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Therapy Session II (TheEd) - updated May the fourth


merehuman

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hey guys, I used to have the penname TheEd

since I lost the recovery email for that login, I'll post with this new one

This story is for the ones who are into Role Reversal and Humiliation (so hot right now)

Not exactly a story but a 'transcript' of a therapy session. The first part was posted at the older forum far back in 2012 (so old right now)

I'll paste that first part, and I'll continue from there

It is based on HarbieBoys 'Outgrown by Dad' (I hope he doesn't mind... again)

And also loosely based on another continuation of the first part of my story done by ploder4

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from HarbieBoys:

"all this is due to variant human growth hormone, vHCG, or as we like to call it, ‘v’. This stuff, v, works in combination with steroids and other supplements to produce not just muscle, but body growth – the science is complex, and I won’t bore you. But because it has a complex relationship with naturally produced testosterone, v doesn’t work in those who have high natural testosterone levels, such as teenage and adult males. On the other hand, for older men and females, it works extraordinary well, as was the case with me. V came onto the market to help older men build up muscle bulk to avoid falls and injuries, and it’s certainly done that. Men in their sixties, seventies and now eighties are able to become more muscular than the doctors and scientists ever anticipated. "



Therapy Session



October 14th, 2012


“How old are you, Mr…” Dr. Breneth, the shrink, had to flip the pages to remember his name. “…Branson Junior?”

“37”

“Does your family know that you are here?”

“No…”

“Do you have a job?”

“Yes… I think… I’m a manager, in theory… it is a family business. I had a great success of saving it from bankruptcy, everyone used to recognize, well… everyone but my family. To tell the truth, no one remembers it anymore. I’m just the Tiny Branson now.”

“Describe me the last time you felt true happiness.”

“I guess that was three years ago when I broke a deal and took over our biggest rival in the field… it was our most lucrative year. Branson & Branson, do you know it? ”

“Oh yes, B&B, I bought my table there” the therapist pointed to a massive desk at his side. “It was expensive and damn heavy…. It needs four people to move it around.”

“And it will last forever. We are the biggest seller of ironwood furniture in America, perhaps in the entire world… by now. He rebranded our company, it’s now just Branson, not B&B anymore… it is all about him now.”

“Him? Who’s him?”

“My father… he just jostled me aside from the board... and no one cares. He can do whatever he wants, and doesn’t matter how unfair he became… people will not just accept it, they will honor his wishes like he’s the President. It’s insane the power he has over people now. People fear him and love him at the same time.”

“And do you have a good relationship with your father?”

“We used to have… now it is different, terribly different.”

“Let’s focus on before, when it was good, how would you describe him?”

“My dad was a kind of always passive, avoiding confronting anyone, he’d always compromise. He was just terrible in giving bad news. Totally unable to fire even the most reckless employee, instead he’d always give a hand for people with more problems than him… and that left our company to near bankrupt.”

“And you came to rescue the company, I guess.”

“It was an intervention, we had to forcibly retire him. I personally fired many of his dearest precious older employees because their salaries weren’t compatible with our reality. And after a single year, we were able to pay all our debts and build a new distribution system to the entire country and abroad.”

“How your father felt about your success?”

“Not well… he got depressed, resentful, in denial that I was right… It kind of hurt him. He was passive but never humble. He would buy a new Mercedes every year. Spending money we didn’t have in Italian suits. My father loved to be the boss and getting people to do things for him, and that’s the worst kind of passiveness, he let many problems to roll and would buy a new car instead. He never coped very well that he was getting old, and the older he got more he need some material compensation. He just stopped talking with me while I directed the company, until…”

“Until what?”

“Well, he didn’t tell me, but I could see some Changes. Suddenly was not as passive either… Since my mother died a decade ago he was living with my family, we have a very large house. It was a surprise to find sets of weights on the garage. My dad never had the energy to do any kind of exercise.”

“What exactly you mean by Changes?”

“They were very subtle in the beginning, as his posture, his hair was growing back, but it was his attitude that changed faster. From complete depression, he got more disposition than me…”

“Are we talking about vHCG?”

“…yes.”

The therapist took a time to fill a coffee and to grab a cookie; quickly he grew more interested in Branson Junior’s story: “For how long is he on vHCG?”

“Two years…”

“How big is he?”

“His biceps are around twenty-seven inches, at the last measurement…”

“How do you feel near him?”

“I feel like an imp. He weighs more than three times than me. The muscles in his thigh are wider than my waist. He was taller than our doorframes… but we fixed that.”

“How your family reacted to his transformation?”

“They… not only supported him, but he also convinced them to take vHCG too, my wife, my sons, my daughter…”

The therapist grabbed another cookie while writing ’27 inches’ on his notes. “How old are they?”

“My sons are 11 and 12, my daughter is 14… they are all taller than me already, much stronger than me. I have no authority over them anymore. They only obey my father.”

“And your wife?”

“She took his side too.”

“How is your sex life? Healthy?”

“Not well, my wife only has sex with me to subjugate me. We have sex less frequently, and each time she gets more violent on me. Sometimes getting off on how weak I am near them... one time she spanked…I mean, got angry… because I didn’t have the stamina to get her off.”

“You don’t look any weak…”

“Her arms are bigger than my leg, more than nineteen inches, a real amazon. Nothing close of my father, of course.”

“And how she acts around your father?”

“She adores him now, spending the entire day on the gym together and doing everything he asks.”

“Do you two argue about him and the time she spent with him?”

“Not anymore, at first when I discovered that dad was on vHCG she seemed to know already. Speaking positively about it and defending him. I didn’t really care much then, but at that time we didn’t know how monstrous huge he would be, with pecs bigger than his face… all I could think was that it would distract him from our business, how wrong I was. After some months he started to lose all modesty at home, and my kids asked to feel his new muscles. I was disgusted. We had a huge fight, me and my wife… it was when she decided to support him by taking vHCG herself.”

“How tall she grew?”

“Around a foot, maybe more, she’s 6’3 now, packed with muscles like my sons.”

“Under who’s decision?”

“Obviously it was my father had a part in it. When I discovered it was too late, they were already stronger than me and started threatening me physically if I said one more word over the issue. They never really did anything but their muscles are intimidating enough. They shut me up by just flexing their guns.”

“They knew what you thought of it?”

“Of course they already knew what my opinion was… and they took it anyway, always saying that if I could, I would be on it too. Sometimes they imply that I’m just jealous of their muscles… fucking nonsense. They force me every day to see that their muscles are bigger than the week before… holding my arm to compare with their constant development.”

“Would you take vHCG if you could?”

“Maybe a bit. But it is almost a religion thing for them and each day is harder to get it out of their minds. For them being muscular and strong is all that really matters and bigger they become, more it brings resentment towards me, the runt. They lost respect not only for me and anyone else... sometimes I feel they will lose all respect for normal people like they are superiors or something.”

“They have greater stamina, they can concentrate harder and more focused, they hardly get tired… in some ways do you think they are superior to you and me?”

“They think they are… maybe in some aspects they are. But who’s counting? Who really cares that they have muscles over muscles?”

“Maybe you do.”

“Are you defending them?”

“Maybe seeing things in their own perspective might help you. Do you have dreams with them? About their muscular bodies? Could you describe them for me?”

“I’m not very comfortable about talking about it…”

“Why did you come here, then?”

“Because I’m getting crazy! I need help, my mind is all messed up… sometimes I think that they all are getting off on how stronger they're getting than me. I’m getting paranoid. Thinking that they are all plotting against me, to make me smaller, to make me insignificant, to toss me in a bin at the end of it…”

“How do you feel when they show their muscles to you?”

“I… I… it’s awkward, they don’t realize how big they are getting… that is not normal…” The therapist noted the sudden excitement on Mr.Branson Junior on his notebook: ‘classic case’.

“But how do you react when your father shows them to you?”

“I don’t know, I get paralyzed… it is beyond my control, each day he seems more cut but bigger, I can’t describe, my brain can’t take all his muscles at once, when dad walks shirtless inside our home, with his pecs of size of toasters, I start to sweat and my vision tunnels, like there was nothing else in the room but his pecs… he would bounce them to wake me up sometimes, only to get trapped again as he flexes his uncanny quads… most of the time wearing nothing but his compression tights, and even with each leg rounder than my waist it does not have one ounce of fat, I would marvel at the machinery of it, its godlike form…”

“Do you have dreams about him?”

“Why is that so important? Yes… I have some dreams… some days of the week, always in the morning.”

“Did you have any of those dreams today?”

“yes…”

“Describe to me any details that you can remember.”

“All right… it became a recurring dream… that I became the family’s dog. It was still me, but they treated me like a pet. And I was begging for my huge owner’s attention like a good dog… and… well, that’s it.”

“Please tell me all the details, Mr. Branson Junior.”

“I… well, I… do you know when a dog humps someone’s leg…”

“Oh, I see. You dreamed about embracing your father’s muscular thighs. Did you got punished?”

“yeah, but I woke up at that… I’m not attracted to him… that would be so gross, but his muscles, so perfect, so strong, his cock… I mean… shit…”

“I imagine that he has evidently a remarkable sized one.”

“Even soft that thing would be bigger than mine ever has been hard. You have to see it with your own eyes… sometimes we can see it pulsing, engorging with blood in his tight worn-out jeans. He wears custom made pants to fit that thing in… I can’t imagine how he can fuck someone with that thing.”

“I also imagine that presently he has a vigorous sex life.”

“He gets hard with a cheerleader bouncing on TV… It is like a fist forming in his pants. When he scratches his balls in his tight pants, his balls fill his big hand, overly heavy too, many of his gym clothes ripped right there.”

“Do you ever invade his privacy?”

“Like what?”

“Like opening his wardrobe, peaking up his clothes or underwear?”

“I… I mean… for some time he was using my black shirts, when he got to be tall as me, his torso filled them like a second skin, he destroyed all of them. He would buy me new ones and would use them too. I found a box where he deposited all the clothes ripped apart by the growth of his muscles, on the very bottom of the pile I found my shirts… on the top I took the last one ripped apart by his pecs, I put over my body and it covered down to my knees… one time I found a condom completely full, it was inhuman the size of that… like a small grapefruit or a very large orange, and then I found another…”

“He dates many women?”

“I’ve lost count. He has a drawer full of trophies, he bangs all types of girls. He became quite a beachgoer too, at least since he reached 300lbs. He would pack his newest truck with women of all ages, and guys too. All adoring him like some sort of a God. One day he convinced me to go to the beach with him, it is an hour drive in his Hummer H2, the only one in town big enough for him… you need two parking slots to fit that. Before he went ‘v’, he only cared about a car’s luxury and eco-friendly. Now, his new four-wheeler consumes four or five times more than any normal car. It is like he doesn’t care about the environment anymore, he doesn’t even read the newspapers anymore. He only cares about lifting, eating, fucking and barking orders… while I was working overnight… well, anyway, even big as the Hummer was, his body takes up all the space, it was really distracting his bare arms so close of my view, I couldn’t not look to the side without his mountains of muscles slapping into my vision, they were becoming obscene and yet he is casual about them, talking about them, flexing them, all those muscles jumping and sliding one over another, like a masterpiece opus of muscles, all muscles at their limit fighting for space and my attention… sometimes I just stare at them losing track of time, like a trip… and he talks about them like the weather. Anyway, when we arrived there and he peeled out his tank top that was glued on his skin, showing his abs like twelve oranges, the people all around stop to gawk at him. His other ‘v’ friends would come along and parade over the beach, owning it. He presented me to them, all of them well above six feet six inches high already, my father was the biggest of them all. And we were surrounded by their ‘fans’ as my father called them. They were groups of noisy big boobed blondes and tanned men all wanting a piece of him, eyeing his package and his muscular bubble butt, like dogs staring hungrily at meat being cooked... I was startled by how far they went to please him, always pressing their breasts against his back, daring to feel his muscles, caressing its curves…”

“His growth didn’t mature yet?”

“I think that is might be slowing down, but I’m not sure, he always get bigger here and there, one month he decided to pay extra attention to his pecs and they doubled their size, then they would get too big, he’d sculpt other muscles bigger to compensate… and then those pecs were already too big, bigger than my wife’s cleavage, and that's a big statement, they are now wide as volleyballs, very deep, veiny, monstrous. So he goes like this, each time he picks a new target, like his quads, or his delts, or his triceps, and grows them, gloating and flexing for all my family to cheer, my wife would take his measurements and speak them out loud enough for me to hear. I became a joke in my house. They all want my father to flex those mountains of muscles in my face to see my reaction.”

“Does he bring women to your home?”

“At the beginning yes, but nowadays not so much. His fucking sessions were getting too noisy… He brings those muscular women to fuck with him and they scream all night, waking up dogs and our neighbors. One time the police came by and dad moved his fuck sessions somewhere else.”

“How is his relationship with your wife?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know…. I know her smile, that one after fucking all night. She’s always touching his muscles, sometimes in front of me, sometimes to make a joke about his package jutting out of his shiny blue compression tights, forcing me to see how ridiculously large they are. And she gets to sit on his lap all the time, giggling and trying to cover one pec with her both hands, always finding some excuse to touch his muscles, like cleaning a sweat drop with a napkin and then polishing his cannonball biceps. One time I just came home from the office and saw they both moving out of the couch, his cock was hard like baseball bat forcing his sweat pants to rip apart, lucky for us he was wearing more resistant compression shorts beneath.”

“He does like form-fitting compression clothes.”

“He thinks of himself as a superhero, I think. Those clothes are not made to hide anything, on the opposite, the new ones he’s buying, which cost more than my business suits at the end of the month… it needs some advanced material to not rip apart around his mass, and not be so thin and transparent to not use in public. But mostly his clothes have a very short life, when he flexes some body part... or even boning up, no material can withstand so much stress for so long. ”

“Do you have any pictures of him?”

“Do you want to see them?”

“No. I’m asking if you keep pictures of him with you…”

“Oh, yes… I mean, I have some. They are family albums… nothing incriminatory.”

“Can I see them?”

“Sure. Here’s on my phone.”

“Ouch… he is damn big, he must weight…”

“427lbs… for now. He’s planning to make a huge party once he reaches 500lbs.”

“He is indeed… breathtaking. Never see a ‘v’ with such huge quads and pectorals…”

“Yes, he has focused more on his biceps and calves now, one day he convinced me to the gym with him to see the absurd size of the weights he uses and…”

“Is Convince the right word? Is the second time you use this word… do you fear him?”

“I… no, of course not… only sometimes I do. I mean, you don’t know how strong he is. We had a big emergency with the delivering of a large reunion table, it needed six big men to lift it and it got stuck in the entrance hall of our client’s building. If you don’t know, Ironwood can’t be cut with a chainsaw, and we faced to break an entire wall to remove it… until one of my employees called for my dad to help. After two years of his absence, the do-gooder Mr.Branson and his new big muscles, 350lbs at the time, could maneuver that mass of furniture without a sweat, but it was too stuck and we had to sacrifice the table, and he broke it in half with a single blow… with that, I understand that a single slap from him could shatter all my bones, and he grew six inches taller since then. I had a new efficient generation of employees… they all became his ‘fans’ after that visit… all of them asking when he would come back… just to gaze out at those muscles every day.”

“Do you think his muscular size affects everyone around him?”

“Of course it does, especially people who never came close of a ‘v’ before. And there aren’t many ‘v’s in this city yet, so people at the supermarket, at the mall and anywhere open space for him. Usually taking pictures, some middle-aged women would bite their lips when he passes by. Many men become speechless, like some kind of short circuit inside their heads. And he knows it, he uses that for his own gain, and it justifies him to be more muscular, to get even bigger, to turn even more sea of heads as he walks. In the office, his word is sacred now, an order from him is basically writing in stone…”

“So you think he controls others with his muscles?”

“Awe and fear of them, with that he became a bloody dictator at my company.”

“And everyone accepted him as their natural leader.”

“Exactly. He even started to hire more women for the staff and all directors agreed. They were obviously there for him to fuck, all taking vHCG as their boss. He fired most of the staff that didn’t accept right away his orders.”

“So the women in your office entered the ‘v’ religion too.”

“Yes, it is a cult around him and he wanted strong women. Ms.Nillis was our secretary for twenty years, mother of two kids, the typical church lady, became another muscle amazon for him to fuck, she even divorced her weak husband. And all women in the office are taller than the guys and they are starting to give me orders. My father granted them authority over me. Just to make me feel smaller yet.”

“And how’s the business? It seems that your father is not the most suited for the job, far as I can see…”

“That’s the other problem, while reckless, always blaming other people for his mistakes and going over their necks. All the guys are now so afraid of him that they blame themselves first, and even then they don’t leave. In terms of efficiency and profitability, we are nose down. No question about it, but… he got a miraculously a very cheap line of credit. Don’t ask me how. There is this other company now wanting to buy us out for a few hundred million… we don’t deserve a fraction of it… now he is dealing with more money than we ever had, and I can’t explain how. It’s just unbelievable.”

“He acts like a boss at home and like a father at the office?”

“Yeah, both, what suits best. You know parents… they all treat you like a kid, doesn’t matter that you are 36 and married with three children. The biggest problem is when he treats me like a kid in the office, the major effect is that no one sees me seriously anymore, that I’m just his kid son playing with the computer, who hardly one would pay attention. In reunions, he cuts me off and gives me dull tasks like recounting the inventory.”

“Why do you think he wants to keep controlling the company?”

“To teach me a lesson. To show that he is better than me. To take everything I own.”

“And do you think that it is all because of you?”

“Of course it wasn’t… of course not. Who wouldn’t like to be treated like a god, of course, that he wanted this more than anything else..”

“You lost your job to him, you’re not the provider for your family anymore. Your kids respect him more than you and your wife is certainly sleeping with him… so what’s left?”

“I should leave that house… I know… but I can’t…”

“Why?”

“Because of the kids… even if I’m not their role model anymore.”

“Fair. But there is any other reason?”

“Because of my wife… I would miss the sex. She’s got rougher, but I started to like the feel. Weird, isn’t?”

“She became dominant.”

“Yes, and her sex drive over any scale. It really blurs the line between sex and rape, do you know?”

“You could report her.”

“No, no… it is not that bad. Is that I’m obviously incapable to satiate her as before, bigger her muscles, more sex craving, so she gets exasperated when I come too fast… I can’t control it, it's like she developed new muscles down there. Then she gets infuriated when I can’t get hard again, so I spend some hours pleasing her, orally.”

“You still could report her.”

“I know, but I don’t want to. At least I can feel the hardness of her body.”

“So you are attracted to muscular size.”

“Yes…”

“And you have one of most muscular men on the planet living by your side, which you can’t touch because it is your father, do you have phallic dreams with him?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you dream about his cock?”

“Did you see his pictures? That package could fill a helmet, did you see that? And it gets bigger than that. Everyone knows how a ‘v’ cock looks like, but looking in person, supported by legs so muscular that looks like two huge anacondas, makes you re-think life. That thing hard is monumental, like a closed fist, with fat veins like his biceps. His whole body looks like a giant erection like I said… his muscles, every inch of him is obscene.”

“Do you think that your father at his present state is changing your sexual orientation?”

“Not only mine… everyone around him, everyone that he calls a runt has that stare over his muscles, trying to comprehend how much muscle could be packed into one person. On the beach I saw him mostly ignoring the big boobed girls touching his arms, he wanted the runts to feel him up too. He grinned at some ‘runts’ with their wives or girlfriends, those were he liked to torment the most, dad let them look, over his absurd pecs, or over his legs, or his package, to suddenly flex to them. I was sure that one or two did wet themselves as he laughed at their contorted faces. And everyone glances at him constantly. There is always something to see, like a world of itself, a world of pure muscles and strength that people get lost in. At the office, we had walls for everything, but my father wanted all of them down… and used his own fists to demolish the weak concrete, like it was made of foam. He said he wanted to supervise us from the high of his desk, built like a black leather office throne. After a week after his reform, he abolished the suits so he could use his gym clothes at work and lift his absurd weights in a rented room next floor. He constructed a gym for the company that no other employee can use but him. I can’t lift a single piece of his iron discs, it had many weights heavier than my whole body, we all feared that it could collapse over our floor. Yet no one said no.”

“I bet he made similar changes at your home…”

“He did transform our home into his private gym yet but that’s not the problem. He can’t see nothing that is just mine for too long… I didn’t receive any bonuses this last year, and my bills exploded with my entire family getting into the ‘v’. Do you know how much they’re eating now? My wife alone consumes five or six thousand calories to maintain and grow her body, and it is always more than before, there is never enough food at my house, and my dad alone can eat more than the rest of them. Tens of thousands of calories.”

“He doesn’t help you with these expenditures?”

“I don’t need his help… at least he paid for fixing our doors after he got 350lbs, he busted three doorframes, everything gets too frail on his touch, he already had broken half-a-dozen doorknobs thinking they were unlocked, he ripped one door off its fringes one time while I was pissing in the bathroom. We decided to not lock any door because of this, the bathroom even, sometimes he enters to take a bath without caring that I’m using it.”

“How is your communication with him? Do feel that you can speak your mind?”

“More recently it became mostly ‘yes, sir’, ‘no sir’, but it is mostly because I can’t think properly when he crosses his arms under his pecs, he must think that I’m utterly pathetic.”

“Our time is up. The last question for today, what do you think he would do if you disobey him?”

“I’m not sure if I want to know…”

For unknown reasons, Mr.Branson junior didn't come back for more therapy sessions.
 

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Therapy Session II



April 3, 2019



The young shrink, a graduate in his mid-20s, offered Mr.Branson some cookies while munching a big one. He started reading Mr.Branson files on his tablet, "so, the last time you had a therapy session was six years ago, right?"

"I thought it was five years."

"A lot can change in five years. Who would tell that Trump would ever be president five years ago, right?"

"…right. Where is Dr.Breneth? I thought he was still practicing, his name still appears here. My last session here was with him."

"He only takes a few patients these days. Very wealthy or very 'healthy' ones. You know, the 'v' cases."

"Oh, the 'v' cases…"

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe the sort of dramas vHCG brings to the table, Mr. Branson. No family gets to be the same after one member becomes a Musclegod. Some people just don't know how to deal with a Musclegod at their midst."

"Musclegod… my god. They're monsters, that's what they are."

"Why so resentful, Mr.Branson? Do you have anyone on 'v' in your family?"

"Like… my whole fucking entire family? Even my fucking uncles got hands on those 'v' some years ago."

"You should be thankful that they got their share before vHCG got regulated, Mr. Branson. It was a lifetime opportunity."

"Oh, you can still find it on black markets."

"But not in the same quality. No one grows over seven feet anymore. And they don't work on everyone."

"I know. First hand."

The young shrink inspected Mr. Branson Junior's body. It was evident under Mr.Branson's baggy shirt that he developed a clear case of gynecomastia. "Did you tried to inject 'v' into your body, Mr. Branson?"

"I… well… I felt I had no choice."

"That was reckless, Mr.Branson. You are still not old enough!"

"Yes… I tried to lower my testosterone levels for a year, but even then, 'v' didn't fire on me."

"And now it never will. You had only one shot on 'v', Mr.Branson."

"And I blew it, I know." The young shrink could only agree. On these days, men were eager to reach the 'v' age. Especially now that the 'v' fever was becoming wide-spread between women, and for too many,  an average husband couldn't satiate them as an older Musclegod could.

"You didn't just lose your opportunity to be a Musclegod, it is not just about strength, height, stamina, energy, acute senses, dexterity, endless sex drive, but also better memory, concentration, and life expectancy, and an overall happier, fulfilling life. You'll fall behind everyone you know."

"I know…"

"How old are you? 42? Every one of your friends will get their 'v' dose and have the time of their lives, taking every woman of their dreams to the bed, and you? They'll be all Musclegods but you. At least the majority of them. Not as big as people were getting on the first years of the drug, but get to be Seven Feet Tall Musclegods nevertheless."

"Could you stop saying this word?" Mr.Branson Junior sounded exasperated.

"Musclegods? What's the problem with Musclegods, Mr.Branson? Everyone knows a Musclegod. Everyone has a Musclegod in their families. And everyone lusts after a Musclegod. Musclegods are in our everyday lives. Do you think I can stop my girlfriend from craving the size and muscles of a Musclegod? Like I could stop a Musclegod to bed her? I wish I could join her. To be openly honest, I too, personally, crave their size and muscles as much as she, and I'm not even gay. At least I thought that I wasn't. Every time a Musclegod puts his big hands on her and gives her the ride of her life, she would later describe to me in painstaking detail every moment, every body part of him, how big, strong he was, or how deep was his voice, of how many times his dick was bigger than mine. Of how many times she orgasmed with him. The volume of his cum. Once she even brought a condom full of Musclegod jizz for me to see. I couldn't even hold it with a single hand. And I love it, we both are hooked on Musclegods porn, we watch those huge muscles together every night. Lately, we get the whole night watching them teasing their insane muscles on that new Netflix show, showing off their unbelievable packages and their boundless virility, and we watch them on repeat until we are both spent and sleep together dreaming of them. Their muscles bond us together as a couple. Things can change a lot in five years. You should accept the way things are and embrace them. Musclegods are on top and everyone is happy. But you."

"Are you sure Dr.Breneth can't attend me?"

"Dr.Eric Breneth became, let's say, quite expensive, Mr.Branson. $2000 an hour. Nonnegotiable. Do you want me to try to schedule a date, I mean, a session with him?"

"Two thousand dollars for a single session?"

"And Dr.Eric Breneth doesn't take just any patient, Mr.Branson."

"Well then, forget it. I don't have that kind of money anymore."
    
"What made you decide to come back to therapy? Mr. Branson?" The young shrink saw Mr.Branson's expression freezing slowly, his eyes dead set on the front double doors of the room, as if he saw a ghost. "Hello? Something wrong, Mr.Branson?"

Mr.Branson had felt a slight seismic tremor beneath his feet, giving him the PTSDs. Like in Jurassic Park, he saw the glass of water over the table near him, noticing the concentric rings on its surface intertwine with the slow rhythm of the deep vibrations on the floor. He knew a Musclegod was approaching outside. He developed a sixth sense when it comes to their massive weights, and with the vibration of the musclegod's concrete bursting strides, he felt the frisson on his skin, every strand and pore straightening up.

Mr.Branson's eyes were still locked on the front door. Thump-Thump-Thump, he wasn't sure if it was the floor shaking or his heart was coming out of his throat. Afraid, aroused, excited, by just feeling a Musclegod treading his colossal mass on that same ground, Mr. Branson junior felt his cock getting hard but his balls to recede out of fear. He knew right away the giant approaching outside the door weighted at least 450Kg, the same as his father when he last saw him. Or nearly 1000 pounds.

Over the door, there were large opaque windows that went the way up all to the tall ceilings of the room, and Mr.Branson Junior saw first a very blurry face approaching over the door. Another step shook the couch, made the water glass to jump and the undisturbed young shrink held it in place. Mr.Branson was just paralyzed, his mouth wide open, his eyes with horror and wonder. And he saw the creature's traps over the blurry opaque windows above the door. Two anvils holding a face with a trimmed short beard. While the almighty traps were fully exposed, the dark blue Musclegod shirt covered his basketball-sized delts and arms. The impressive 'v' beast was familiar, but the vHCG change their faces, making them overly manly, and reinvigorated youth that made Mr.Branson look the old man. At times, unrecognizable. Who could be the Musclegod outside? His mind went a thousand miles per hour, looking for clues. His mind was also numb as he noticed the Musclegod's head barely hitting the 2 meters, 50 centimeters, or 8'5 feet tall, ceiling. Again, the same height as his father, as the last Mr.Branson junior saw him.

With another, and yet, louder step, the top of his globular pectorals nearly filled the opaque window's width over the double doors. His knock hammered the door rudely, making Mr.Branson react like he got a shock out of the couch. The young shrink watched Mr.Branson recoiling, slightly amused at his reaction, he pointed with his thumb to the mountain of muscles whose hot massive breath made the opaque glass whiter, "you are lucky, he rarely comes to this office, it became too small for him" and he shouted to the giant waiting outside, "please come on in, Dr.Breneth."
 

.

 

end of first part of the second part

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2 minutes ago, dredlifter said:

Wow!  LOVE IT. :)

I did out of inspiration from Elongro!

(or from the abstinence from a new elongro chapter)

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I'm so excited to read this!!! The original series by HarbieBoys and the original version of the Therapy Session are some of my all time favorites. If @HarbieBoys is following this thread, I wish he would re-post the spin off series from the dad's perspective. I remember it being awesome as well, but it has been deleted from the story archives. 

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33 minutes ago, Kymuscleboy said:

I'm so excited to read this!!! The original series by HarbieBoys and the original version of the Therapy Session are some of my all time favorites. If @HarbieBoys is following this thread, I wish he would re-post the spin off series from the dad's perspective. I remember it being awesome as well, but it has been deleted from the story archives. 

 

yes, I wrote the first therapy 'episode' when that got deleted

I wish I could read again

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8 hours ago, merehuman said:

I did out of inspiration from Elongro!

(or from the abstinence from a new elongro chapter)

You might not want to tell me that!  Now if I delay the next chapter I feel like you'll write MORE! ?

Seriously though, ThEd stories from the old site are some of my favorites.  Didn't realize that was you!  Hope you'll keep writing! 

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