Ro20316 Posted June 11, 2019 Share Posted June 11, 2019 I love how James has gotten bolder. He really is a kinky bastard 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TQuintA Posted June 11, 2019 Author Share Posted June 11, 2019 Chapter 56 As soon as we recovered, we dressed, found some cleaning supplies in a closet, cleaned up our table, and locked all the cafeteria doors behind us. We were back in our bed and spooning within a half hour, and back on Charles’s demanding schedule. I woke up on Tuesday. My calendar was so full, I had to take stock of everything that was headed my way. Counting that day, it was just over a week until the invitational. Thursday was the last day of class, my philosophy final was due in one week, and the day after that was the invitational. And Charles had promised that the last week of training was going to be the hardest. This was going to be grueling. Luke and Dave were nowhere to be found until lunch. When they did show up at our usual table, they had huge smiles on their faces. “Pleasant honeymoon?” I asked. “Something like that,” Luke said. “What did you two get up to last night?” Dave asked with a leading tone. James unabashedly announced, “Chris walked across campus naked and then we fucked at this exact table.” Dave, genuinely taken aback, said, “I thought I was the dramatic one.” Luke’s big, cheesy smile was back. “That’s right, studs.” He pounded James’s fist, and then mine. “It wasn’t on Charles’s schedule, but last night was special,” I said. “I’ll say,” Dave said, hiding something behind his voice. I would have pried to find out what the secret was, but Charles was expecting us in the athletic center. And then the days began to blur together again. Lifting. Posing. Fucking. Sleeping. Wednesday. Class. Homework. Eating. Lifting. Dancing. Fucking. Sleeping. Thursday Class. Homework. Eating. Lifting. Posing. Fucking. Sleeping. On Friday, the absence of class made my world feel like a record that had skipped its groove. Charles filled in the schedule with some extra lifting, posing, and dance practice. I had come nowhere near close to mastering the intricate feats of the hard dance routine, but I had nailed down the simpler two. I could barely do a handspring with both hands, but Charles was my unquestioned lord and master, so I still tried to do the one-handed one. And on top of all that, I still had to write my philosophy paper. The schedule changed, but only barely. Eating. Lifting. Posing. Dancing. Fucking. Writing Lifting. Dancing. Fucking. Sleeping. Saturday. Eating. Lifting. Posing. Fucking. Writing Lifting. Posing. Fucking. Sleeping. Sunday. Eating. Lifting. Dancing. Fucking. Writing Lifting. Posing. Dancing. Fucking. Sleeping. Monday. Eating. Lifting. Posing. Fucking. Writing Lifting. Dancing. Fucking. Sleeping I woke up, and it was Tuesday morning again. I felt mighty and powerful. All my lifts were insanely high, my clothes were feeling tight in the arms and shoulders, but loose around my waist, which was somehow even more taut and defined than it had been a month ago. I could swear I had the beginnings of a ten-pack, and I thought those were only urban legends. I put on my favorite long-sleeved workout shirt so I wouldn’t need to put on a jacket, and I walked to my philosophy professor’s office. I put my essay in his mailbox, and I felt a relief wash over me. Somewhere deep inside of me, I knew it was an A paper. I don’t know how I had managed it, but I had. When I got back to my room, James was waiting for me in his workout gear. “It’s weigh-in today.” I was blasé about the whole thing, pretty sure I’d still be around 285. I might even had dropped a little weight. Sure, I could tell I was stronger, so I might have put on some muscle, but it was counterbalanced and redistributed by some weight I’d lost. I was beyond shredded. I thought I could see my muscle fibers before: I now was a relief map of fibers and veins. James was far from blasé. Ever since Charles had forbidden us from weighing ourselves, James was excited to see what his weight was. He had never put on so much mass so much so fast. He’d been hovering around 210-215 before Charles’s boot camp, and he had to know just how much he’d put on. We got to the athletic center and found Charles in the room he was using as his private office. He was standing next to a scale. “Morning, dudarinos. I know you’ve been praying for this day. So, let’s get to doing. Chris, you first.” I stepped on the scale, and Charles said, “Excellent. Right where I expected.” I looked down at my mass, as far as I could considering how far out my pecs jutted. “Can you read the display for me?” I asked. “290, silly,” Charles said. I’d somehow put on five pounds. “Aren’t I supposed to lose weight during conditioning?” I asked Charles. “You’re an odd one, that’s sure as sugar,” Charles said. “Now, James, you’re up, fella.” We all knew James had put on muscle—Charles had had him on my diet and workout plan—but when James stepped on the scale, I was blown away. 233. James came over to get a huge hug, and I took my opportunity. “Eighteen pounds in three weeks?” I whispered to James, dumbfounded. “That’s not biologically possible!” “Really?” James said. “You, of all people, want to tell me what’s biologically possible.” “Hey, it didn’t take me three weeks. It took me thirty seconds,” I said. “I hear whispering!” Charles said in his sing-song. “You two love-doodles really whisper a lot.” “Sorry, Charles,” we said in unison. “Good work, team!” Charles said. He turned to James and added, “You’re as big as me now, Mr. Shy-Pants.” The realization that my James had grown so big as to be the same size as this frightening mountain of man muscle hit me like a ton of bricks. Of its own accord, my 16-inch cock grew so stiff that it pulled down the front of my boxer briefs and workout tights. I felt like I was going to explode right there. “I’ll leave you to take care of that,” Charles said. “Be quick like bunnies. You’re under my control for one more day, and I won’t let you slack.” Once Charles was out of the office, James locked the door behind him and lowered the blind. “We’re fucking huge,” James said. I could see he was equally erect. I kept Charles’s desk between James and me. I had questions before we celebrated. “You didn’t Big Guy me while I was asleep or something, did you?” “Of course not. Besides, it only works if you hear it.” “Are you sure? I wouldn’t be mad.” “I tried it, of course, back during fall break, and nothing happened. I promise you, if you don’t hear it, it won’t happen.” “Chris, I put on 18 pounds. You can’t Big Guy me.” “Was Charles dosing us with something? He did always have the cafeteria ladies set aside our food, specially made.” “I don’t care. I don’t care if it was drugs, or if it was the power of suggestion, or if it was magic,” James said. “You look unbelievable.” “I look unbelievable?” I said. “Look at you. You’re getting massive yourself, there. Your pecs are so firm and round, your arms are so powerful...” James interrupted with, “And you’re about to drip pre onto Charles’s desk.” I turned to the side so my cockhead was over the floor, and not his desk. Through the door, that childlike singsong came in loud and clear. “I hear more whispers when I should be hearing someone slay a dragon. Make it snappy.” James moved over to Charles’s filing cabinet and pulled open the top drawer. “I was going to have Charles give this to you after the invitational, sort of as a reward, but I think we need its powers now.” “What is it?” I asked. James took something out of the top drawer and dropped it on Charles’s desk. “Open to November,” he said. “The calendar’s in?” I asked. I flipped to November, and there I was. I remember when I took that picture, I was bigger than the entire soccer team, and my cock was so big that I couldn’t fit in the modesty pouch. And now. “I look so tiny,” I said. “That’s because the man in that picture,” James said, “that hot man, that man who the photographer called a beefy motherfucker, is tiny compared to you. Your cock is four whole inches bigger, and you weigh a hundred pounds more than him.” Four inches? A hundred? My orgasm came so suddenly that I had no time to brace myself. The force was so powerful that it knocked me back against the wall in Charles’s office. Stream after stream of cum sprayed out of my cock. I roared so loudly that I actually felt my torso rumble. The sheer massiveness of my body was enough to send me into this height of orgasmic rapture. Seeing me cum, James brought himself to a quick orgasm with his right hand, watching my humongous body explode, objectifying me as though I were a porn video and not his boyfriend. As I stood there, trying to get my footing, leaning against the wall, we heard Charles through the door. “Super-duper. Change into some fresh workout clothes, and let’s make the most of this last day.” 26 1 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TQuintA Posted June 11, 2019 Author Share Posted June 11, 2019 Chapter 57 Dave drove the four of us to the convention center in the city. The car was a surreal experience. I’d been in it only two weeks ago, but in just those two weeks, James and I had gotten so big that the back seat was crowded with us, shoulder pressed to shoulder. And now I did need the seatbelt expander to get the belt around my pecs. “Don’t let your ego get too big, Chrissy,” Dave said. “Luxury cars always have small seatbelts. I was dressed in my nicest clothes—Dave insisted. James had my bag with my posing outfit; I was going to change after we checked in. Charles had arrived at the convention center before us to get our passes and itinerary, so we walked in through the front doors to find him. The first thing I did when I walked in was survey the other bodybuilders and muscle men who had been invited to compete. “It can’t be,” I said. “It just can’t be.” Luke, reading my mind, slapped my back. “Yep, buddy. You’re the biggest fucker here. There are some pros who go up above 300 in the off season, but for competitions? You’re still big dog.” My pants suddenly became tight. “Woof,” I said, trying to sound like I was playing along, like Luke’s comment had just rolled off my back, but I was betrayed by the doubt in my voice. “Do I detect a note of reticence?” Dave asked. “I don’t understand.” “I’m a fake. They’ll spot me for the fake I am. I don’t think I can do this anymore.” “Nonsense,” Dave said. “You have every right to be here.” “Do I? They earned their muscles. They’re athletes, Dave. You keep reminding me how much of one I’m not.” Dave burst out laughing. “Oh my God, Chrissy. You are taking this way too seriously. You’re not committing to anything. This is one bodybuilding show. You’re not going pro. You’re not stealing anyone’s livelihood. This is merely an opportunity. A key to a door that used to be locked to you.” “De-metaphor that, please.” “Let’s say you come to LA with me. To get a job in entertainment, you need name recognition. You’ve already got a little, but doing a good show here will give you a lot. Let’s say you take Nicholas Donner up on his offer to be his muse. To be valuable to him, you need a beautiful body. Doing a good show here will validate your beauty and raise how much he’ll pay for the privilege to photograph it. Let’s say you stick with your degree and go into medicine. To get into that career, you’re going to need a Masters, maybe a PhD. Doing a good show here will make you stand out from all the other applicants, making it easier to get into the program of your choice. This is just a feather in your cap, Chrissy. Enjoy your day. Don’t take it so seriously.” “Thanks, Dave.” “No problem. Just remember that beautiful speech in the next five minutes.” “Why?” I asked. Dave walked away from me into the crowd and shouted, “Angela! Matthew!” as he walked to two people who seemed utterly lost and out of place. Angela was a tall woman with a streak of gray in her sandy blonde hair and a look of nervousness on her face. She was wearing make-up, but the haphazard way it was applied gave away the fact that she almost never wore it. She was dressed in a maroon sweater and matching pants in an expensive-looking pair of flats. She had a death grip around her large black purse, as though letting it go would untether her. Matthew was a shorter man, only coming up to her shoulder, and his curly brown hair resisted being combed. His brown eyes sparkled with kindness, but he had a slight squint to them because he refused to wear his glasses. His cheeks showed the beginnings of smile lines. He was wearing a Christmas sweater and black denim pants. Somehow, the whole discordant look made sense when you saw his sneakers: this was a man who put on whatever was closest to him. “Angela and Matthew?” I repeated, shocked. “Are those?” James asked. “Yep,” Luke said. “My parents.” Dave led my parents back over to where the three of us were standing. When my father saw me, he tapped on Mom’s shoulder. “Angie, my glasses.” She fished them out of her purse and handed them to him. Dad put his glasses on and scrutinized his son. “Well, hello, Chris. It’s good to see you again. I like the blond. I might try it myself.” Mom put her hand on my shoulder and smiled. “It is lovely to see you.” Where was the shock? The surprise? The horror? “You two seem unfazed by my size.” “We follow you on Instagram and Twitter, Chris,” Dad said. “We’ve seen the steady progress.” “We ‘like’ all your pictures,” Mom added. “I have an Instagram?” Dave coughed and pulled out his phone. “So, all those pictures you’ve taken of me…?” I trailed off. “And about 9.000 more you didn’t notice,” Dave said. “So that wasn’t your account?” Mom asked. “Dave has been acting as my manager. He took care of it for me.” Seeing the tension that was about to build up, Luke took his cue. “We’ll leave you to the family reunion,” Luke said, leading Dave away. “Come on, babe.” “But I want to stay.” “I know you do, which is why I’m taking you someplace where you can’t add your color commentary.” With that, they melted into the crowd. Once Dave and Luke were out of earshot, Mom said, “I do think this is a bit extreme, but that Charles fellow assures me you are in prime health, and he’s sent me your medical records.” She looked me up and down. “You look eerily like Uncle Rudy, but he never got this big.” She shook her head. “It’s uncanny.” I hugged my mother and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you too, Mom.” Dad turned his cheek and leaned forward. “I love you too, Dad.” Dad got in a bit closer to size me up properly. “It’s hard to believe I’m your father. You’re huge. You could pick me up like a baby.” “One-handed,” I added, flexing my bicep. “That is quite impressive. That is the biggest arm I have ever seen.” He put his hands on my waist. “And yet you’re so trim.” His hands went back and forth between our two waists. He was dumbfounded to discover that mine was smaller than his, and he was a rather fit man. “How do you support that upper body with this little thing?” He knocked a finger against my abs, just a gentle knock, and the solidness of my core hurt his finger. “Ah. That’s how,” he said, blowing on his finger. “You built a retaining wall.” “Thanks, Dad,” I said, a little weirded out by how my dad was talking about my body. Dad let go of me and looked around. “So, we know Luke, and we just met Dave. Where’s the boyfriend?” I looked to my right. James had vanished. I turned around, and there he was behind me, cowering down so my parents wouldn’t see him. I gave him a look of mild amusement, and he waved at me sheepishly. “You got this,” I said to him. He took a deep breath and stepped from around me. “Hello, Dr…” Mom interrupted him by saying, “Sweet Jesus!” “What?” I asked, concerned. “This giant man was hiding behind you?” “Yeah,” I said. “He gets shy around strangers.” “Not my point. He’s huge, he’s big enough to compete, and he hid behind you.” This is the shock I was looking for. “You saw how big I was.” “Seeing and understanding are two entirely different things.” She turned to James. “I’m sorry for shouting. That was rude. You can call me Angie. This is my husband Matt.” Dad put his hand out for James to shake, and he just stared at it. “You don’t shake hands?” Dad asked. “He’s a hugger,” I said. A smile spreading on his face, Dad opened his arms wide, “Then come on and hug me.” Seeing my father and James hug was yet another thing to add to the list of surreal things I had experienced that day. “I’ll just wave,” Mom said. “I’m not much for hugging.” James nodded and stood next to my father, who looked James up and down from head to toe. “He’s a cute one, Chris. Walk with me, James.” With that, my father escorted James away to have a private conversation. “Don’t worry,” Mom said. “He’s just seeing if James is available to stay with us for part of winter break. We want to get to know him better.” Her voice had a mild sharpness to it. I knew this tone. This was the beginning of a guilt trip. “That’s cool.” “Since you’ve already spent a week with his fathers.” Her tone was intensifying. “A weekend,” I corrected. “And Thanksgiving,” she added, her tone even more pointed. And… I felt guilty. “I get it. I’m sorry. I didn’t know Thanksgiving was so important to you.” “Who cares about Thanksgiving? That patriarchal nightmare? We missed you.” “I’m sorry, Mom.” “I do understand, though. I was young once too. Though, I must say, my college boyfriend looked nothing like that young man.” “Mom,” I said, goading her a little, “are you saying my boyfriend is hot?” Mom remained un-goaded. “It’s an objective fact, son.” She looked at me and added, “Are his eyes purple?” “Violet,” I said. “Though he insists they’re blue.” “They’re medically fascinating,” she stated. Then, as an afterthought, she admitted, “And mesmerizing.” “I like ‘em,” I said, downplaying it. “And he’s bigger than I expected. Did he get you into weightlifting?” she asked. “It was more Dave and Luke who did that, but we workout together, yes.” “Are you going to be able to watch each other’s routines?” I laughed so hard I snorted. “What’s so funny?” “When you get to know James better, you’ll realize how funny it was to suggest he’d go onstage.” “You did say he was shy.” “Incredibly. And I’m not competing, Mom. I’m just doing a routine. I’m ineligible to compete.” “That’s right, Dave said as much.” She shook her head. “The soccer team? You never showed the least ambition or talent for soccer before.” “I still don’t. I’ll explain the whole thing at Christmas. It’s a long story. Right now, I want to know why you and Dad are even here.” “To support you, of course.” “I don’t follow.” “Well, we missed the senior showcase because it came up so quickly. We were all set to go to your soccer debut, but then I had to cover for a sick colleague. We’ve missed too many of your events this year.” “You knew about the showcase and the soccer game?” “Yes. Dave…” I interrupted. “Dave invited you? To all of them?” “Of course. We’re just glad we could finally make it to one. Although, it does feel a little silly coming all the way down here when we’ll just be seeing you next week anyways. But, I’ve never been to a bodybuilding show, and, well, I think it’s healthy try everything once.” She looked around the room and saw half a dozen men wearing only their posers. “Once.” She repeated. James came bounding back and grabbed me by the arms. “Matt invited me to your house for winter break. From the 18th, straight through Christmas.” My father slowly walked back and joined us. “It’s official.” “Dad, I have to ask,” I said, pointing to his sweater. “What’s with that ugly thing?” “I think it’s neat. Besides, I needed something to put over my t-shirt.” “T-shirt?” I asked. “Don’t,” Angela said, her hand going to her temple. Dad whipped off his sweater, and underneath was a light blue t-shirt, tucked into his pants, that read, in yellow letters, “Father of @SoccerTweetGuy.” “Dad, that is both horrible and awesome. Is that my twitter handle?” “Yep. Do you love it or do you love it? Or do you love it?” “It’s great, Dad.” “You should see the one he made for the soccer game,” Mom said. “Ever since he became this huge, hulking hero who looks almost nothing like me, I want people to know he’s my son. A father can brag.” “I think it’s awesome,” James said. “Thank you, James.” At that moment, Charles came from out of nowhere and threw an ID badge and a manila envelope at me. “Come on, schmoopsy. Let’s get a move on. Tickety-boo.” “Is he for real?” Dad asked. “Charles, these are my parents,” I said. “Charmed. Now, scoot, mister. Your routine is in just under an hour, and you’ve got to get changed.” Before I could even say goodbye to my parents, Charles railroaded James and me to the backstage area. 26 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post TQuintA Posted June 11, 2019 Author Popular Post Share Posted June 11, 2019 Chapter 58 I had expected a large, communal changing area, but I had a private changing room. It was a small room, but it was a private room. Meagerly furnished, it had a small wooden chair, a lighted vanity mirror, and a black metal coatrack to hang my clothes on. I don’t know what strings Dave had to pull to get it, but I would remember to thank him for it. As soon as James closed the door behind him, he locked it and leaned his back against it. I’d seen that look in his eyes. He was thinking ungentlemanly thoughts. “Not now, James,” I said as I pulled my pants off. “That’s not what I was thinking,” he said. “Wasn’t it?” After a second, he said, “That’s not all I was thinking.” It was less than an hour to my routine, and I was suddenly nervous because my parents were in the audience. And now James was being coy. “Well?” I asked, now standing completely naked. “Out with it.” James came over and began stroking my abs with his left hand. “I was just thinking,” he put his other hand on my shoulder and began tracing tiny loops with his finger, “that you’re so close to 300. So achingly close.” I could see where this was going, but I was enjoying the attention. James continued. “It seems a shame not to go out and give your best show. They audience came expecting to see a rising star of college bodybuilding. The biggest one.” “290 is plenty big. I’m already the biggest guy onstage. Maybe the biggest guy here.” “We can get rid of that ‘maybe,’” James added, lowering his left hand to my cock. It began to harden on contact. “That’s underhanded,” I said. “And if you wake my cock up, it’s your responsibility to put it back to sleep.” “I’d be delighted,” he said, moving his left hand lower to tickle my balls. “My official weigh in was 290 pounds. They’ll know something’s up.” “They’re not going to weigh you onstage,” James said, moving his lips closer to my ear to whisper. “And a guy like you, a guy who’s already so big, ten pounds might go unnoticed.” I was now at full mast. James fit as much of his hand around my shaft as he could and begin stroking it up and down. He started kissing my ear, his beard rubbing my check and neck. He moved his right hand to the back of my head and pulled me closer to him. “Fine,” I acceded. “Ten pounds.” “That’s my Big Guy,” James cooed. “My beautiful Big Guy.” I shuddered in the deep pleasure of the erotic euphoria, my entire body a current of electric excitement. I turned my head to kiss James. As I did, James backed away. “Fuck!” he said with a note of panic in his voice. “What?” I asked, coming out of my reverie. “Hand jobs count as sex,” James said. “Good rule to know.” “What do you mean?” I asked as I looked down. Even past my giant shelf of pecs, I could see my cock, enlarged and inflated to Himalayan proportions, pressing itself firmly into my pec cleavage. All trace of panic left James, and his wicked smile returned. “That looks absolutely delightful.” My cock was had thickened nearly to the size of a forearm—and not a weak one either, the forearm of someone Luke’s size. My balls were roiling in their newfound volume, each practically the size of a softball. The tip of my cockhead was nestled so gingerly in my pecs, but every breath in or out caused my pecs to heave, stroking my cock head. “I have an idea,” I said to James. “Get me something to strap this beast down for a bit.” Dutifully, James fetched my belt and strapped my cock to my upper thigh. The thigh and cock together were almost too much girth for the belt as my thigh was already much thicker than my waist. Once it was secure, I put James’s hand on my cheek. “Still want me at 300?” I asked. “More than anything,” he replied. “Well, then, you know what to do.” “Big Guy,” James said. “You’re my Big Guy.” I felt my muscles burst with energy and swell outwards as an intense fire of deep joy burned through my brain. Ten pounds might go unnoticed by the audience, but I could feel each pound push my body outwards beyond its known limits. My shoulders went wider, my arms rounded stronger, my chest pulled outwards. It may have been my imagination, but it actually felt like my waist pulled inwards. In the mirror I could see that I now definitely had a 10-pack. If they were an urban legend, then I was Bigfoot. As the growth hit my legs, my thigh/cock combo snapped the belt. I was an immense 300-pound behemoth with an 18-inch god-cock. Now free from its prison, my cock returned back to my pecs, but my pecs were now fuller, bigger, and harder, wrapping my cock in their grip. I flexed my pecs while pulling my torso up and down with my ab muscles, fucking my own pecs. I worked the tip of my cock harder and harder, flexing my pecs tighter, forcing in more blood until my cock and pecs blushed red like ripe fruit. James had pulled out his own cock and stroked himself mindlessly. I had never felt so powerful, massive, virile, or erotic. I turned to faced the mirror, and the sight of my giant cock fucking my giant muscles drove me over the edge, and I erupted. My arm flew to the wall to support myself, but it went right through the wall and left a hole. I pumped out more cum. With my other hand, I reached out for James’s shoulder to support myself but ended up pushing him to the ground. His cock also exploded, adding his cum to mine. I pumped out more cum. I threw my head back to get more air into my lungs. This huge body required a lot of oxygen, especially right now. I pumped out more cum. Still in the throes of it, I began grunting in time to my body’s vibrations. I pumped out more cum. James looked up at me in awe. I had trouble seeing him over my pecs. I could just make out his eyes and the top of his forehead. I pumped out more cum. Finally, I felt my orgasm subside. I collapsed backwards onto the chair, and it broke underneath me. “They were kind enough to give me a private room” I said, surveying the hole in the wall and the pile of splinters underneath me, “and I went and ruined it.” “Rock stars always wreck their dressing rooms,” James said, his pecs heaving. “They’re never inviting me back,” I added. “You didn’t want to come back,” James said. Changing the subject, he added, “Next time, can I fuck those puppies?” He pointed at my pecs. I laughed, loud and heartily. “I look forward to it,” I said. “Especially since I doubt I’ll be able to get this anywhere inside you.” “Where there’s a will,” James said. “But you’re right. It will be a lot of effort. And a lot of lube.” “That’s an understatement,” I said, standing up to begin getting ready. “It’ll be a lot of effort just to get this ostrich eggs into the poser I brought. Getting my cock up your ass will require contortion and the dark arts.” I reached up to wipe my pecs, and felt just how large my arms were. If I hadn’t been forced to do yoga every day for the last three weeks, I doubt I would be able to stretch my arm around my pecs to reach the front of them. As my arms flexed in full relief, blowing up like an overinflated football, James said, “If you keep growing at this rate, your arms are going to get bigger than your waist.” “I’m trying to get my cock to go down,” I said. “Save talk like that for our next fuck.” “Sorry,” James said, admonished. “So, what should I do now?” He, like the room, was covered in our cum. “Clean up. As much as you can.” With that, James was on his feet and licking off my chest. “I meant with a towel,” I said. “Where’s the fun in that?” James said between licks. “Besides, if I had to wait until after the show to feel up these mighty pecs, my head would explode.” Once James had gotten the bulk of it off me, I grabbed a towel and cleaned up the rest. “Are you just going to hide out in here the rest of the day?” I asked. James pulled out a change of clothes from the bag. “A gentleman prepares,” he said. “While you’re in there,” I added, “could you get my posers?” James pulled out my posers. It was bright gold, just like my Rocky thong had been, and unlike the posers I’d been practicing in all week, there was barely any fabric except for the prodigious pouch. “My posers are red,” I said. “The ones I practiced in all last week are red.” “This will look so much better,” James said. “You didn’t even bring my red posers, did you?” I asked. “Why would I do a foolish thing like that?” Getting the posers up to my knees was easy enough. Getting them over my thighs took a little effort, but once they were past the thickest part, they slid right up. I got one testicle into the pouch, and it fit easily, but the fabric fought the second testicle as I tried to put that one in. Once they were both in, I was convinced there was no room for my cock. Even flaccid, this thing was about twice the size of my original erect cock. But I fought and folded and futzed, and eventually got the whole thing in. I looked at myself in the mirror. It looked like I was trying to smuggle a watermelon. “They’re going to notice this,” I argued. “Maybe,” James said. “but so what?” “I’m going to get arrested for public indecency,” I said. “I will gladly pay your bail,” James said, kissing my shoulder. “This is sort of my fault.” I patted James on the head and took a deep breath. In the reflection, James and I locked eye contact, and his eyes flashed gold. “It’s show time,” he said. 34 4 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hardmuscl4life Posted June 11, 2019 Share Posted June 11, 2019 That was fun. I suspected you might do that to Chris at the show...you didn’t disappoint. The thing I really like about how you write a transformation scene is there is so much more going on. And you leave a lot to our imagination. Well done once again. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted June 11, 2019 Share Posted June 11, 2019 It's so sweet that his parents are there for the show and even better that they support him no matter what. He has become a beast and now it's time for everyone to see, I lowkey want a threesome between those three beast now that James is as Big as Charles. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post TQuintA Posted June 14, 2019 Author Popular Post Share Posted June 14, 2019 Chapter 59 I slowly made my way to the stage. My body was larger than I was used to it, and the hallways in the backstage area felt impossibly small. I was too wide to comfortably negotiate a hallway. To make matters worse, my poser was ready to burst. I had to walk with an even wider stance than I was used to because my thighs kept getting in the way of my balls, and my balls kept getting in the way of my thighs. The hallway felt too small with just my shoulders, but adding in everything else, I felt like a massive boulder in a small cave. I also felt heavy in a way I never had. The ten pounds of muscle was noticeable, but the weight tugging on my groin was significant and portentous. I had gotten so used to the weight of my cock and balls at their previous monstrous size, so I was surprised by just how damn heavy they felt. Adding two inches in length, the extra girth, and the mass of my enlarged balls… Quick mental math assured me that my entire package was half again as heavy as it had been. That explained it. Gravity was pulling down on that extra weight with a vengeance, my poser threatening to slip down even further. I was suddenly grateful that Charles had come up with three entirely different posing routines. My unquestioned lord and master had left it up to me which one I did today, so I was free to do the easy one and get off the stage as quickly as possible, especially with all this extra cock and ball-meat practically bursting from my poser. When I got backstage, I relaxed a little because there was more space to breathe and expand. While I waited in the wings, I went over the simple routine in my head. Nervous wasn’t the right word; I was anxious to have this whole thing behind me. I peeked through a slit in the curtain to take in the crowd. It was larger than I expected, but there were still some empty seats in the back. The space was so crowded, though, that I couldn’t find James, or my parents, or any familiar face. I was surprised to see so many TV cameras, and mildly relieved that they were all labeled with local TV stations. This was going to be on TV? Great. I had gotten caught up in my own thoughts that I only heard every third word they said over the microphone. Then, before I knew what was happening, someone was pushing me gently into a spotlight. I walked to centerstage and held a neutral pose for the audience to take me in. That alone caused an uproar. Just standing there, breathing, my immensity on full display, was enough for the audience to go mad. James would never forgive me if I just did the basic routine with the audience that raucous, so I decided to go for the intermediate routine. My music started, and I it the first pose: side chest. I flexed my pecs so fiercely that they nearly careened upwards into my chin. They ballooned so fully when I flexed that they pushed my arms further to the side—I almost lost the pose. The audience, somehow, got louder. “Fuck it,” I thought to myself and went into the third routine, the hard one that I’d never fully mastered. I went through the poses, one by one, dancing to transition from one to the next—dances I’d never have been caught dead doing at a party (pop and lock, the robot, every faux-breakdance move from the ‘80s), but the audience was eating it up. I had a little trouble keeping up with the rhythm, but just a little. It took just a skosh more effort to heft my new bulk, and I had underestimated just how big ten more pounds would make me. During my double bicep pose, I felt my biceps graze the side of my face, kissing my ears. They’d never done that before. My smile momentarily faded into a look of concern, but the audience either didn’t notice or didn’t care. That’s when it hit me: I could do anything on this stage, even fall flat on my face, and the audience would just cheer louder. Overconfident now, I leapt into the air with all my might, doing a half-twist to turn around, showing the audience my defined glutes and impossibly wide back. I was so glad that my back was to the audience when I landed because my entire package bounced and heaved, nearly taking the poser with it. I hit several poses in a row, all on the beat, feeling the music flow through me. I repeated my leap-twist to turn back to the audience again, giving them a face full of my overfull, jostling poser. When I flexed my quads, they fought for space with each other, and my cock and balls were forced so far forward I thought my poser would tear right off my body. The audience loved it all, growing steadily louder as I posed. I sucked in my waist and held a vacuum pose. The audience briefly fell silent when they saw just how little fat my body contained. But the silence was just as quickly broken by a tidal wave of cheers and applause. Dave was right. I am a show-off. The audience’s praise was addictive, and I wanted more. Waving my hands in an upward gesture, I goaded the audience to applaud harder, then went into my front lat spread, my lats reaching so far outward I could barely get my fists to my waist. The music was reaching a crescendo, so I did a few body rolls in time with the music. I even threw in a few unplanned disco points and arm rolls Vanessa had me learn “just for the fun of it.” The audience ate it up with a spoon. Just as they were about to foment into a lather, I pulled out my best pose: the most muscular. The room literally shook with their applause; even the stage rumbled underneath me. The song was dying down, which meant it was time for the coup de grace: the one-handed handspring. It was the one move that I’d never successfully accomplished even once, but I was feeling cocky. When I landed on my right hand, I held the handstand for a second—a move I had been able to do a few times—then completed the handspring. The audience didn’t know how to react. They’d never seen anyone my size with my definition, and they’d definitely never seen him move that way. In the end, all those weeks of rehearsal had boiled down to a two-minute routine. As the audience applauded, I bowed to accept the acclaim, and did another handspring (with both hands; I’m not crazy) back offstage into the wings. When I landed behind the curtain, my poser gave up the ghost and exploded. “Guess I overdid it,” I said. 30 1 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post TQuintA Posted June 14, 2019 Author Popular Post Share Posted June 14, 2019 Chapter 60 I thought I had been talking to myself, but I looked up to find two stagehands. They blatantly looked down at my cock, aghast and surprised at my nakedness and enormity. The stare had been going on for five full seconds, past the point of politeness. I waved at them sweetly and said, “There wouldn’t be a robe I could borrow to get back to my dressing room, would there?” The simplicity and honesty of the question brought them back to reality, and they exchanged looks with each other, unsure of what to do. They could barely hear each other’s suggestions because the audience was still applauding. I just wanted to get back to my dressing room. The stagehands provided no help until the stage manager, an aspiring bodybuilder in a form-fitting uniform with a headset, came forward with his clipboard. He held it in front of my genitalia, but even an entire clipboard wasn’t quite enough to cover the tip of my cock, which dangled below it. The audience was still applauding. Over the speaker, a voice called me back onstage for an encore. I hadn’t prepared for this. No one had prepared me for this. The stage manager was talking furiously in his headset at a volume just quiet enough that I couldn’t hear him. He looked desperate, and it seemed like the voice on the other side was continuously interrupting him. Suddenly, the stage manager shouted, “Because we’re not licensed for nudity!” But that didn’t end his argument with the person on the other end of the headset. The audience was still applauding, getting even louder, trying to lure me back onstage. This wasn’t going to end until I went back out one way or another. I picked up my poser to survey the damage. As it turned out, only one leg had snapped: the pouch—the most important part—was still intact. I put myself back into the pouch and held the frayed fabric together. “Got a pin or some masking tape?” I asked all three of them. One of the stagehands came running forward with a small handful of safety pins. When I tried to pin the poser back together, the meaty flesh of my thigh kept getting in the way, forcing the fabric back apart. I stabbed myself twice, so the stagehand stepped in to hold the fabric while I tried to pin it. Between his bulk and mine, I couldn’t reach the damn poser anymore, so the stagehand who’d brought the pins came back over to put the pin in. One pin proved insufficient—that thing was going to pop off any moment, so the stagehand added another, and another. It took all three of us and seven safety pins, but I was now decent. Thankfully, under the bright stage lights, the silver of the safety pins and the metallic gold of the posers blended together. The audience was still applauding as I walked back out onstage. I waved to them, and the volume grew more thunderous. The room had actually gone up a few degrees in temperature from the fervor. I approached centerstage and was joined by a presenter holding two microphones. I could see the flotilla of television cameras moving closer to capture the interview. A colony of photographers surrounded them, flashing pictures by the score. The announcer handed me a mike and spoke into the other. The audience quieted. “I don’t think anyone in this room is going to forget that routine anytime soon.” And they were cheering again. “Thank you,” I responded as humbly as I could, trying to get the audience calm again. The photo flashes were constant and erratic, so I focused on the TV cameras. I looked directly into each camera as I spoke, moving gracefully from one to the next. As I spoke, the audience calmed down, and all attention turned to me. It only seemed appropriate to start thanking people, so I thanked Charles and recommended him as a trainer to any serious lifter in the area. I thanked Luke for getting me into weightlifting in the first place. I thanked Dave for being my friend and my manager. I stopped before thanking James. I didn’t know if that would embarrass him too much. To explain the abrupt stop, I looked into the final camera and added, “And my parents for supporting my various pursuits.” “You are a relative unknown to the bodybuilding circuit, so tell us a little about yourself.” I was never a fan of extemporaneous speaking, but I mentioned my school, my major, my course load, my recent performing endeavors, and the soccer team. I clarified, “But the soccer team is a technicality, really.” The announcer stood dumbfounded at my eloquence. The photographers never stopped taking pictures the entire time I spoke. “All I can say is wow. Is there some special lady at home who gets this all to herself, or are you on the market?” the announcer asked. His tone of voice indicated he thought it was an innocent, safe either/or. I had to correct him of that notion. “Neither. My boyfriend is in the audience.” I was nearly blinded as the flashes intensified. I didn’t expect an out gay bodybuilder to be a story, but apparently, to these people, it was. In what was left of my peripheral vision, I could see a spotlight begin to swivel to find James. I looked up at the light technician and pointed, “And if you shine a spotlight on him, he will never forgive me.” The light technician stopped swiveling. “Is your boyfriend a big fella too?” “Yes, he is, and do let’s talk about something else. He doesn’t like being the center of attention.” There was a firmness in my voice that the announcer respected. “Alright, then,” the announcer had a devilish look in his eye. “What took you so long to get back onstage for your encore interview?” “The answer is indelicate.” “Nonsense.” I could immediately tell he didn’t know what the word “indelicate” meant, in part because he kept prying. “What caused the delay?” “You don’t shy away from the tough questions, do you?” I steeled myself and looked the announcer dead in the eyes. I was about to admit this in front of a crowd of strangers, my parents, and television cameras. “My poser was too small for me, and I burst out of it backstage. It took some lateral thinking, two of your stage crew, and a handful of safety pins to get me back into it,” I turned my leg to the side and showed off the safety pins. I held the pose, knowing every photographer and camera operator was going to want a good, close look at it. “So, no more dancing today?” “Not unless you want to turn this into an entirely different show,” I said. The audience laughed. One of the cameramen even laughed. The joke wasn’t even funny. “However, I don’t want to give you nothing, so…” I handed my mike to the announcer, turned my body toward the cameras, and did a double bicep pose. A constellation of photo flashes. The announcer stepped closer to my bicep, and as he passed it, I saw that my bicep was as big as his head. My arms were the size of a grown man’s head. “This is inhuman,” the announcer said, squeezing the muscle. A supernova of flashes. All the attention was getting to my head. Well, my cockhead. If I didn’t end this soon, I was going to burst out of my poser again. So, I relaxed the pose, pointed a microphone at my face, and said, “Thank you, you’ve been a terrific audience. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to change into something not held together by hope. Good afternoon.” Even though I could hear the announcer, the photographers, and the cameraman all shouting questions at me, I strode offstage and back to my dressing room. 32 2 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted June 15, 2019 Share Posted June 15, 2019 That show was perfect and now he will become a star. I bet the promoters are gonna start pilling uo to get him signed. Dave will be proud. Now it's time to celebrate Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hardmuscl4life Posted June 15, 2019 Share Posted June 15, 2019 Thank you for that. The experience of being on stage and the trepidation turned to unbridled showmanship was extremely well written. The self realization that one is a true show off is exactly like that. Well done. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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