Endymion shadows Atlas

[Mrrrowww]

W.I.P, might be edited or otherwise expanded in the future.

It was beyond erotic, though it always sickened Josh a bit afterwards.

He and his boyfriend of four years would turn on the TV in their modest flat and flip it to Fitness Planet. Every day at 8:00, Atlas (yes, really) would open the program with a close-up of his shit-eating grin and ultramasculine features. Then a slow zoom out to show the backside of his impossible figure, with a model globe twice as large as him poised above his shoulders. The towel draped along his butt lay practically taut, though it had a little give for the dimples between his asscheeks, which looked as full as bowling balls. His back looked as if it once had a perfect V shape, then had decided to warp into a W. Each part bulged obscenely, from the caps of his delts, the lat wings, horseshoe triceps, vistas of his back, the aforementioned ass.

Swivel to the equally unparalled front. His pecs runneth over, the nips turning slightly downward and probably blocking some of the beefcake's view. His traps  were halfway to his ears, and made his laughing form look like a minor earthquake. He was uncharacteristically shy about his biceps, which were as luscious as any other part of him, pushing his sides out and making his arms larger than his head. The abs looked like they were protuding, before quick drop-offs and clefts between them. Legs were to die for, thighs would dance casually and turn rigid now and then, forcibly splaying Atlas's posture.  Calves were recognizeably once diamond-shaped, now as big as a has-been Mr. O's neck. His dick and balls were covered by a white towel, which he rearranged to leave his backside exposed and his jewels covered. Josh had trouble estimating Atlas's unmentionables, but his balls were at least baseball-sized and the dick, well, when it moved it was a cucumber-sized...sausage.

Yet the overall effect was harmonious, as if one incredulity cancelled another. Atlas was the world's first and only of his kind. He blew every Olympia, every Universe, every masculine myth and virtual fantasy out of the water.

And you could, too. Or so the rest of the show went, without fail. Atlas would talk about his routine and "secrets," which smacked of self-actualization pablum, while trying to avoid showing off just how hot he was. Demonstrating exercises with his body made such modestly laughably futile.  He was a coy motherfucking beast whose show revolved around the humbly spoken mantra, that with a some determination, and a stop by his supplement shop in L.A.,  you could be as huge as you want. As huge as he wanted you to be. Pan to a dozen devotees, each with a chintzy name-tag and ear-to-ear smile. The cadre would grow  throughout the night's routines for about a month until they looked like half-titans themselves, at which point the show sent them off with jingle and an Atlas hug.

Josh and Frank were no slouches themselves in the physique department, but their standards had been upended ever since Atlas's "The Titan Project" had started a year ago. Frank worked at an area gym as a fitness trainer while Josh was a freelance programmer. They had a good thing going and decent sex. Their physiques were just about equal to the average fitness model's. Then earth-shattering Atlas came on the scene and Frank got this crazy drive to whip himself up into something more. At first, Josh was into it all, the drive, the worship, the dominance. Sometimes the two of them would fuck each other during the program. (Since the only real alternative was masturbating singly, anyway). Frank's gains were nice for both of them, too. Then Frank made the first trip to Atlas's store in L.A. and came back with three boxes of pills. Cue more growth, par with the wannabes on the program. It was insanely hot. Josh witnessed Frank grow as large as Phil Heath in the span of a year. (Or at least, as large as the Phil Heath of yore)

Then Frank moved to L.A., to pursue something, as he put it "larger than himself".

No shit. Josh wasn't really jealous or angry at the turn of events but wanted to redress things, so he naively emailed Atlas, sketching the situation as dispassionately as he could.

Atlas responded the next day with flight itenerary for this weekend, in Josh's name, along with a promise to meet in-person: "I think I have a solution that will please all three of us".
They met the following Sunday in a hotel lobby. Atlas was wearing sweats in an attempt to look more humanoid. He passed for a mere world-class bodybuilder, many of whom now had direct supply lines to his store. He smiled and waved Josh over to the booth. "Hey, man, nice to meet you". The pleasantries were unusually warm, sincere even, Josh thought as Atlas asked about living in San Francisco, his flight, the weather, his health. Five minutes later and both of them were ready to get down to brass-tacks."So, what do you think it'll take to win Frank back?" "I think you well know, and I'm here to fast-track the process". Atlas sympathized, said he was a late-bloomer himself but there was no skipping steps. He said his supplements worked on "actualized desire," whatever the hell that was, and that most people reached their full potential on it in no less than a year. Josh broke etiquette, pulled out his laptop and said "We both know that's not true, strictly speaking".

Josh had discovered something very secret, very original: the heart of the Titan process.

 It's true the pills were the key, amping up human drive and desire while perversely using those same linked hormonal and mentalstates to pump up the subject's physiology. It's true that this ramping up took time, and dropped off predictably for the users. Except for Atlas, of course, who remained beyond it all. The secret sauce, however, was a second drug cocktail, designed to knock you out for up to a year. Constantly dreaming, on the cusp of awareness, preternaturally sensitive and impressionable. Desire outgrew even its own boundaries in such a state of consciousness, letting the primary wonder drug work its magic. Atlas had gone under for who knows how long, stimulated by an audiovisual system and given a constant drip of the proprietary Titan blend until he emerged, the pinnacle of postmodern manhood.

Josh knew this. Josh wanted exactly this for himself, and believed Atlas might even share it with him.

Those terms were unacceptable. Atlas then offered Josh a new compound therapy, similar but untested and just as effective, in theory. Josh jumped at the chance, and Atlas proceeded to outline the details. Josh would be set up and kept in some style in this very hotel, in a similar state of limbo with the same drug mix for dreaming and growth. Instead of a custom audiovisual track guiding his growth, however, Atlas had added an extra pill, a third component which would increase Josh's libido and desire each time he came in contact with semen.
"Wait, so you want to pimp me out for an entire year?" Josh realized. "Well, yes, I guess so. For science." Atlas was doing that bizzare bashful pose again, trying to scratch the back of his neck nervously. He went on to specify that they would remotely monitor his vitals and there was no risk of disease, veneral or otherwise, during the trial. (More miracle drugs thrown in the mix, Josh thought). His paramours would be closely vetted and were all to be current users of the vanilla, street-market Titan process themselves.
"Fine, just give me a few days to arrange things". Josh spent the evening hacking even further into Atlas's online presence and installed several backdoors. He also snatched what looked like the presumptive guest-list. Crafting a custom program to spoof Atlas's, Josh altered the schedule significantly, ramping up his visitors and altering the monitor program tracking his vitals to his custom specifications, as well as changing the paramaters for his "guestlist".
Then he met Atlas again in the same spot, and it was lights out.

For the first month, Atlas cared for Josh himself, giving him enough foreplay and juice to head-start the trial. Now, Josh was almost as big as the new Frank.
Then it was open season, and Josh's tinkering started to bear fruit. From Atlas's side of things, Josh got one visitor a day, each of whom was signatory to a scrupulous contract explaining the limits and duties of their visit. Josh's body started blowing up, and Josh's numbers and proportions shifted beyond anything the wannabes had managed so far. By the half-way point, Josh was the second most impossible man on the planet, 300 pounds of immaculately formed and distrubuted muscle. Penultimate was peanuts, though, and Josh had known this before he fell asleep.
Josh's program entered its second phase, ramping up the secret visits even more and altering the data feed. Atlas noted that the trial's projections had Josh ending up as his little brother, approximately three-quarters of his size. The program's reported figures studiously developed along that projection, while the reality diverged. Josh was getting a dozen guests a day,then twice that, and his weight and figure at ten months grew equal to Atlas's. The visits were still invitation-only, but Josh's email worm had grown progressively less choosy as it worked to bulk up the guestlist.
By the end of it, Josh barely fit on the bed. He awoke to be greeted by the most incredible hard-on of his entire life. Stumbling drowsily to the bathroom, with his own body making pathing difficult, he flipped on the light and immediate came. And came. And came. He eventually calmed down, realized he wasn't dreaming and began to take stock of his new body.

By his inspection, Josh was easily Atlas's equal, and then some.  His raging hard-on reached his pecs  and measured over two feet. Luckily his handspan had increased a bit, so jacking off was more or less manageable with both hands on deck, as it were. His ass and thighs tore out any pair of pants he tried in the room, and his chest saw around corners before he did. Even his face had improved,  clefts and furrows, with a ridiculous jawline, all with the handsome aquiline nose and hazel eyes he had started with. His arms made gestures and simple manipulation difficult.  His waist had only widened a hair, to give his abs some space to develop. Taking it all in, Josh had some difficulty breathing, but nothing sturdy enough lay about to brace him.

"Knock, knock, sleepyhead. Big Bro is ready to play". Josh heard Atlas's voice, modest and sweet as ever, outside the door. Josh smiled, lustily. He was satisfied, brimming with everything he had wanted and then some. Now for a test drive, mano a mano. Then Josh thought it was high time for a spin-off series. The world was in for another paradigm shift. But first, Josh had to set 'Big Bro' straight on a few things.

 

[WrestlejockCT]

Oh yeah!  More PLEASE!

[Ro20316]

I wonder why Atlas gave the new formula knowing he would be surpassed. It's ineteresting i want to know why he did it.

[Lexfan]

On 2/9/2019 at 9:58 PM, Ro20316 said:

I wonder why Atlas gave the new formula knowing he would be surpassed. It's ineteresting i want to know why he did it.

You missed a turn - as I read it, Atlas had planned it to keep Josh smaller but Josh had managed to alter those instructions and Atlas may have a rude awakening facing him.  I hope this continues so we find out.      

[Lexfan]

Giving this a bump to encourage a second chapter