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Therapy Session II (TheEd) - updated May the fourth


merehuman

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This is such a great story.  I love Dr. Breneth's attitude and how he seemingly fights the urge to be completely dominating while still be just dominating enough to let the little people know their place.

It also seems that perhaps Mr. Branson's father isn't as cruel as he envisions him to be.  Perhaps Junior has just been unable to cope with his father's growth.  If he would accept that fact perhaps their relationship could be much more mutually enjoyable. 

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Interesting take on this.  I love where it's going.  It has a flair of Elongro.  The big guys just don't really see the world as the little ones do.  It's all benevolent, but there's more of an order to it.  A hierarchy was established.  I bet the political structure has changed quite a bit over the time that Mr. Branson was in seclusion.  More musclegods in office reinforcing the new normal leaving room for the little ones but knowing full well the future belongs to them.  After all, the only ones in the future that remain small will be the ones who took V early.  Future generations will all be V size.  Mr Branson junior signed his own prison sentence by taking V too early.  Unless they find a way to make those that took it too early to recover.  But I doubt that will happen because it wouldn't be needed once the non V generation dies out.  Mr Branson junior is doomed.  If his father ends up benevolent... maybe junior will find some solace.

It kinda makes me wonder if Branson senior is being more overprotective than harmful... I think senior IS actively searching for his son if not already knows where he is and knowing that his son was in a secluded place made him comfortable for the time being.  Dr. Breneth may actually use his contacts to see if there may be a search going on.  Maybe just maybe, senior may know that junior took V early and may be planning recovery for him especially if he loves him that much and is willing to go to such lengths to find him.

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22 hours ago, ploder4 said:

 It has a flair of Elongro

 yep, I resuscitated this story because the concept was the closest cousin of elongro that I had!

I love describing a whole society centered around the narcissism of these giant bodybuilders (by the eyes of those who do not grow)

 

 

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9 minutes ago, merehuman said:

I love describing a whole society centered around the narcissism of these giant bodybuilders (by the eyes of those who do not grow)

DITTO!!  ?

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9 minutes ago, merehuman said:

 yep, I resuscitated this story because the concept was the closest cousin of elongro that I had!

I love describing a whole society centered around the narcissism of these giant bodybuilders (by the eyes of those who do not grow)

 

 

Well, you DEFINITELY always had talent for it!

Especially with your other past masterpieces!

We can only hope "Twenty Something Inches" or "The God Father" might receive similar attention!

Well done!

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1 hour ago, Tzeentch said:

Well, you DEFINITELY always had talent for it!

Especially with your other past masterpieces!

We can only hope "Twenty Something Inches" or "The God Father" might receive similar attention!

Well done!

omg, dont even. I threw a lot of quarters in a wish fountain to find out what happens next in Twenty Something Inches

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  • 3 weeks later...

While the Musclegod doctor talked about his HBO contract on the phone, the receptionist and the young man stayed by the door guarding Mr.Branson. They couldn't avoid talking about Dr.Breneth, "you look like who wants the doctor's dick," said Janine to the young shrink with a low voice. "Desperately"

"45 years to get my 'v' shot. I count every year. Imagine, just to be anything close to Dr.Breneth. You would look up here." He pointed at his lower belly.

"You wouldn't be that tall. Only the old spice get that tall. Besides, I will be a fucking amazon by that age. To fuck these monsters day and night."

"You can be a fucking amazon right now. You would look great."

"Thanks. I'm just like how petite I feel near a Musclegod. I don't know. Like most girls, I like to be dwarfed by their size. It is so awesome. A big, musclegod daddy is so scary, but a fucking thrill. Besides, after mom became a Musclegoddess, poor dad. He is half the man he used to be. Now he is just... pathetic. Always grumping. Complaining. While she has her escapades with Real Men. And it will take 20 years for his 'v' shot, and make sex 'properly' with a nearly seven feet tall amazon like mom. His is in constant sorrow and mom is having the time of her life. I wouldn't want that for my husband. I'll only take my 'v' shot when he takes his. Like a second honeymoon. It would be so sweet to grow together, playing games with the tinies, watching them getting smaller and smaller before us, and then let them worship our big bodies head to toe. So romantic."

Mr.Branson listened to them talking freely like he wasn't there, talking about dreams he couldn't have.

His company on the couch was Dr.Breneth's heavy book. He mapped with his eyes the picture of his immense lats, focused on his armpits on page 497, on the chapter "Revolutionary Psychology", and there Mr.Breneth explained a few biologic reasons of how dominance and submission became the 'New Normal' :

The 'Testosterone Overload' of a Musclegod created several byproducts, one of them was the 'Male Suppressors', pheromones that bring the testosterone of those near (and weaker than) him to lower levels. More comparatively weaker the man, more such suppressors would affect a male psyche, making them submissive, non-confrontational and obedient, and with longer exposures, making them weaker. While Male Suppressors could develop arousal (and dependency), the ordinary men who attempted to fight it, developed depression and apathy, and in the worst cases, despair and self-harm.

A little bulb lit inside Mr.Branson's mind, "that explains a lot."   

The more his father grew, not only more resentful Mr.Branson junior became, and more his mood became totally erratic. He used to be a very level-headed man, Mr.Branson could deal with stressful situations like a breeze, that is, until his father crossed the 330lbs (or 150kg) threshold and triggered his 'Testosterone Overload'.  

"Oh..." Mr.Branson recalled the day his father came with the news, that he was growing beyond the 300lbs of muscles, and suddenly he was energetic as a teenager, and always boning up at anything, boning up when he talked about his arms, or boning up while talking about how many women were hitting on him. His father became much bossy and competitive. It was by 300 lbs that he couldn't stop showing off his 'gains' every ten minutes. Every day was like he got those 300 pounds of muscles that morning, like a novelty that never wore off. He started to watch himself in the mirror constantly, choosing clothes elastic enough to look like he wasn't wearing anything at all. And pretending to arrange his skintight manly leggings or his wifebeater, his father was actually just watching his own muscles flexing and bunching insistently. Flexing his pectorals and watching how deep his cleavage went like a woman who just had large breast implants, always looking at it, to feel that they are real, that they are a part of her body, her new personality. In Mr.Branson Senior's case, muscles, piles of muscles everywhere over his big body all around, not just his abundant chest. With the Testosterone Overload, his father just couldn't stop himself. And it only increased with his size. Self-infatuation was a bodily necessity. While fiercely dominant, a Musclegod is a slave to his desires.

And so as the Testosterone Overload elevates, so do the Suppressors. When a Musclegod reaches seven feet tall, or 2-meters tall, the Suppressors literally 'attack' men around him with a flex of his muscles. The major  'Flex' was the Bicep flex, the pose that exposes the armpits, it creates a pheromone bombardment. A bombardment could elicit uncontrollable arousal on men and women alike.

Mr.Branson kept reading, most affected men correlated the pheromone bombardment with the 'Flex', and even the image of a Musclegod doing the pose could create a similar response of expontaneous orgasm, and thus, a feedback mechanism. "Oh, my god," said Mr.Branson junior reading it. It connected so many dots in his mind.  Scrambling his memories he remembered when the seven feet tall Branson Senior made Mr.Branson junior to orgasm 'accidentally' by flexing his double biceps in a show-offy casual fashion in the kitchen. He creamed his pants by just watching his father's oil tank lats expanding from his tank top. Mr.Branson Senior (and Mr.Branson junior's wife) were oblivious about what the Musclegod's armpits were doing to Mr.Branson Junior's libido.

"Everything is biological..." Mr.Branson realized aloud.

"Precisely," Mr.Branson heard the Musclegod's deep voice echoing around the office. With heavy thumps, the doctor was walking back the corridor towards him, Janine and the young man, and his voice could be heard in all other offices. Just before opening the windows above the double doors, he said, "everything you feel towards a Musclegod is a natural response."

Mr.Branson heard it while his eyes fixated on the gigantic quads guarding the entrance to the room.  Both Janine and the young shrink side by side of the door, watched the giant doctor open the main ceiling windows to pass inside, and once opened, the Musclegod gave them the 'Flex'. Flexing his huge arms. The skin-tight shirt protested by ripping further under his armpits, and both Janine and the young therapist lost balance, as did Mr.Branson, "there is no right or wrong, there is only my muscles," said the deep voice flexing his bowling ball biceps harder, but not hard enough to rip his shirt again, but hard enough to make the young man to cum again in his pants. In his 40s, Mr.Branson was about to shoot another load too, even if it was so painfully. Dr.Breneth was a man with so much testosterone that little specks and flashes of light filled Mr.Branson junior's vision. Mr.Branson thought he might faint again as his eyesight tunneled, everything turning black but Dr.Breneth's wrecking-ball-biceps and the big veins forcefully pumping blood into those two monumental masses of muscles.

And then, the Musclegod relaxed his arms to his sides, bouncing his godly pectorals only once while his eyebrows raised in approval of our collective gasps at them, like the Musclegod was feeding from their released energy. The Musclegod glanced at both young graduates completely flushed. Janine's beige stockings were a mess. "I'll need you both presentable, go take a shower later," stated Dr.Breneth. The Musclegod came above the young man, looking down at him between his pectoral hills, "and bring me more coffee before you go."

The young shrink nodded fast and went directly to the expresso machine eager to please the Musclegod. Other clients waiting outside noticed the young man and Janine walking funny, which was becoming too common of a scene around a big Musclegod.   

The military-grade chair groaned once again to accommodated one thousand pounds of muscles.

"Did the HBO thing went alright?" Mr.Branson asked meekly, still breathing hard.

"We don't need to go there," the Musclegod opened his notebook on his bench-sized crossed leg, and Mr.Branson heard some threads ripping around the explosive flexes of his upper drum-sized leg. 

"Why?"

"Because you would compare yourself to me, and that would be brutally unfair."     

"Do you think I'm that fragile, Doctor?"

The Musclegod took a deep breath expanding his massive chest, "you'll get better. I noticed you've already read a few passages of the book."

Mr.Branson's eyes were drawn to the Musclegod's armpits, surrounded by his bulbous delts, traps, and biceps like the entrance of a cave, "yes... enlightening," Mr.Branson said, "Testosterone Overload, I didn't know about that."

"The book contains my thesis, social experiments, and behavioral biology observations that my team and I conducted as I and my wife became Musclegods. My students, as you can see them on page 377, devoted the last three years to be a part of this study, spending all their available time studying me and my wife, our bodies and bodily functions... and also me studying their own bodies and bodily, emotional reactions."

On page 377, on the chapter 'Scientific Method', there were more than five hundred students, surrounding the Musclegod doctor in the gardens of a college campus. Dr.Breneth's son, the photographer, seemed to take the exact moment that all 500 college students, of all colors, sexes, and nationalities had their heads turned to the eight feet tall Musclegod facing the crowd, shirtless, with his superwide muscular back to the camera. Half of the students were looking at his chest and biceps, the other half looking at the extreme cock tightly wrapped in his Adidas red compression thighs.           

"They look dedicated."

"As part of the social experiment, I hardly informed how they should organize between themselves before me. What evolved then was an ever-growing atmosphere of competition for my attention and acceptance. From there we could extrapolate how the society will unfold under the vHCG era. You can find my conclusions on page 441, Chapter 43, 'Lordship and Bondage' and Chapter 44, 'Father Figure' on page 466.

For every word, Mr.Branson thought of a quip. That all these absurdities deserved to be met with sarcasm. Yet, he swallowed those cynical thoughts when his eyes shifted from his doctor's face to any of his superhuman body parts.  The fascinating muscular appeal of the Musclegod's pictures was there to show the world that the new deal was there, a final raw deal, real as it gets: a tyrannical hierarchy of attractiveness, the attractiveness that comes with muscle size.

Mr.Branson looked back at the rendering of Dr.Breneth's muscular arm holding the planet on the cover. It sunk then the true weight of that book: it was a political manifesto, a scientific treaty, maybe even a new socio-economic theory and a spiritual guide. It will break 100 million copies, Mr.Branson thought, sell more books than Tolkien and Stephen King together. The newer Testament.

"It is... fascinating," Mr.Branson said. "In a weird way, I think I kind of knew all of that, but a lot of it all came together now, doctor."

"Good to know."

Mr.Branson was curious about his amazon wife, "I don't seem to find your wife on the book."

"We'll have another version of the book, with her pictures instead. As soon as she reaches 7'5 feet tall..." The Musclegod shifted his position for a moment, his arms swelled harder as he thought of his amazon wife, "and my son's team to finish the production," he shifted his position again, his chair clanked with the massive weight shifting, "...of the pictures."

"Anything wrong, doc?"

"I'm fine." The Musclegod took another deep breath to clear the image of his Musclegoddess wife from his mind.

"Christ... 7'5? She's almost your height!" Mr.Branson listened to a few more strands ripping apart around the Musclegod thighs, "she would tower even over my ex-wife, and my ex was already threatening enough for me at 6'9." Mr.Branson noticed the Musclegod adjusting his tight pants between his mesmerizingly muscular legs, the chair groaned loudly this time.  "If my ex got to 7'5 feet tall she would have crushed me between her legs a long time ago."

The expensive pen in the Musclegod's hand snapped in three and Mr.Branson saw the already big package of the doctor enlarging with every heartbeat. Shit, he thought, looking at that, that thing was thick as Mr.Branson's forearm and then getting wider than his upper arm. The elastic pouch wrapping every detail of his immense cock was stretching to accommodate the added mass, but that thing didn't stop there. It was getting longer and thicker, the cock head getting ready to pierce whatever material it finds in its path.

"We'll have to interrupt for one moment," said the Musclegod looking at his watch, and he elevated his voice for the whole office to hear, "Janine, please come over here."

In ten seconds, Janine was at the door, not missing the obscene enormity growing over the Musclegod's thunderous sartorius like a cake in the oven.

"Would you mind?" The Musclegod pointed towards the building enormity in his crotch.

Mr.Branson saw Janine's mouth went agape at the proposition, stupified as her eyes lingered on it, not quite believing it. And for one moment, Mr.Branson thought that Janine got deeply offended by the crudest move in the sexual harassment history of the working class.

He was wrong, Janine went on her fours and started crawling the office carpet towards the Musclegod's thighs with her eyes taken by insane lust, her salivating red lips eagerly smiling all the way.

"It won't take long," said the Musclegod to Mr.Branson as he opened his monstrous legs to let Janine come and crawl between them.

Mr.Branson watched Janine's hands crossing the muscular landscape of the Musclegod's upper legs, feeling every crevice, every hard bump overflowing her palm, embracing them with her arms as her nose and cheeks rubbed on one leg, saturating her nostrils.

The Musclegod finished writing some more notes before giving his full attention to his cock and Janine, putting the notes aside, relaxing his musclebound arms to the sides and spreading his legs further, as she blissfully basked her face on his muscles, feeling them with her whole body. All the while his big cock kept creeping larger at twelve inches -30cm- and Mr.Branson didn't know that it was still halfway to go in both length and width. 'He'll kill her with that thing,' he thought.        

The stretchy pouch of pants was reaching its limit, encasing the Musclegod's cock like a condom ready to burst, Janine whispered at it with a soft but desperate voice, biting her lips hard, "can I touch it, sir?"

Dr.Breneth boring his eyes at her, just above his immense pectorals full of authority, just nodded. Janine positioned herself as the Musclegod fully -spread his long legs pushing Mr.Branson's couch aside to give him even more space -the whole room.

Janine embraced the sidewalk pole with her hands and arms, feeling smaller than ever. Every single touch of her delicate fingers on the Musclegod's throbbing rod sent every submissive tendency of her on overdrive.  She loved that her both hands only felt a fraction of his hardening cock, which was then starting to elevate both its mass and Janine from his immense leg, as it gained even more inches.

Mr.Branson couldn't move, couldn't react. He was partially afraid and spellbound, speechless that it was even larger than the pictures in the book. He has been modest in the book. Dr.Breneth had more cock than all those 500 students put together.

As the advanced material of Dr.Breneth's pants couldn't take anymore cock, Janine expertly found the little band that held the overly stressed pouch closed. With her small voice, full of reverence, but with her eyes staring greedily on the big prize growing before her, she begged him, "can see it, sir?"

The Musclegod took Janine's head with his big palm and pressed her face over his monumental erection, as Janine attempted to unclasp the pouch open, with her hands almost trembling with excitement. The closer contact made it grow a few inches more and to elevate to 45 degrees from his lap like a battleship cannon, making Janine not needing to kneel to reach its head anymore.

Mr.Branson watched the Musclegod and his little worshipper forgetting his presence, they were in a world of their own, orbiting the largest cock he ever saw. The massive rod free from the unclasped pouch, grew harder and angrier as large veins sprouted and pulsed like a bloody steam locomotive taking speed.  Janine was delirious as she rubbed her whole face, hands, and arms, and breasts, and tongue, anything, as if she was doing sex with the Musclegod's cock alone, ecstatic and somewhat disgruntled that a cock of such size would never fit anywhere in her body.

The Musclegod needed the release immediately, and his solution was to grind Janine's face harder, his huge arm pushing her cheeks up and down against his 20+inches shaft. Janine was nothing more than a contraption for the Musclegod to get off. She got even more delirious by the maneuver, her drooling kept dumping on to the monster rod making it lustrous, with her tongue all out slurping like she was licking a giant jawbreaker. Her eyes were wide open to drain the sight before her, at an 8'5 feet Musclegod. A fantasy she has been harboring for the last three years was finally happening. Janine wanted to devour DR.BRENNETH'S COCK as long as she saw his pictures in the college. All her girlfriends wanted that cock. And it was finally hers. Hers alone. She couldn't wait to tell them.

Mr.Branson noticed her tied shirt opening and her breasts getting off of her bra as her body was rammed up and down against the humongous cock.  His full attention was the Doctor's mango-sized balls, which seemed to have needs of their own, growing bigger. He never saw something like that, spermatozoids multiplying themselves on a geometric progression, filling those balls in all directions, and once each ball got bigger than Mr.Branson's closed fists put together, it hastened even more size.

Mr.Branson's hair was being pulled of his face by the displacement of hot air coming out of the Musclegod's powerful lungs, rumbling his deep growl. The almighty cock bobbed with Janine's maniac craze, her petite hands rubbing the shaft as far as the length of her arms allowed, "YES", the Musclegod doctor rumbled, shaking the windows and making Mr.Branson squeal in his seat. Mr.Branson found himself at the path of the fully loaded sperm weapon, watching pre-cum falling over Janine's face and drenching her body, igniting her multiple orgasms like a strike of napalm.

Between her delirious cries and the Musclegod's balls churching heavier, inflating like a party balloon, between the web of veins spurting all over the Musclegod's bloated muscles, like a giant eight feet tall erection, the giant rod that bobbed before he was just as veiny, Mr.Branson junior noticed that he in the line of fire. The head, the size of a kid's SS helmet, was aiming at him. The entire picture of a Musclegod behind it made it look even larger. The mini-refrigerator sized pectorals, maybe each as wide as his shoulders, flinched. The Musclegod was about to cum between Mr.Branson's eyes, and then his eyes locked with the menacing green eyes of the Musclegod doctor looking back at him. Mr.Branson had to make a choice:

Should he dodge?

.

end of the fourth part
 

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Interesting.... this just inspired a side story for me.  I am considering putting it to text. 

I am loving this more and more.  I do feel bad for Mr. Branson though... doomed until death (if he still sees it that way).  I don't feel bad for Janine's dad.  As far as I read (unless I missed it), he's still young enough that he has to wait to take the V and hasn't doomed himself yet.   This is the inspiration for this side story. 

 

I love this story. 

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