the three of them groped each other and grew. Soon I would be crushed along with the rest of the city beneath these three giants, and there was nothing I could do.

 

I woke with a start, sweat coating and matting the fur that covered my body. I grasped my thumping heart and tried to calm myself as Scott gave a loud snore beside me. While massive, he was still himself. 6’11”, probably still under 500 lbs. Still mine. The gigantic man was fast asleep, his face peaceful and beautiful. He was muttering slightly. “Bigger...bigger...” Was he having the same dream I had? Was he imagining himself crushing city blocks? And was I there next to him?

I curled up next to him and rested my head on his chest, my thoughts racing. He wrapped one of his two-foot arms around me with a contented smile and grunted. “Mmm...Jack,” he mumbled. It was the first day in years he’d gotten to sleep in, and nothing and no one could wake the big, hibernating kodiak. Safe in his embrace, I tried to go back to sleep.

 

The bathhouse excursion had been Chuck’s idea, of course. Scott had broken 500 lbs this morning and had wanted to celebrate. Chuck was insistent upon how.

“What good is the big 5-0-0 if you can’t feel how big you are?” he’d asked over the phone. “Let’s wander naked down some narrow hallways. Let’s fuck some littles. Let Gus and Jack feel like big men for a change.”

The two of us sauntered in, Scott having to stoop and sidle slightly to get through the doorframe. The front desk clerk gaped at us as he handed us our keys and towels.

“Sir and August are already inside,” he stammered. Good. Chuck and August were already here (with the exception of the three of us, most men had taken to simply calling Chuck “Sir,” at his request. He seldom had to request twice). We found them by the lockers, August with a towel around his waist. 290 pounds of pure muscle, he already had bodybuilding blogs interviewing him and he hadn’t even made his debut yet. His back was insane, a health-textbook illustration of perfected human form. At 6’3” he towered over most men.

Chuck, however, was not most men. He looked even taller than the 6’10” we’d last measured him at, his muscles and belly cartoonishly large as he lumbered toward us.

“Congratulations on half-a-thousand, son,” he rumbled, drawing Scott into a big bear hug. He grabbed Scott’s ample ass and jiggled it. “I was real happy to hit it last Saturday. I’m 512 last time I checked.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised given the size of him and the rate he was growing, but it still hadn’t occurred to me that Chuck might one day outgrow Scott. From the looks of it, Scott hadn’t considered it either. He didn’t look happy about the notion.

“Well, enjoy it anyway,” Chuck said with a wink. August just grinned at me. “500 pounds still makes for a big boy. I wouldn’t bother with a towel. None of them are big enough.” He and August departed, Chuck’s massive body barely able to squeeze down the tiny hallways.

Scott was still dumbstruck. He had gotten used to being the biggest man around, and the shock of being outgrown wasn’t going to wear off soon. I massaged his mountainous back.

“We’ll both just have to work harder than them. And eat more. I’m up for it. We’ve gotta get two months out ahead of them if we want to be the bigger couple” He looked at me starry eyed. “Remember how great it was getting our shit together, getting to the gym for the first time? We can do this, babe.”

“That’s my man,” he growled, grabbing me roughly around the chest and dipping me onto his lap. He kissed me. “Go find some little man and fuck his brains out,” he said. “Then come back to me. There are some toys here I want to use with you.”

 

I was searching for Scott. After fucking some young thing in the sling so hard I thought the kid was going to tear in half, I had made my way to the gloryhole maze. My massive tool had barely fit through the largest of holes, but it had been worth it to feel two tongues caressing my cock at once, having both found it too girthy to actually swallow. Only a man of Scott’s size could take me. As I stomped down the hallways I barely noticed the men around me stop and struggle to surreptitiously check me out. Whatever. How could a 500 lb man be so hard to find? I must have run into Chuck 6 times, ducking into alcoves to let the giant bear squeeze past.

Ultimately, I found him in a mirrored room I’d usually avoided. He was fiddling with some restraints bolted to the ceiling—fuck, he was tall. We were really going to have to find a new place before he started hitting his head on the ceiling. Even if it was irrational, I couldn’t let the first part of my nightmare come true.

“Gotta replace these,” he grunted. “Handcuffs don’t fit my wrists.” He snapped the thin chain-link holding them together and ran a thick cord through the metal ring they had hung from. He wrapped it around his wrists and held them up to the ceiling.

“Help a guy out?” he grinned at me. “I want you in control. That ain’t gonna happen right now without my hands tied. Manhandling you is too much fun.” Fuck yeah, manhandling guys was fun. I thought back to fucking that kid in the sling. What if I got so big I could manhandle August? Fuck, I wanted it.

“If you like the idea that much,” Scott growled, nodding at my growing erection, “get started, muscle-man.” I stalked straight up to him and, on my tiptoes, tied the restraints around his massive wrists.

“You sure these are gonna hold?” I asked.

“They’re meant to tug boats. So, hopefully.” I stepped back to take in the sight of him. He was glorious. His round quads were a full 3 feet around, dwarfed only by his 73” chest and 70” gut. Even tied to the ceiling, his arms weren’t outstretched. He’d had to bend them so far his elbows were nearly resting on it, his shoulders and biceps bulging.

Beneath the quivering mass of his triceps lay my target—his massive, hairy pits. The chasm between his pecs and lats beckoned, and I dove in like a pig, snarling and snorting as I licked and sucked on his flesh and fur. Groping his impossibly broad back with my hands, I worked my way down every inch of his torso until I reached his massive cock. I tugged on his giant balls as I devoured his giant member. He moaned in ecstasy and admired my defined back in the mirror as I worked his rod.

“You suck good dick, boy,” he rumbled after he came, but I wasn’t listening. Lathered into a frenzy, I continued worshiping him up and down with my tongue, ascending back to his pits.

“Fuck, babe, when I’m not hard that...” he thrashed back and forth. “Fucking TICKLES,” he bellowed, flexing his titanic arms and screaming as plaster rained down on our heads. We both stared in amazement at the piece of plaster and drywall hanging from the thick rope still tied to his wrists. The rope, in the end, had been strong enough. The ceiling hadn’t.

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This really is becoming one of my all time favorites. I'm glad to hear we still have so much left to go!

 

Very excited to see the two couples compete for size and jockey for position but I can't help but want Chuck to be the biggest! I love him.

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I hope that our "little" narrator will become big enough to no longer be talked down upon like in his dream. =( I feel bad for him cause he seems to be the slower growing one. =(

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