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1 hour ago, Toro said:

 

I would have expected something more than 7 inches from a big bear man!

:-)

He starts fairly average, and even at 275 I wanted to keep his proportions fairly realistic. 7in isn't super long, but let's talk about GIRTH instead! 

And trust me, as the story goes on, his cock, like the rest of him, is going to get PLENTY bigger!

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This kinmd of stories always make me feel bad for the loosers. Clint was  a nice guy that just wanted to enjoy sex and now Chuck ruined it. One thing tho. If there are nanorobots the things that are making these changes wouldnt be Clint full of them cause Chuck is coming inside of him everytime?

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23 minutes ago, Ro20316 said:

This kinmd of stories always make me feel bad for the loosers. Clint was  a nice guy that just wanted to enjoy sex and now Chuck ruined it. One thing tho. If there are nanorobots the things that are making these changes wouldnt be Clint full of them cause Chuck is coming inside of him everytime?

To quote the MST3K theme song:

"if you're wondering how he eats and breaths and other science facts, repeat to yourself 'it's just a show, I should really just relax'" ;) 

If you feel bad for the little guy, this may not be the story for you. I like my big bully protagonists to have all the power; they're bigger and stronger, so they get what they want... and that usually means growing and fucking. Sorry!

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29 minutes ago, spacevlad said:

To quote the MST3K theme song:

"if you're wondering how he eats and breaths and other science facts, repeat to yourself 'it's just a show, I should really just relax'" ;) 

If you feel bad for the little guy, this may not be the story for you. I like my big bully protagonists to have all the power; they're bigger and stronger, so they get what they want... and that usually means growing and fucking. Sorry!

Me too; I like brutish selfish men who take what they want. 

Keep on this line. What is causing the change is not that important

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3 hours ago, spacevlad said:

To quote the MST3K theme song:

"if you're wondering how he eats and breaths and other science facts, repeat to yourself 'it's just a show, I should really just relax'" ;) 

If you feel bad for the little guy, this may not be the story for you. I like my big bully protagonists to have all the power; they're bigger and stronger, so they get what they want... and that usually means growing and fucking. Sorry!

Yeah, there's plenty of stories out there of the underdog coming out on top. I like seeing the stories where the underdog gets crushed under the weight of the top dog's ever increasing bulk.

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In this chapter, Chuck struggles internally with how much bigger he should get, then goes to the gym, where he uses his new tricks to stay energized throughout the day and grow a little more.

 

Chapter 5:

 

Chuck awoke with a hard on, aching for release. He stretched and realized his full size bed was getting a bit small for him now that he was 275lbs of bulky muscle. He could tell he had been dreaming about growing all night, because it was the first thing that popped into his head when he opened his eyes. He pushed the sheets off and looked down at the mountainous pecs that weren’t there two days ago, covered with a dusting of orange fur and rising and falling with his deep breaths. He ran a hand over them, feeling the roundness and fullness of them, and chuckled. It still didn’t seem real, like a dream, but there it all was when he woke up. He wondered if he should tell anyone else, if he should report it in to the University so he could be tested and to make sure he was still healthy; as great as it was to get so big, he was worried about--

 

A fuzzy static washed over his thoughts and all he could think about was how badly he wanted it all to grow bigger, more and more, and he lost track of what he had been thinking about before. He remembered: he was getting up to go to the gym.

 

He rose out of bed, grabbed his U of M hat from the nightstand, and walked over to the bathroom, his heavy feet thumping against his hardwood floors. He relished the feeling of his thighs rubbing against each other as he walked. He flicked on the light and grunted in satisfaction of what he said; a heavyweight lifter, or maybe an offseason bodybuilder, burly and big all over. His square jaw was covered in a short-trimmed beard and his piercing blue eyes seemed to glow in the bright lights of the bathroom. He shrugged his shoulders and watched his traps tense up; he brought his arms up and flexed his chest and shoulders, watching the delts puff up into balls of meaty muscle; he raised his arms up higher and flexed his biceps, watching them swell into solid peaks. His pits stank; he hadn’t showered at all yesterday, but he liked the sour muskiness of his own smell, different from before the accident, more like a football jock and less like a lazy loser like he was before. He moved his arms down and jiggled the growing paunch of his tummy.

 

Finally he reached lower and grabbed his hard cock and started stroking vigorously, admiring the way the muscles in his arm and shoulder tensed and flexed and moved as he stroked. He looked at himself, awed by the size and bulk he possessed now, delirious with joy. He had never dreamed he would actually get to this size, and now, in two days, he had it all. Maybe he could be satisfied with this size and not have to—

 

Another wave of static washed over his mind and he couldn’t even hear himself think, couldn’t comprehend anything except the NEED to have more energy and get bigger. His thoughts were flooded by images of himself grabbing other, smaller people, siphoning size from them and draining their muscles, watching their surprised faces as they got skinnier and he got bigger. He imagined himself in the locker gym at his gym, cornering someone in the steam room and pinning them against the seat as he grew. He pictured himself in the shower with another, smaller man, wrapping his huge arms around them and squeezing and crushing them until he felt the energy pour into him. The energy, oh it felt good, he remembered now. It was orgasmic, and he had to have more of it, had to find a way to get more. His cock throbbed and twitched as he imagined utterly dominating someone like he had with Clint the day before and watching them disappear in his grasp.

 

Suddenly his cock exploded, splashing creamy white spunk all over the bathroom mirror, it onto the floor as Chuck twitched and grunted. There was a lot of it, more than he had ever shot before, and he grinned to see the mess he made.

 

He came to this senses a bit and could think straight for a moment, wondering how it could even be possible he was able to do this, how much more he would want before he felt normal again, but soon his mind was once again shouting at him to get bigger. He had to get to the gym and lift all day. He distantly remembered that it was Monday and he should be going to work, but that didn’t seem important anymore. Why would he want to do anything other than get bigger?

 

Chuck cleaned himself and went to get dressed but found it very hard to find anything that fit right. He decided to stop somewhere to buy new clothes first.

 

--

 

The desk clerk gave Chuck a raised eyebrow as he scanned his gym card. The picture on file didn’t quite match the burly meathead that had just come through the door, but he could sort of see a resemblance… like the guy in the picture was this guy’s little brother or something. The desk guy shrugged and waved Chuck in.

 

Chuck noticed the different way people looked at him now as he walked into the gym. Smaller people gave him a wide berth. The other big guys in the gym gave him a second look, sizing him up, comparing themselves to this new big guy. Chuck got a few looks from people who seemed to recognize him, but then turning away when he looked at them directly. He just smirked and headed to the locker room.

 

Chuck’s bag was full of new gym clothes. He unzipped it and found the new tank tops and shorts he had bought. They were comically too big on him, baggy and loose to the point of nearly falling off, but he had bought them too big on purpose. He knew he would grow into them soon enough. There were stretchy Under Armour shirts, leggings and compression shorts, basketball shorts, stringer tank tops, and stretchy briefs of varying sizes. There was even a new pair of shoes, bigger than the ones he was currently wearing, too big to fit him… for now. He pulled out a tight, white Under Armour compression shirt and pulled it up over his head. It was a 2XL, a bit big for his 275lb frame, and it had some folds and loose spots instead of hugging his body tightly like it should. He’d have to change that. He slipped into some stretchy compression shorts, which were more than enough to support his heavy package, and black basketball shorts. The shorts made his ass look huge, he noticed in the mirror on the way out of the locker room.

 

Chuck walked onto the gym floor and took a deep, satisfied breath. It was only 9am, and he had the whole day ahead of him. The clanking of metal and thumping of bad pop music made him feel right at home.

 

--

 

An hour later, Chuck was finishing a set of squats. The skin-tight white compression shirt he was wearing was soaked in sweat, and the black basketball shorts he was wearing were hiking up on his pumped up quads. He was still testing the limits of his new strength. He had lifted yesterday too, but he found he was even stronger today. He loved looking in the mirror and flexing after every lift, admiring the new size on his big body. He flexed his quads and watched them bulge out, thick as tree trunks, strong and solid. He adjusted his maroon U of M hat and watched his upper arms swell. They had to be close to 20” now.

 

He was getting tired though, and the buzzing in his head was getting harder and harder to ignore. He wanted to keep lifting, and there was an easy way to score some quick energy.

 

He eyed a muscular, lean black guy racking weights over on the next squat rack. Perfect.

 

Chuck went to grab another weight to add to his bar—he already had been squatting 405—and “accidentally” bumped into the guy, his beefy arm bumping against his shoulder. He reached out and gave into the thrumming need for more size raging inside him and felt a burst of energy surge into his body.

 

“Oops, sorry bud,” Chuck said with a grin as he immediately felt reinvigorated. It was like a breath of fresh air, or scratching an itch he hadn’t been able to reach, or that feeling when the first rush of caffeine hits you in the morning after drinking a strong coffee. It felt right, and it felt good.

 

The black guy backed up to give Chuck space and felt a cold sweat wash over his body. “M-my bad,” he said and he decided to take some weight off the rack instead of putting more on.

 

Chuck went about his workout like this the rest of the day: lifting for an hour, setting new PRs and throwing around weights he had only ever dreamed of, and then refueling on an unsuspecting lifter. Every time it felt like scratching an itch, or getting a drink of water, or blinking… something that felt so natural and so good he wondered why he ever felt bad about taking energy from people in the first place. He did legs—squats, deadlifts, lunges, calf raises; then back and biceps—lat pulldowns, standing rows, bent-over rows, shrugs, dumbbell curls, preacher curls; then shoulders—seated overhead press, upright rows, side laterals, rear delt raises; then chest—dumbbell bench press, inclines, declines, cable flies; then tris—pulldowns, skullcrushers, close grip bench; accessories, core work, even a little bit of cardio. In between lifts he leaned against the weights and looked over his muscles in the mirror, tensing his traps, arms, shoulders, chest, everything. He left sweat puddles where ever he went, evidence of his exertion. People around him stared at the big, sweaty brute in the U of M hat that they sort of recognized but couldn’t quite place, but Chuck didn’t notice. He was too focused on admiring his new size.

 

Every time he felt tired, he just took a little more. He shook hands with a smaller lifter who asked him to spot him; he bumped into a woman getting a drink from the water fountain; he high-fived a trainer he had chatted with the day before. He took and took all day, never getting hungry or tired because the energy filled him right back up. He walked to the locker room, realizing he had to adjust his gait to accommodate his bigger thighs. He was getting closer to waddling now, wide shoulders swaggering back and forth as he walked, barrel chest sticking out in front of him, thighs rubbing together. In the locker room, he weighed himself. He was 290. His sweat-soaked Under Armour dug into his biceps as he tensed them, and the fabric puckered where his delts met his chest, the big muscles fighting for space. The whole shirt felt tighter than just a few hours before. Chuck didn’t even notice that he had been lifting for 8 hours straight.

 

Eventually he noticed another, bigger guy walk into the gym. It was Eddie, one of the biggest lifters who came to the gym regularly. Chuck had always had a thing for the big Latino, admired his size and strength, was jealous of how easy he made it seem, turned on by his huge muscles. He licked his lips like a lion seeing an injured gazelle and felt a shiver tingle up and down his spine. Eddie was still bigger than Chuck by a lot, 6’4” and probably around 320lbs of off-season muscle. Seeing someone bigger than him made Chuck feel all the old insecurities about his size come rushing back.

 

Chuck lifted for another hour and a half, watching Eddie go through his sets on chest and tris. Despite Chuck’s gains, Eddie still outlifted him on every exercise. A seething, angry jealousy filled Chuck as he watched. He needed to have THAT size. He wanted it all for himself. But he held back and avoided Eddie on the gym floor. He didn’t want to make a scene. But he knew the big lifter liked to hit the sauna afterwards.

 

Finally Eddie was done with his workout and he sauntered back to the locker room, his stringer tank top dark with sweat, his tattooed arms shining and pumped. Chuck followed him.

 

In the locker room, Chuck took off his clothes and headed back to the sauna. He felt thick, powerful, and pumped. He took stock of himself in the mirror before following the big offseason bodybuilder into the sauna. Chuck looked like if a college football lineman had spent the last 15 years lifting hard and eating harder, a powerful mix of fat, muscle, and fur. He opened the steam room and walked in.

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30 minutes ago, evanw said:

Just like Chuck, I want more! (Installments of this awesome story, I mean.)

I'm trying to space these out one per day so as not to overwhelm people! And keep you thirsty bros coming back for more. 

Next chapter is one of my favorites in the whole story, so look for that tomorrow morning!

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