growth A Little Rusty

[vertical]

A Little Rusty

by Vertical

 

A crisp chill runs through the trees, the green leaves rustling, hints of red and orange peeking through. Autumn was coming and so was change. The hum of my engine keeps me company as I drive down the country road, red streaking through the sky in a brilliant display. They say the country is no place for a guy my age; young, 18, right on the cusp of adulthood. They say, ‘see the city, see the lights.’ And deep down, I wanted that. But the scene that played out in front of me, flat earth as far as the eye can see, seas of corn stalks billowing in the wind, that was enough to give me pause on those thoughts. We had grown up in these fields, played football in these fields. I even got my nickname ‘Rusty’ in these fields when I got a nasty bout of tetanus from an old nail in my junior year.

Burton was a small town, one where everyone knew each other and words travelled faster than the flocks of crows from field to field. It was my home, still is. And unlike most of the kids that grow up in this small corner of the Earth, in our little haven of 2500 or so people, I wasn’t moving on come September.

‘It’s not fair,’ Pa had said, his fist shaking the dinner table, steak and potatoes that night. ‘Immigrants takin’ all the spots in college, them Asians,’ my Grampa corrected, an older, more dignified look on his face. I didn’t look neither of them in the eye that night as my third meagre envelope came in the mail. I couldn’t face them, couldn’t take their denial. I just wasn’t smart enough for college.

Ma told me, her hand running through my corn-blonde hair, just a shade darker than hers, ‘Try again next year, Rory. ‘Til then, you can work at your uncle’s shop.’ And that’s all I could do. Maybe that’s all I was meant to do, fix tractors for the rest of my life. Country ran through my blood after all, destined to be another stoic, strong, corn-fed blonde haired, green eyed Saunders man stuck in Burton his whole life. Another picture on the wall on the old family farm.

Was it fair? I look to my side, a paltry bouquet of flowers resting on the passenger seat of my Chevy. I couldn’t afford roses, so a sad bunch of slightly dry periwinkles would have to do. My whole life, I wouldn’t be moving forward. At least it felt that way. That’s why today mattered most.

Everyone was leaving, college would be starting soon and families across Burton would say goodbye to yet another cohort of hopeful youths, eager to explore life beyond the corn fields. And that meant Liam was leaving too.

Liam Smith wasn’t like the other kids. For one, the weedy, ruddy brown haired boy was the only outed gay guy in all of Burton. Tara Thompson, in all her wiles, had caught the beanpole of a brown-haired boy sneaking peeks at an old muscle mag at her father’s store when we were in middle school. As inevitable as the weeds that run along the sides of the gravel-lined back roads, within a few days, everyone in our grade knew. A few jocks, those who played football in the hollowed-out cornfields, gave him heck for a while, the once wily, mischievous kid growing silent, his esteem crushed. Being one of the guys, I stood by, silently condoning their actions. It rarely got physical, and me and the more sensible athletes would intervene before it got serious, but I’ll never forget the hurt in his eyes. They were dark, brooding and most of all, they haunted me in my sleep.

Because I was like Liam, and I stood by and watched my friends heckle him. I tried to give him hints that we were the same. I’d bump into him, the mousy brunette apologizing reflexively. I’d flash him a smile. I cornered him one day in April of senior year, my arms blocking his exit. His hair was disheveled, even for a bowl-cut, his eyes wide as saucers. I could tell he was staring at the vein running down my bicep, hard earned sinew. I had clenched my fingers against the cold metal of the locker behind him, letting him watch the vein dance underneath my tanned skin. He was scared, maybe too scared to take the hint. I told him to ‘have a nice night’ before leaving, I should’ve kissed him instead.

And that’s what I was here to do. I pull up to the old Smith farm, a modest garden lined with periwinkles. Of all things. The Smiths were quiet folk, they rarely came to town, came to church for Thanksgiving, Christmas and every other Easter. They weren’t always so reclusive, Mrs. Smith used to always come to the local market with a bright smile. Mr. Smith, a big, bearded man, used to teach kids how to shoot in his fields. Everyone trusted him with their kids, he was one of us, a Burtonite. But one day, when I was 15, something happened. The adults in town were hush-hush about it. But like all words, they spread quickly in Burton. Kid in a grade below caught wind it had something to do with Jedidiah, Liam’s older brother. Unlike Liam, Jed took on a persona that befitted his stock –  a strong, proud man like his father, his brown locks reaching down to his shoulders in curly locks, facial hair lining his cheeks even at the age of 18.

I had heard Jed had shot someone. Some say he committed suicide. All I know was that he didn’t show around school any more after that day. Liam looked sullen, I remember that much. At least, from that day on, the boys thought twice before making a snarky remark towards him. He didn’t bother anyone, and no one bothered him. Mrs. Smith came to town less often, her smile painted whenever she did smile, no joy radiated from within. Mr. Smith no longer took anyone to his fields to rifle. A pall grew over the Smith farm, and people rarely ventured to their little slice of Burton anymore. Except me.

I step out of my truck, taking a longing look at the bunch of half-dead flowers staring back at me. I sigh, taking the bouquet in hand before closing the door. Apart from my Chevy, there was one other vehicle in the driveway, one I didn’t recognize. Mr. Smith’s old beat up Ford wasn’t there, nor was Liam’s junker of a rice burner. There beside my truck was a newer model of it, this year’s, maybe last’s, the dust and mud on mine contrasted with the chrome of other. I pause in my advance, wondering if I have the right place, but I know these fields, I remember Mr. Smith’s strong hands showing me how to hold a rifle just over yonder when I was young.

With trepidation, I walk up to the front porch, ascending the steps one at a time, the old wood creaking underneath my footfalls. I hold the flowers behind my back, my heart leaping out of my chest, perspiration marring my brow and staining the underarms of my black shirt. I knock on the old door, the metal screen peeling around the outer screen door. I don’t sense anything at first, but then I hear a stirring about from within. I could feel the nervous dread in me and I almost flaked like the white paint along the old Smith farm’s sidings.

The front door swings open and my eyes go wide as I stare up... and up. I was a tall fellow, Ma used to say ‘6 feet and proud, like an oak.’ The man before me had to have me beat by almost a head, maybe 6’6” or more. His eyes were a mellow, warm brown. A Smith for sure. Locks of curly hair adorned his crown down to his shoulders, his strong face covered in a light dusting of brown fuzz, a week after a shave or so.

“Jed?” I blurted, looking the man in the face. He looked like Liam’s older brother but... older. Though, I suppose that was inevitable. The man pauses for a moment and then smirks, his cheeks rosy as he nods.

“Rory Saunders, what brings you here?” he booms, his heavy hand reaching out through the rip in the screen door to rest on my shoulder. His voice was deeper, less boyish than I remember. His smile was kind, like Mr. Smith’s used to be, like all the Smiths used to be. Time had that effect on a man as well. And time seemed to have treated Jed well. Not only was he tall, but he was brutally thick. Wearing nothing but a stringer A-shirt and a pair of workout shorts, the fabric was plastered onto his form. Large mounds of muscle bunch up underneath, not unlike that of a bodybuilder’s. But Jed’s muscles were different, they were honest, the likes of those of a man who worked the land like an ox; in another word – he was rough, hewn out of brutish hands.

“I...” I gulp, unable to process what I was seeing in front of me. Jed had turned into a giant over the three years he had gone missing.

“Spit it out, boy,” the bestial man grunts. Authority oozed from every pore, even the musky smell coming off him demanded respect. He must’ve been lifting something, I could smell the metallic residue on the hand on my shoulder.

“Is Liam in?” I ask meekly, more mouse than man, my voice cracking like I was 12 again.

“Hah,” the man booms, a big, boisterous smile on his face. “You just missed him, he went into town to get something for dinner. Our folks are out of town an’ I’m just here to help Liam move out. You’re welcome to stay ‘til he gets back.” He swings the screen door open and puts his back to the door, supposedly inviting me in.

I gulp as I squeeze past him. He was so thick, he took up more than half of the doorway, even turned to his side. I slide past him, my cheek brushing up against the man’s chest. My breath grows shallow as my nose bumps into one of his protruding nipples. I could swear I heard him coo a little.

“Now wait a second,” he rumbles, his hand catching mine. Shit, the flowers. “What’s the meaning of this?” he grunts, seizing the wilting bouquet. My blood freezes, ice in my veins as I look up at him, a shocked look on his face.

“Please,” I whimper. Burton wasn’t the worst place for a faggot, no one would dare to lynch one in public, but in the privacy of their own homes?

“Rory, are... you?” Jed blurts, his eyes curious. His expression softens and the giant takes me under his arm and playfully presses his fist into the crown of my head. “Well I’ll be,” he booms, his voice filled with warmth. The pressure, the stench; both were strong and overwhelmingly masculine. I could feel myself getting aroused.

“Looks like Liam did well, caught himself a cute jock,” Jed chuckles, patting me on the back as he brushes past me and into the small kitchen, pouring out a glass of sweet tea. He offers it to me and what else could I do but accept? I take meagre sips, the giant man watching me intently. My mouth drank in the sugary tea, my eyes drank in his body.

In the soft light, I could see every detail the quick glances of him I took of him outside missed. His shoulders were broad, like an ox’s, his back blotting out the artificial yellow light from the kitchen as he leans into the doorway. His pectorals spilled out a good foot from his chest, each rounded and full. Pulled tight against his body, the stringer outlined the ridges of his abdominals. His arms, each had to be the size of melons. His thighs, they rivalled the size of my torso, his shorts barely came down a quarter of each boulder of muscle. The giant catches me watching, a wolfish, almost feral smirk on his face as he brushes a hand along his basket. That thing was oversized as well, looking as if it had been stuffed with several pairs of socks, almost comically large.

“You know, Rusty, I was in the middle of a workout, you’re welcome to join me while we wait,” he offers, his big, almost ursine form lumbers past me as he descends down a flight of stairs into the basement. I get a look at his back, traps and lats so large the man’s massive arms scrape along the sides of both walls along the way down. His glutes swing in a bodybuilder’s swagger.

Dumbfounded, I slowly follow him down from a distance. The basement was barely furnished, the floor covered in epoxy, the bare minimum in finishings done to the space. A slight chill runs through my spine, the low 7’ ceiling and dim lighting giving off a claustrophobic vibe, especially given how much space Jed took up. The energy in the room was tense. I watch as Jed makes his way to an old bench press, a few slightly rusted dumbbells lining the far wall from the landing of the basement.

“I know it’s not much, but this is all we had,” the beast of a man chuckles, shaking his head, his mane of hair swinging side to side. He takes one look at the bench and smiles as he piles on plate after plate. I stand there, gawking at the amount of weight he was attempting. “C’mon, buddy, gimme a spot?”

I nod and walk over, ready to assist him. “Hey,” I gulp, my tone cautious, unwilling to challenge his authority. “You forgot the clips,” I say meekly, bending down, and fastening the pieces of metal to the bar, holding the plates in place.

“Ah, yeah. Thanks, Rusty,” Jed grunts, a little red on his cheeks from the embarrassment. “Just got a little too excited ‘bout lifting, is all!” With a loud grunt, he lifts the bar off its rest and slowly brings it down. I watch him, concentration stricken on his handsome visage. He exhales sharply, bringing the bar down to touch his enormous chest.

“Hey! Exhale on the way up!” I bark. A gnawing shock runs through me, unbelieving I had just blurted that out. I fear I may have overstepped his authority again, but the beast is focused on his lift, baring his canines as he forces the bar up, his arms shaking.

The second rep is smoother and I feel myself going red in the face as I watch his body in motion, each muscle working in tandem with its neighbours to gently bring the bar down and then push it back up. Apart from the first rep, it didn’t look like he needed my help anymore.

“Five... six...” he growls lowly, his voice echoing in my head, deep and reverberating. And growing deeper. By the seventh rep, I notice why.

His chest, already pumped, blasts larger as he brings the weight down, his nipples now visible though the sleeves of the shirt. His face is red, his eyes glazed over as he moans lewdly. I hear ripping, the sound of fabric losing a war against sheer mass. The first to give was his shorts, splitting along the sides as his titanic thighs grow.

“Nine... ten...” he grunts, his voice almost inhuman now, barely audible, half sound, half vibration. The growing beast’s lats devour the bench, the leather now only touching the small of his back. His chest bursts out of the shirt, his nipples pointing downwards with one rep, pointing inwards on the next. His groans sound like that of a tortured beast, his skin an angry shade of red and the heat coming off his body was like that of a working furnace.

“Aungh,” he snarls. He throws the weight off of him, the barbell crashing into the ground, the floor rumbling as hundreds of pounds crash into the floor, leaving divots. With an unceremonious rip, the beast’s member bursts through his thin underwear. A low thwack rings throughout the dingy basement, an overwhelming musk permeating the air. The giant’s knob reaches halfway up his torso, the head larger than an apple resting between the mountains of his chest. Dark flesh pulses, writhing with veins, the shaft as thick as salami.

“Rusty,” Jed commands, his voice a mix of human and something animal. He points to a toolbox. “Tape measure,” he orders. His hands reach down to wrap around his massive shaft, his grunts and growls filling the air, the smell of sex now overwhelming. As I rifle through the tools, I can already hear the pre splattering out of his cockhead, his balls audibly gurgling, each the size of a small bowling ball. I find the strip of plastic and turn around to see ropes of pre-seed jettisoning out of his piss-slit with enough force to rival any other man’s orgasm.

“Ough, measure it,” he growls lowly, pushing the slick member down, forcing it away from his body. I gulp as I draw near, watching in disbelief as his body continues to throb, continues to grow. Hairs sprout and darken all over him, concentrating along the midline up his abdomen, joining a lush forest of hair between his pecs, the hairs shining with a mixture of pre-seed and sweat. His stubble had grown out into a beard, curly and dense. I was looking at something no longer truly human. This man, this beast... he had turned into something beyond what a man could be.

I do as he says, yelping as he flexes his inner pelvis, his rod shuddering. “Oh my God,” I whimper.

“What does it say?” he grunts, answering my call to divinity.

“31 inches,” I gasp, my hands trembling next to his godhood. Over 2 and a half feet of dick was mere inches from my face.

“Urgh... AGAIN!” he roars. Veins snake up his neck as he flexes harder, every muscle in his body pushing out. New networks grow, more blood vessels forming to feed his body. He howls lowly, no longer a beast but a god, his wailing completely devoid of humanity. My stomach churns, watching as his muscles billow outwards like storm clouds. His arms grow larger than a bodybuilder’s chest. His mass is so immense, his body crashes to the floor as the bench gives way to his bulk. “Mmph!” he snarls, enjoying the sensation of his wide shoulders, now wider than I was tall, slamming into the ground. His chest pushes his chin upwards, his neck swallowed his traps. So much muscle spills forth, his abs are forced outwards, the god sporting eight ridges on a gut covered in shag.

“Again, Rusty,” he moans lowly, his right hand slowly feeling up his new abgut, massaging his pre-seed into the dense fur. “Measure my fuckin’ dick, shrimp!” he roars, his left hand almost becoming a blur as he strokes himself with abandon. His thighs, each a leviathan on their own, flex in concert as they thrust his hips upwards in time to his fervent, mad stroking.

“36 inches, Liam,” I whimper.

“The fuck did you just call me?” the god snarls.

“Liam,” I repeat, tears welling in my eyes as I shrink away from him. The musclebound deity’s expression softens, his grimace turning into a knowing, wily grin. I had seen it once before, maybe when I was much younger. “Jed would never call me ‘Rusty.’ He went away before I got tetanus.”

“You know,” the musclegod rumbles, slowly getting to his feet. The giant was so tall, he had to stoop, his shoulders touching the low ceiling. He took up so much space, he was almost as wide as he was tall, all of it covered in muscle and hair. “You’re way smarter than they say you are, Rory. I always knew that.” His big paw comes down, covering my entire shoulder.

“W-what happened... what’s happening to you?” I stammer.

“Same thing that happened to Jed,” Liam replies quietly. “He just started growing out of the blue one day. Ma and Pa called the doctors. We never saw him again.” His face grows pensive, his expressive eyes full of sadness. He bowls forward, one massive mitt grabbing at my torso and he hoists me upwards, placing me gently on his engorged cock, my thighs spreading out as if riding a horse. The heat coming off his body is intense. The smell of his sex invigorates me, as if pure testosterone was diffusing in the air around him. “Except I’m bigger, way bigger,” he rumbles. I could feel his voice shaking me to my core. “I’m way stronger,” he moans, his lust reaching a fever pitch. His arms wrap around me, his giant hands reaching past me to jack himself off. His pectorals push at my face, my nostrils filling with his scent, lush hair scratching at my cheeks. “O-oh,” he whimpers, his rod growing more sensitive as he nears orgasm – apotheosis.

“F-fuck!” he roars.

It had begun.

His chest surrounds my head, his gigantic biceps squeeze around my shoulders, forcing my arms to hug his gargantuan abgut. His cock throbs underneath me, I can feel the blood in his veins pushing at the surface of his dick with each involuntary flex against my thighs. I scream as the monstrously-built musclegod brings his cock upwards to hug against his body. The front of my face is pressed against his pectorals, the back of my head feels the sheer pressure of his ejaculate pushing through his urethra, the strain echoing through his shaft. My world is muffled, the sound drowned out by his muscles, my sight gone as I’m forced against brawn not even a pantheon of gods could possibly possess. My skin writhes as hot liquid pours over me. One minute becomes two, two becomes four. After eight minutes of pure sensory overload, Liam crashes to his knees and releases his cock from a chokehold.

I sputter and slide off his massive cock, coughing as I land in an inch deep pool of semen. I wipe my face, forcing myself onto my hands and knees and look up at him. His magnificent form glistens with perspiration, his deep, heavy breathing causing his expansive chest to grow inches with each inhalation. He smiles and chuckles deeply as he crawls forward, great tides of semen pushing to the side as he advances.

With a finger, he pushes at my chest, an audible squish ringing throughout the room as I fall onto my back. The hulking mass of muscle quivers as he easily rips my shirt and pants off, my own comparatively modest endowment poking straight up in the air.

“You’re bigger than I thought,” he coos, his voice like an earthquake. “8? 9 inches?” he growls as his strong tongue works its way down.

“9!” I bark as his lips clamp down on my shaft all the way to its base, my thick shaft not even reaching the back of his throat. I arc my back, my own muscles writhing in unison as he sucks me with such force he could rip the skin right off if he went any further. “Oh... God... Liam!” I wail synonyms as he works my shaft. I thrust upwards, shooting a thick load down his throat. The giant hums graciously as he accepts my meagre offering. I could feel a wave of pressure coming off him with each of my thrusts. If my pittance of a tithe offering was adding to his mass, it was barely a drop in the ocean of muscle that made up his body.

I crumple in the cooling pool of Liam’s god-spunk, spent and basking in euphoric afterglow. I look up at the giant with a shit-eating grin, past the muscles, past the hair and deep into his eyes. Beautiful, brown, they still haunted me.

“I’m leaving,” he announces, the solemn, pensive look I’d come to know him to have returning. “Once my parents get back, there’ll be questions.” He looks me in the eyes and then puts out a hand, the palm larger than my head. “Come with me, Rusty. My parents got me that new truck. I’ll take up the bed, you drive.” It wasn’t a command, but a plea. A smirk grows on his handsome face, warm and cheerful. “With as productive as I am, I’m going to need you to take a bit of the pressure off if I’m gonna do well in college,” he adds with a wink.

I take his hand, my own like a babe’s in his. He pulls me in, our lips meeting for the first time. Maybe I would be leaving Burton after all.

 

***

Long time lurker, first time poster. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!

Edited February 7, 2017 by vertical
typos, formatting for readability

[Ro20316]

Amazing story my friend.

Wuld love to know about them in college

[NoloContendere]

Well done. Beautiful imagery, hot growth, and an ending that make SN one want more!

[arpeejay]

Great story!

[crushme99]

Exceptionally good work.

[vertical]

Thanks everyone, glad you enjoyed the short story.

7 hours ago, Ro20316 said:

Amazing story my friend.

Wuld love to know about them in college

I may revisit it in some way down the line!

[sssska]

What a wonderful story!

[mario2007]

I REALLY hope there's a follow-up to this.  Fantastic.  If anyone's seen the recent pics of Brandon Curry - talk about fitting this story perfectly!

[Hanugumo]

D'awwwr. ^^ <3 Kinda cute yet hot at the same time. 83 <3

Though I wonder if you would do another part but than in Liam's point of view. ^^ I mean: To show what his feelings were like all the while Rusty was sucking him off and his reaction to being visually and physically woreshipped. And maybe whatever made Jed & Liam grow would happen to be infectious to males? ;3

[hardmuscl4life]

That's a great story.  I really enjoyed how it spun out.  Really excellent writing. Many thanks for that. 

George