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Hey, Big Guy (Complete Story 6/25/19)

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Chapter 29

            Through struggle, patience, and a teamwork, James and I managed to get my swim trunks on and completely cover my junk.  The trunks were so tight that they dug into the skin above my knees, gripped every curve in and out of my ass, and showed just how elephantine James had made my cock.  Faith alone was keeping them on.  I was afraid to move, but I had to at least make an appearance at the lake.  James went ahead without me. 

            Slowly, very slowly, very very slowly, I made my way to the lake.  I had to swing my legs wide to avoid bunching the fabric.  I stopped at the end of the porch; the steps were going to be a problem.

            Doug and Henry had moved the deck chairs closer to the lake.  They were sitting there, blocking my straight path to the lake.  Each had a coffee mug of wine from lunch, and they were sharing a plate of figs.  Doug was wearing a sensible pair of roomy sky-blue trunks; he had the same pattern of chest hair as his son, maybe with a few wicks of grey in it.  Henry’s bathing suit was sea green, much tighter, and had a slightly scandalous cut to show off his toned upper thigh; I was shocked to see that Henry’s nipples were pierced.  I was also surprised that his piercings were tasteful silver handlebars, mostly because I didn’t know nipple piercings could be tasteful.

            I’d stared at James’s parents long enough, and I knew that delaying my descent wouldn’t let me avoid it, so I quickly thudded down the stairs.  I must have made a huge clatter because Doug and Henry turned around.  Doug’s jaw dropped open wide, and Henry pulled his glasses closer and further away from his eyes, not believing what he saw.

            Since they were looking right at me, I had to sell it.  I had to make it look like that I wanted to wear swim trunks that were this tight.  So, I puffed up my chest, spread my shoulders wide, and strutted—as much as I could—until I was completely in the lake. 

            James came up to me and threw his arms around my shoulders.  As we splashed around in the water, I could hear James’s parents talk about me.

            Doug started, in what he thought were whispers.  “Is it wrong that, now that I’ve seen his boyfriend in a bathing suit, I have an entirely newfound respect for my son?”

            Henry swatted his chest.  “He’s half your age, Doug.”

            “He’s twice my size.”

            “Our son likes weightlifting.  It’s unsurprising his boyfriend would too.”

            “I wasn’t talking about his muscles.”

            “Don’t be vulgar.”  Then, after a bite of a fig, Henry added, “It’s impolite to say, but I was shocked how...” he delicately picked a word, “present his privates were when we hugged.”

            “When I hugged him, I didn’t get close enough.  As big as his basket is, that pec shelf of his sticks out further.”

            “He’s your son’s boyfriend.  Be a gentleman!”

            “His ass belongs in your gallery for all the world to see.”

            Henry lowered his head slightly.  “True.”

            James and I heard every word.

            “Is that weird?” I asked him.

            “A little, but I’m used to guys finding you hot.”

            “There’s guys, and then there’s your fathers.”

            James shrugged.  “I know what’ll stop them from talking.”  He turned to face the shore and shouted, “Are you geezers going to sit there all day, or are you going to join us in the water?”

            Doug placed his hand to his ear and said, “Could you repeat that, sonny?  I don’t have my hearing aids in and I forgot to take my senility pills.”

            “Get in here!” James repeated.

            The swim was rather pleasant, until, a half hour later when Doug and I started roughhousing.  We had been splashing, and then, in a completely avuncular way, Doug tackled me in the water.  I momentarily lost my footing and had to flex my thighs to regain my stance in the soft soil at the bottom of the lake.  I felt the seams go, and my suit swam away from me.

            I was completely naked.

            The water came up to just below my nipples, so my junk was far enough below the surface for no one to notice, but then Doug came to tackle me again.

            I quickly backed away.

            “Had enough, vile fiend?” he said in mock victory.

            “No, it’s just…”  I walked over to James and whispered my predicament in his ear.

            James nodded, understanding.  “James has to go back into the house.”

            “If you have to go to the bathroom, just go” Doug said, pointing to the house.  “I didn’t take you for bashful.”

            “It’s not that,” James corrected.

            “Is he hurt?” Henry had concern in his voice.

            “No, not that.”

            “Then what?” Henry looked confused.

            I sighed and threw my head back.  “I lost my trunks.  I am completely ass-naked in front of my boyfriend’s fathers.”

            “What a relief!” Henry said, clutching his heart.

            “That was inevitable,” Doug said.  “You really need to buy a bigger pair.”

            “Can you two turn around?” James asked.

            Henry turned around without further prompting, but Doug locked eyes with me.

            I didn’t back down.  “If we’re going to play chicken, Doug, you’re going to lose.”

            Doug folded his arms in front of his chest.  “We’re all men here.  You don’t have anything I haven’t already seen.”

            “For crying out loud, Doug,” Henry chastised.  He walked over to his husband and forcibly covered his eyes, one hand on each eye.  Doug, defeated, put up no resistance.  Henry looked at me and said, “I’ll keep mine closed, Chris.  Jimmy, you let us know when the coast is clear.” 

            I dashed into the house, dried off as quickly as I could, and put on my largest t-shirt and tights.  When I went back out to the porch, the three of them were sitting on the wood, drying in the early afternoon sun.

            “We’ve voted,” Doug said.  “That was funny and not embarrassing.”

            “I don’t get a vote?” I asked, joining them on the ground.

            “I voted for you by proxy,” James said.

            “He told us about the calendar,” Doug said, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

            “I abstained,” Henry added, “if that makes you feel better.”

            “Three-nothing.  Wow, I completely lost that vote,” I said, laughing a little.

            “Two-one,” Doug corrected.

            “I was embarrassed,” James said.

            “To avoid further embarrassment,” Henry said, taking his in, “I think we should discuss sleeping arrangements for the rest of the weekend.”

            “Smart,” Doug said.

            “I’m more than happy to sleep on the couch,” I said.

            “You won’t fit on the couch,” Doug said.

            “We have no illusions, Chris.  We fully expect you and Jimmy to share a room.”  Henry contributed.

            “But we haven’t this whole week!” James insisted.

            Doug rolled his eyes and added, in an overly sarcastic tone, “Yeah, okay.  We believe you, son.”

            “That being said, this is a small cabin with thin walls.  It is in everyone’s interest to postpone any amorous activities until the cabin is empty.”

            “I wouldn’t have thought otherwise,” I said, my hands in the air, surrendering to his logic.

            “That goes for everyone,” Henry said, playfully kicking Doug’s ankle.

            “Yes, dear,” Doug said with a singsong lilt.  He turned to me and, pretending to whisper, added, “He thinks I have no self-control.”

            “Am I wrong?” Henry asked.

            Doug faked laughter.  “Don’t worry, boyfriend Chris.  When we’re on the far side of the lake fishing in our little rowboat, we won’t be able to hear anything that goes on in the cabin.”

            I nodded and thanked him.

            “Anything,” he repeated.

            “You made your point, Doug,” Henry said.

            Doug mouthed the word “anything.”

            The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly.  We talked, played a few games, and by the time we were doing the dinner dishes, James was completely relaxed.

            “Doug and I are getting up early tomorrow,” Henry said while drying the mugs.  “We want to get in some fishing.  We’ll probably be up and out by 7.  8 At the latest.  If we set the alarm, will we wake you?”

            “By 8 AM,” I said, “We will have been at the gym for a half hour.”

            “You go that early?” Doug asked, dumbfounded.

            “We do, every morning, whether I want to or not,” I added.

            Doug looked skeptical.

            “I know how this looks, believe me, but your son is the one who pushes me in the gym.”

            James nodded.

            Doug looked back and forth between the two of us.  I could see the lightbulb go off in his head.  “So that’s how this works?  Well, okay, Jimmy.  Work your man as hard as you need to.”

            “I’d be happy to make you breakfast before we go,” James replied.

            “Oh God no!” Doug said.  “That oatmeal kale stuff you make?”

            “It was a lovely offer,” Henry said, “but this is our first vacation in years, and I brought the waffle iron.”

            “Because he loves me, Jimmy,” Doug emphasized.  “People who love me make me waffles.”

            “What time do you two normally get up, then?” Henry asked.

            “5:30,” James said.  “Ish.”

            Henry looked at his watch.  “You’re going to want to go to bed soon, then, aren’t you?”

            “This past week we’ve been watching the sunset either from Chris’s bed or the couch, and then went to sleep.”  James sounded moony.

            Doug nodded.  “You and that,” he pointed at me, “just went to sleep.”  He nodded again, scrunching up his face into a grimace of mock-belief.  “Sure.”

            Henry lightly whipped his towel at his husband.  “You’re terrible.”  Then to his son, he added, “That sounds divine.”  He took the dish that James was drying out of his hand.  “You two get ready for bed.  We’ll finish up.”

            “Thanks, Uncle Henry.  Goodnight, Dad.”

            “Night, Jimmy,” Doug said.

            “Goodnight,” I said.

            “Just to be super clear,” Doug said, “the husband and I will be fishing tomorrow until at least lunch time.  Noon.  Maybe one.”  Then he added, with a note of mischief in his voice, “On the far side of the lake.”


            Doug shrugged and said, “They’re in their twenties, Henry.  They’re going to fuck.  I just don’t want to walk in on it again.”

            “Goodnight,” I repeated.

            “Night, boyfriend Chris,” Doug said with a small salute.

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5 hours ago, TQuintA said:


         “Just to be super clear,” Doug said, “the husband and I will be fishing tomorrow until at least lunch time.  Noon.  Maybe one.”  Then he added, with a note of mischief in his voice, “On the far side of the lake.”


            Doug shrugged and said, “They’re in their twenties, Henry.  They’re going to fuck.  I just don’t want to walk in on it again.”

            “Goodnight,” I repeated.

            “Night, boyfriend Chris,” Doug said with a small salute.

I'm dead lmao! I mean he's not wrong! I've waited in excitement for more of this story, thank you for the updates. All the chapters were great.

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OMG! Three episodes in a row, and only at the end of the last one it finally happens! You can definitely hold your readers hooked like no one else. Bravo :)


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On 4/26/2019 at 8:24 PM, TQuintA said:

Chapter 30

            The following afternoon, it was just Henry and me in the house.  James and Doug had gone to the store to do some more grocery shopping.  Each wanted to do it himself, but neither trusted the other to buy foods that were suitable for everyone’s needs, so they just went together. 

            I was wearing the button down and dress slacks James brought.  It was one of two outfits I could still fit into. 

            Henry and I had been sitting awkwardly in silence for five minutes when he said, “Your roots are showing.”

            I put my hand up to my head.  “Oh, sorry.”

            Henry started over, “I didn’t mean to criticize.  I dye my hair too.”

            “I thought so,” I said.

            “Oh, yes.  When I started to go grey in my mid-twenties—as all the men in my family do—I decided to just dye it whatever color moved me at the moment.”

            “White looks great on you.  Current and hip.”

            “Thank you.  I run an art gallery, and in order for people to take me seriously, I either have to look like a boring academic or the most interestingly dressed man in the room.”

            “You chose well.”

            “Thank you, young man.  I only brought up your roots because, if you wanted, I could touch them up for you while the boys are out shopping.  I think I have your shade.”

            “That’d be great.”

            Henry pulled a chair up to the sink and retrieved his supplies from his room.  I wrapped a towel around my shoulders—as best I could—and sat in the chair.  When he started applying the dye to my hair, he asked, “How do you normally do this?”

            “I don’t.  Normally, a friend from school does it for me.  It was actually his idea I go blond in the first place.”

            “Not Jimmy’s?” he asked.  Throughout the rest of the conversation, he was slowly applying the dye to my hair with the detail and skill I’d expect from an artist.

            “I went blond about a month before James asked me out.”

            “Jimmy asked you out?  That’s a surprise.”

            “It took him four years to do it.”  I chuckled.

            “That sounds more like my son.”  He paused, then added, “I don’t mean to be indelicate, but I have to protect my Jimmy.”

            “By all means,” I said.  “It’s been that kind of weekend.”

            “You’re not just using my son for sex, are you?”

            “Of course not.”

            “Good.  Because I know my son is attractive, but you’re his first boyfriend.”

            “Actually…” I started and then stopped.

            When he realized I was holding back a secret, Henry firmly but kindly said, “Finish that sentence.”

            “It’d be betraying his confidence.”

            “But it might be winning mine,” he argued.

            Resignedly, I said, “James was a virgin before we started dating.”

            “Obviously,” Henry replied.  “Jimmy’s pathologically shy.”

            “No, what I mean is, he was a virgin until Wednesday.”


            “He wasn’t ready, so I didn’t push him.  I let him call all the shots the first time.”

            “Good boy,” Henry said, finishing his last brushstroke.  “In the spirit of honesty, I have something to confess too.”

            “Oh?”  I moved away from the sink and sat on a chair away from the windows.

            “I peeked.”

            “I don’t follow.”

            “Yesterday, in the lake.  When you lost your bathing suit.  I peeked.”

            “Ah,” I nodded.

            “Is that it?  No recriminations?  No accusations of hypocrisy?”

            “Did you enjoy the peek?”

            “You have astronomical proportions.  Do you suffer from lower back problems?”

            I laughed, and Henry and I gossiped until the chemicals in my hair had set.  Henry shared his pet theory that James took so long to come out because his father being gay drove his mother away.  He rinsed my hair as I told the story of how James and I met, all the way up through our first kiss.  I dried my hair while Henry told me about how Doug was initially his therapist, but then Doug found Henry a new therapist so he could ask him out.  We didn’t realize any time had passed until James and Doug returned.

            “Barbecue!” Doug announced as he walked in with three grocery bags full of supplies.

            “Protein, of course!” Henry said.  “The perfect compromise.”

            “Chicken for the boys, burgers and dogs for us fogeys.”  Doug put his bags down and added, “Boyfriend Chris, help me get a fire started out back.”

            We walked down to the fire pit and got the fire started rather quickly.  Then, Doug stopped me from going back inside.

            “I have to ask a few more questions,” he explained.

            “Go for it,” I said.  “It’s been that kind of weekend.”

            “Jimmy’s not one to lie to me.  Were you really sleeping in separate rooms this whole week?”

            “That’s your question?”

            “I need to make sure my son is handling the sex part of this new relationship.  I have to protect my son.  I don’t know what he’s like around you and your friends, but if I even broach the subject of sex at home, he turns bright crimson and runs away.”

            I nodded in understanding.

            “So, was it true?”

            “Yep.  We slept in separate rooms all week.”

            “That’s disappointing.  So, I didn’t walk in on you two having sex?”

            “No, you very much did.”

            Doug sighed in relief.  “That’s a load off.”

            “You walked in on us having sex for the first time.”

            “You’ve been dating for a month.”

            “And that was our first time.  That was James’s first time ever.”

            Doug’s face grew severe.  “Oh!  I was just so excited to see him.  I didn’t scar him, did I?”

            I exhaled sharply.  “I don’t think so.  We had a quickie in the shower while you and Henry were fishing this morning.”

            Doug laughed.  “Henry and I had a quickie in the shower while you two were at the gym.  Like father, like son, eh?”

            “You do bear a striking resemblance.  At least, physically.”

            Doug looked me up and down, and then, unbidden, asked “Do you have any tattoos, boyfriend Chris?”


            “Henry has David Hockney’s signature tattooed on his ass.  It’s a crazy story.  But that tattoo just drives me wild.  If my son’s anything like me, you might want to consider getting one.”

            I said nothing.  James was right.  His father is an over-sharer.

            “I know what you’re thinking, boyfriend Chris,” Doug said, clapping me on the back.  “He got the shy from his mother.”

            “That explains it,” I said.

            “Since we’re being honest and open,” Doug continued, “I should let you know that I saw everything.”


            “At the lake yesterday.  I could see through Henry’s fingers, and I didn’t tell him.  I got a good eyeful.”

            “Sounds about right.”

            Doug kissed his fingers like a chef, then said, “Bravo.  It was breathtaking.  My son has excellent taste.”

            From the house, James shouted, “Is that fire ready?”

            “Good to go,” Doug said in his usual chipper tone.

            When James went back inside to get the food, Doug placed his hand on my upper back and said, “I like you, Big Guy.”

            A button popped off my shirt.

This story brings me back to the first muscle growth fantasy I ever had... And then makes me feel like a virgin again.  What a great writer and character development.  😅👏👏👏👏👏👏🍆

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Chapter 31

            I had no time to enjoy the rush as I surged bigger.  At the same time, I had to get out of Doug’s immediate vicinity (without making it seem like an insult) and do something that took a lot of exertion (to explain the missing button).

            “We need more wood,” I said, jogging up to the house to get a few more logs from the porch.

            Doug surveyed the small fire. “I suppose it could be bigger.”  He didn’t know the half of it. 

            In the woodpile there were two huge logs, each about the length of my body and the thickness of my leg.  They were ridiculously big for our barbecue purposes, but I grabbed one in each hand.  The thought was that the logs would be too heavy, causing me to drop them and, thus, explaining my missing shirt button.  However, I underestimated my strength.  I was able to lift them.  They were surprisingly heavy, and I could feel my arms flexing and twitch to support the weight.  My chest heaved and bounded with each step, popping a second button.  Even my legs tensed with the exertion.  Of course, this brought my balls to the forefront.  They were already squeezed into too-tight pants, and now my legs were taking up even more space.

            I walked back to the fire, one log in each hand, and Doug stared the whole time.  When I placed them next to the fire pit, Doug looked at them and said, “That should last us through winter.”

            I was momentarily relieved that I seemed to have pulled it off, when Henry and James joined us outside.  One look at me, and Henry said, “Did you somehow get bigger, James?”

            Doug pointed to the wood and said, “Boyfriend Chris decided he needed to show off and ruined his shirt in the progress.”

            “He does look bigger,” James said, providing me some cover.  “I guess carrying the logs gave him a little pump.”

            Henry cocked his head to one side and accepted that explanation.

            I spent the rest of the weekend with my shirt completely unbuttoned and the zipper on my pants slightly undone.  They already thought I was body-obsessed and a show-off, so this didn’t change their opinion of me one jot.

            Friday night and Saturday were largely uneventful.  James’s parents are indeed cool, and, once James relaxed, we had a really good time.  And way more sex than I expected with his parents so close by.  But we never heard them, and they never heard us, so it was all copacetic.

            We found out on Saturday morning that our visitors’ passes to the gym were expiring at the end of business that day, so if we came back on Sunday, it would mean either buying another visitor’s pass or paying the day rate.  Considering classes were starting back up on Monday anyway, we decided to leave Sunday morning rather than Sunday night.  Doug and Henry understood.

            When I went to shake hands goodbye, I stopped myself and hugged Henry tightly, lifting him off the ground.

            “That’s how you say goodbye in this family, right?” I said after putting him down.  Henry steadied himself, a little breathless and winded.

            Doug opened his arms wide and said, “My turn.”  So, I gave him the same giant lifting-hug.  And we were on our way.

            For the two-hour ride back, I was shirtless and left the front of my pants unzippered.  It was such a relief to let it all hang out after my balls had been strangled for two days.  I also realized the car was too small for me.  I couldn’t spread my legs as far apart as I wanted to, the seatbelt struggled to get past my pecs, and my slightest movement caused me to elbow or shoulder James.

            “If you keep making me swerve,” he teased, “I’m going get pulled over for drunk driving.  With you hanging out for the world to see, the cop will take one look at you, and a porno will spontaneously happen.”

            “I am as my boyfriend made me,” I responded.

            About ten minutes outside campus, I got a text message from Dave asking if we’d be back in time for lunch since he and Luke were ordering in.  I said we were and to order extra.

            “How are we going to explain this to Dave and Luke?”  I gestured to my muscle-swollen body.

            “They’ll put two and two together.”

            “And get fifteen,” I said, pointing to my cock.

            When we parked the car, I had James run interference as I tucked myself back into the confining dress pants and put on as much of the dress shirt as would fit.

            I was thankful James had made me do all the running over the break because I could easily negotiate around my legs, but my shoulders were going to be hitting a lot of doorframes again.

            The four flights up to my room took forever.  I had to swing my legs up and over each individual step.  If I didn’t, the seat of my pants would blow, and if these went, I had no clothes of any sort left.

            I opened the door to my dorm room and found Luke and Dave curled up next to each other on Luke’s bed, watching a sappy telenovela.  I closed the door behind James and announced our presence with, “We’re home.”

            Reflexively, Dave looked up to greet us.  “Hey…” he started, but then he saw me.  “Sweet merciful Zeus, Chrissy!”

            Luke hadn’t looked over at us yet because he was pausing the show.  When he did, he sat up so quickly he knocked Dave out of the bed.  “Holy fucking fuck!”

            Dave stood up and dusted off his pants.  “How big are you?”

            “225 at last count,” James said.

            “230,” I corrected.

            “Right.  Dad.”

            Luke was grinning impishly.  “His dad grew you some?”

            “By accident,” I clarified.

            “I don’t care what you say,” Dave said.  “Just keep talking.  This deeper voice works on you.”

            “It works on me too,” James added.

            Dave came over and stripped off my shirt, undid my zipper, and forced my pants off my legs.  “Let’s see what we’re working with, here,” Dave said.

            I had spent the last few days focused on James’s body, and then his parents, so I hadn’t taken it all in either.

            I stood there naked in front of three men who used to be so much bigger than me, and now I was noticeably bigger than all of them.  I never felt bigger in my life.

            Luke opened his closet so I could share in the exploration with them.  My body didn’t fit entirely in Luke’s mirror anymore.  My shoulders were just too wide.  My neck was thicker than my head, and my traps were starting to climb up in an effort swallow my head, and that would be a shame.  All the testosterone my balls were producing had transformed my face.  Before, I’d been somewhat attractive.  Now, my face radiated masculine perfection.  My brow ridge had intensified and my cheeks looked somewhat hollow, making my face more rugged and sculpted.  My jaw had thickened and broadened.  I even had a slight beard shadow.

            I reached up to touch my face, and my bicep bunched up and ballooned into two distinct mounds of power.  My arm in the air, I realized that my armpit created the same cavern I had admired on Luke’s body, but mine was deeper and more severe.  My lats stretched further outwards, my triceps further backwards, and now my arms hung like a bodybuilder’s.  I couldn’t deny it any longer; I was as big as a bodybuilder. 

            My pecs were perhaps my favorite, even though they were obscuring more and more of my view as I grew.  My nipples had been forced downwards because there was nowhere else for them to go.  I had round, large, swollen pecs, distinct globes jutting off my body.  Tempted, I flexed them individually, and all the lines of individual muscle fibers easily burst into view.

            My abs were so intense they looked furious.  They felt like warm, living steal, and all eight of them stood out even when I relaxed.  I decided to suck in my abs—I think real bodybuilders called it a vacuum pose—and I saw just how minuscule my waist was.  It looked like I had to distinct halves of my body, held together by the thinnest thread.  I exhaled, and all eight abdominals reformed their cinderblock wall.  My waist had gotten thicker, it was clearly thicker than Dave’s now, but because I was still as taut as Luke and somehow still smaller than James, on my enlarged frame, it actually looked like it had shrunken.

            My ass had gotten so prodigious that I could see it from the front now.  I could see the edges of my own ass from the front.  I reached back to feel it, and it was round and mighty.  I flexed with all my might, and I could feel the individual muscles.  My thighs were definitely bigger than my waist now.  I actually looked a little shorter because I had to stand with my thighs further apart than normal, but that added to just how thick I looked.  Even relaxed, I could see the divisions in the muscles, and my calves looked like square-cut diamonds sticking out the back of my legs.

            “Thank you for ten miles a day of running,” I thought to James in my head.

            When I saw how much bigger than James I was, the whole thing because unbelievably surreal.  This man who had been, just a month ago, so much bigger than me that I wondered how huge his body was—I now surpassed him.

            James, practically reading my mind, stood in front of me and flexed his right arm in the mirror.  I stood behind him and flexed, and in the mirror, my peak rose higher than his by a clear height.  Inspired, I moved him behind me and stood immediately in front of him.  I could still see his forehead (he was taller than me), and his waist and hips peeked out from behind mine, but in every other way, my body completely blocked his.

            It was so hot that my cock woke up and joined the party.  Seeing it rise in the mirror, climbing higher than my navel, almost kissing the bottom of my pecs, I almost came right there, unsurprising considering the massive nuts dangling in the sack below my shaft.  They had no room between my thighs, so they were pressed out front and center.

            Dave snapped me back to reality by talking.  “Judging by this dinosaur,” he pointed at my cock, “I take it you’re not a virgin anymore, James?”

            James broke into a proud smile.

            Luke slapped him on the back.  “Alright, stud.  Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

            James, trying to suppress his rising blush, nodded.

            “We need more than that,” Dave said.

            James shook his head an emphatic no and lost the battle against his blush.

            “Alright,” Luke said.  “We’ll get all the squishy details from Chris.”

            “Thank you,” James said in obvious relief.  “Maybe do it when I’m at class so I’m not there?” he added.

            Class!  Classes started back up tomorrow.  “Dave, is there anything in my closet that will fit me?”

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Chapter 32

            Fearing this exact scenario, Dave had squirreled away some super-stretchy clothes that, according to him, were “just fashionable enough” to last me until we could custom order some more. 

            “They’re monochromatic and functional,” he said, stretching one out to its full size, “but they’re better than anything we could get for you at the mall.  That’d be all tank tops and basketball shorts.  I’m not going to have you dressed like a gym bum just because you look like you sprinkle steroids on your oatmeal,” Dave chastised.

            “But your Luke…” I started.

            Anticipating my argument, Dave interrupted.  “Athlete,” he said, holding his hand in front of Luke.  “Can’t kick a ball in a straight line,” he added, moving his hand in front of me.  “Athlete,” he continued, moving his hand back in front of Luke.  “Tripped three times during his tryout,” he finished, moving his hand back in front of me.  “You have to dress the part you play.  In your case, that means bespoke.  Face it, Chrissy; you’re a fashion model. "

            “I’m a chemistry major who wants to work in medicine,” I corrected.

            “And you could be on the cover of a magazine.  Your point?”

            I looked down again, and my chin almost bumped into my pecs.

            “I surrender.”

            “Good,” he said, pulling up an app on his phone I had never seen and filming me, still nude, in 360.  He typed a few things into his phone, and after a minute, told me, “They’ll be here Friday.”

            “So fast?” I asked.

            “I knew this was coming sooner or later, so I got some of the most promising fashion majors to use you as their midterms.”

            “Why would they agree…” I started, when Dave interrupted.

            “I have to film you nude for the app to work.”

            I had no further questions.

James happily took the clothes from my closet that fit him, and Dave donated the rest to the theater department.  “This way mother can write their costs off as a donation,” Dave explained.

            Thus began another week of adjustment.  Because of the grueling schedule James had me on during fall break, the increased workouts felt normal, but it was a head trip to suddenly be the biggest guy at the gym.  The straight guys who used to glower at me now treated me kindly and even gave affectionate fist bumps and words of encouragement.  Or, as Luke charmingly put it, “The alphas who fronted you now bow before their king.”  I was lifting more than anyone in the room, even James and the trainers.  In fact, for my one rep max on the pull-down, I had to set the machine to its highest setting. “What if I outgrow this gym?” I asked. 

            “We go to the athletic center,” Luke answered.

            “Oh, yes,” that was actually a comforting thought.  “That might help me adjust because I wouldn’t be the biggest guy anymore.”

            Luke zigged his head back and forth.  “No,” he agreed, uncertainly.  “But you’re bigger than half the football team, and there’s only one wrestler bigger than you.  You’re top 10, easily,” he clarified.

            I dropped the bar and the weights crashed to the floor.

            “You’re kidding.  There’s no way!”

            Luke shrugged.  “I shit you not, buddy.  You’re that immense.”

            “And none of them are hot,” Dave added.  He waved a hand in front of his face, “Gargoyles.”

            That elicited a chuckle from James, and we finished our workout in general silence.

            My favorite part of our new, longer workouts, was the blowjob James gave me at the end of it.  James, as divine providence would have it, had no objections to public sex as long as he got to keep his clothes on and there was a door between us and other people.  That seemed like splitting a hair to me, but I wasn’t going to argue.

            We had to use the handicapped accessible stall because the others were too narrow to fit us both.  I would stand with my legs on either side of the bowl, my cock pointing forwards.  James would be on his knees between me and the door.  He still couldn’t take my whole cock, but he could now fit three quarters of me down his wet, tight throat, and he was taking a little bit more each time.  Every time I came, he enthusiastically swallowed every last drop.

            I always had to leave the stall first, to make sure the coast was clear, but our post-workout ritual was quickly my favorite part of the day.

            Classes were becoming harder to sit through, though.  My first class as one of the ten most muscular men on campus was calculus on Monday morning, I got to the room super early so I’d be the first one in.  Doing my best to avoid one side of the doorframe, I banged my shoulder on the other, and I swear I saw the wood buckle.  I knew better than to sit in my old seat in the front row, so I took a seat in the back row.  My ass spilled over both sides of the chair.  Because my ass muscles were too hard for the metal bars of the chair to press into my flesh, I had to sit much farther forward than I was accustomed.  My legs had to press so tightly together that my balls were pressed into the underside of the desk.  Thankfully, this room, like most of my classrooms, was just tables and chairs, so I could pull out my chair and give the guys some relief.  However, that meant I was further away from the table.  As I was also further away from the back of the chair, I felt precariously perched on the far-too-tiny chair.  On top of that, no one wanted to sit next to me because, all by myself, I took up two-thirds of a table designed for two people. 

            And if my pecs were a minor obstacle 45 pounds ago, they were now a complete hindrance to my education.  I was accustomed to take a hunched stance when taking notes, getting up close and intimate with the knowledge.  I still wanted to, but trying to do so set an inescapable chain of events into motion.  I had to nearly bend in half to look over my pecs, which meant my bicep had to fight even harder for space to take notes, which caused it to flex bigger and further into my line of sight, which made my cock stand at attention, which means I had to move further away from the table to give it some space, which made it that much harder to write.

            By Wednesday, I began bringing a plastic storage box to all of my classes.  I could rest my notebook on top of it, meaning my notes were closer to my face with my pecs out of the way, which prevented the whole chain.  Of course, I didn’t bring it to chemistry lab; it would hinder my ability to perform the experiments.  The lab coat at this point was more of a lab suggestion.  I couldn’t button the top three buttons, and the fourth button looked like it was going to give.  All adjustment periods come with challenges.

            But they also come with rewards.  Walking around campus was actually easier than it was before fall break.  I was so big that people would make room for me, flowing around me to either side.  I felt like a shark swimming through the waves.  And one of the more functional garments Dave had bought for me was a reinforced pair of boxer briefs that lifted up my weighty package.  The support was nice; no more bouncing around for me.  I especially liked the bowling-ball bulge it made in the front of my pants.  It always got stares.  And the more stares it got, the more rapacious James became.  I began flaunting my package just to get James worked up.

            It worked.  James and I began spending a lot more time together.  Sometimes he’d top me; sometimes he’d blow me.  Once James got over his initial reluctance, he was insatiable.  Just those five days waiting for the new clothes from the fashion majors, we had sex at least a dozen times.

            “I’ve got to make up for lost time,” he explained during one of our liaisons, all the while licking the tip of my head while tickling my balls.  I didn’t care what his reason was.  I was a happy boyfriend.

            He even ordered what he called “homework.”  They were a series of sex aids and toys (he of course used a pseudonym and a discreet website) guaranteed to stretch his asshole open wider and wider, an exercise he began incorporating in his daily regimen so he could accommodate my monstrosity sooner rather than later.

            “I know what I want for Christmas,” he explained during another one of our trysts, all the while ramming into my prostrate full speed.  I admired his ambition.

            Friday morning chemistry lecture was the last hurdle to clear until my new clothes arrived.  I couldn’t bring my storage box to that class—the desk was too narrow.  Dave and I walked to class together, and I asked him if we could sit in the back row so I didn’t distract too many people during class.

            Reluctantly, Dave agreed, and we trudged to the top row.  Dave picked a seat in the middle of the row, but when I went to sit next to him, I couldn’t.

            “Why haven’t you sat?” Dave asked.

            I had to laugh.  “I don’t fit,” I said.

            “Nonsense.  Your ass isn’t that massive.”

            “It’s not my ass,” I tried sitting again to show him.  My thighs had gotten so thick that, between the two of them, I didn’t fit between the arm rests.

            “Hold it,” Dave said before I could extricate myself.  He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.  “Okay, now you can get up.”

            I tried three more chairs, all with the same problem.  “What can I do?” I asked.  “This is my major.  I need this class.”

            Dave stood up, took my hand, and walked me all the way down to the front row.  The front row started two seats further in than all the other rows to allow room for students with wheelchairs.  The third seat in had a handicapped accessible logo worked into the fabric.  “Observe,” Dave said as he lifted the side of the chair off and put it on the floor.

            “But I’m not handicapped,” I insisted.

            “Skateboarders use curb-cuts,” he said.  “Don’t act so high and mighty.  You already use the accessible stall at the gym for a far less noble purpose.”

            I sat in the chair and let my leg stretch out to the side.  There was enough room for my legs, my ass, and my junk.  “I’m sorry I doubted you.  This is perfect.”  I reached to the right-hand side and was delighted to see the hinged desk attachment was also extra wide, so it would fit my arm, my notebook, and my textbook.  “Thank you, Dave.”

            Dave sat next to me daintily.  “I wanted to sit in the front row, anyways.”

            Because we got there so early, the other 148 students paraded past us one by one, each one marveling at my massiveness.  When Victor came into the room, he stopped dead when he saw me.  His face went white, and he began staring.

            “Hello, Victor,” I said.

            “You’re huge,” he said.

            I flexed my right arm and held it up to him.  “You noticed.”

            Victor made a hasty exit.  He came back five minutes later with his polo shirt untucked and a flush in his cheeks.  He walked over to me and said, “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”  He wanted to say more, but the professor came into class and started the lecture.

            At lunch that day, Luke got a text message that the fashion majors had all aced their midterms and would be more than happy to give me my new clothes.  Once we were all finished eating (I was horrified to learn I now ate twice as much as Dave), we went back to my room. 

            On the way back, Dave kept talking up how high quality this merchandise was going to be.  “The best part,” he crowed, “is I told them to save the patterns.  So, if Chrissy here decides to get even bigger, we just send them the new video, and we get the new clothes in a day or two.”

            “I don’t know if I’m getting any bigger than this,” I said.

            “Pish posh,” Dave said.  “Don’t lack imagination on me now.”

            The clothes were gorgeous.  They all accentuated my shoulders and chest without strangling them.  The pants all had a capacious crotch with zippers over the right hip so there were no zippers or seams slicing my junk in half.  They even made me some dress shirts, a suit jacket, a blazer, and a few dressy pairs of slacks.  I was most delighted to see a new lab coat—roomy and spacious as a lab coat should be, even on me.  There wasn’t a lot in the collection, but what it lacked in breadth, it made up for in versatility, practicality, and style.

            I eventually found the last item in my haul, and it was so unlike any of the others that I held it up to show Dave.

            “About that,” he started, then held his index finger to his lips to think of how to finish that sentence.

            It was a glittery, skimpy, golden lamé thong.

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