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Ooh, ooh!  Another saga from Londonboy!  Thanks for keep turning out such hot and well-crafted stories :)

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Part Two


I had the plan laid out in my head before Randy had even returned from telling his friends he was leaving with me.  I also had scored a reservation at one of the most exclusive French restaurants in the city.  It was, of course, an earlier reservation than anticipated, but that was fine – it meant we could get back to my place quicker.  It meant I could follow through on the task at hand sooner and accomplish this dream I had been working so long and so hard to achieve.  A quick acting narcotic would put the guy out long enough for me to inject him with the formula and for the growth to happen.  When Randy woke up from his little nap he would be a new man – a huge, powerful, gray-haired new man.  I briefly contemplated the morality of what I was planning to do.  Was I obligated to get his approval for the changes I was offering – both as a scientist and a human being?  I had wanted this for so long and, now, the reality of what I intended to do made me falter momentarily from my dream.  That’s also exactly when Randy reappeared.


“If I were a younger and bigger man, Thomas, I’d be plowing you in a bathroom stall in the back right now.  That’s how hot you are.  I’m still a fit guy, but you’re a pretty big fella and I’m not sure I could take you?”


“What if I went along willingly, Randy?”


“Where would the fun be in that, youngster?  Ah, if only I could be a strong young buck for just one day – now that would be the best birthday present of all.  I’d do you until the cows came home.”


It was as if the heavens had parted and the muscle gods had dropped a present directly in my lap.  For some reason, during my internal ‘happy dance’ at his words, I noticed his blocky thick masculine hands and got a slight taste of what the rest of him would look like when the serum did its business.  I found it a pity that he’d never be able to wear his gorgeous flattering shirt, again.  It then hit me that he’d have a whole wardrobe at home that he’d never be able to wear again.  It was a good thing that part of my planning had been to purchase some triple extra-large items of clothing for my one day senior knight in shining muscle armor.  Randy brought me back to reality.


“You sure do drift off a lot, Thomas.  Where is it exactly that you go?”


“I was just wondering what you’d look like as a strong buck.”


“Well, if you’re good I’ll show you some pictures of when I was your age.  Back then I mostly wore tank-tops or went shirtless.  I worked construction and had one of those naturally built physiques you’d see in what they called ‘beefcake’ magazines.  I’m still hitting the gym three times a week, stud, so I’m not out to pasture, yet.”


“I think you look incredible – maybe even fifteen years younger than you really are.”


“That’s what everyone says, kid.  Yes, age is only a number, but when the number is as high as mine is, you tend to have a few more aches and pains than you used to.  It’s a bitch getting older and don’t let anyone tell you it isn’t.  So, where are you taking me to dinner?”


When I told him the name of the restaurant there was a flicker of surprised appreciation in his face.  He started to talk about the place being way too expensive for a kid like me, but a quick opening of my wallet to reveal a row of top of the line unlimited credit cards, as well as a pocket full of big bills, made him realize I wasn’t just a run of the mill handsome young man.  He had an even greater look of delight when he slid into the passenger seat of my Porsche Taycan.  He immediately stopped thinking I couldn’t afford dinner.  I was a little surprised by the obvious power in Randy’s blocky weathered hand when he grabbed my thigh tightly as we pulled away from the bar.  I jumped a little at his forwardness.


“You don’t mind, do you, Thomas?”


“No sir.  I was just a little surprised.”


“Surprised because of my forwardness or by the fact that I still have a pretty strong grip.”




I smiled to myself as I thought about how much stronger his grip would be in just a few hours.  He was going to be able to squeeze things hard enough to break them or crush them into something unrecognizable.  This particular thought made my growing hardness press against his fingers.  Mr. Dennis raised his hand a little and moved it inward so his grip would encompass my thick rod, as well.


“Damn boy, you weren’t lying when you said you were turned on by older men.  I don’t mean anything by this next question, but why aren’t you already taken.  Why hasn’t some big older man already snatched your heart, son?”


“I haven’t made the right one, yet, sir.”


“You mean ‘met,’ right?  You said made, which is kind of funny.  Maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink.  Maybe I should be driving, Thomas.”


I had not noticed my own mistake.  I felt my face flash crimson.    How could I have been so clumsy?  Luckily, Mr. Dennis brushed it off as a slip of the tongue and nothing more.  I felt as if I had just escaped death by just a hair.  I was so focused on how perfect this man was for my plan that I had stopped being careful and calculating – the signs of a good scientist.  I shook my head a little and forced myself to double-down on my efforts to focus.  Nothing could get in the way with my plan.  I was too close now to make any more stupid mistakes.  Another reason I was having trouble focusing was the fact that Randy’s hand felt good on my thigh.  His fingers also felt fantastic while they stroked my hardness through my pants.  The guy also kept emitting soft appreciative growls that turned me on – just as he wanted them to, I’m sure.    


“We’d like a booth,” Mr. Dennis said to the host at the restaurant and when he noticed that I looked at him he added, “If we sit across from each other at a table people will think I’m your father.  I want people knowing this is a date.  I want people to think about how virile that old man must be to be out with such a hot young man.  Of course, there’s the chance they’ll think you’re a hustler, but your clothing, your watch, your shoes, and your haircut make it perfectly clear that you have money.  They’ll know it’s a date and they’ll think I still have it going on down under my belt.”


“Honey, you do still have it going on – all over,” said the host – to my utter surprise -  as he listened to our conversation.


“Thank you, young man.  Where’s your tip jar.  I was just kidding, don’t look so shocked,” Mr. Dennis responded.  “I just really appreciate your compliment.”


“I have the perfect booth.  It’s near the center of the restaurant so everyone can see you and it’s curved so you can sit really close,” the guy said, leading us into the restaurant. 


Mr. Dennis put his hand at the small of my back to lead me before him.  I was turned on by the gesture – it felt good to be guided and encouraged at the same time.  His hand stayed there until we arrived at our booth.  As soon as we slid in, he moved to the center of the curve and patted the seat right beside him.  I suddenly didn’t care if even my very conservative grandfather was at the table beside us, I slid over beside the older man and he put his arm around my shoulders as he picked up the wine list.  Suddenly, a memory hit me like a ton of bricks – Old Spice.  Mr. Dennis, a well-dressed, obviously pretty wealthy man, was wearing a cologne I normally attached to accountants, architects, and blue-collared workers.  Don’t ask me to explain the logic – there was no way I could.  It was clearly a hangover memory from my childhood and the scent literally made my cock grow harder.  Once he was as big and strong as the Hulk I would insist he still wear that cologne.


“Tell me what the limit is on my wine choice, Thomas,” Mr. Dennis said as he opened up the wine menu. 


“There are no limits, Mr. Dennis,” I replied, turning to look him in the eye and inhale deeply so I could get another ‘Old Spice’ fix. 


“Do you like your wines strong?” he asked.


“Like my men,” I replied.


He quickly looked at me.  I saw a mixture of adoration, lust, and dominance in his gaze.  It was that last part that interested me the most.  I imagined Mr. Dennis’ already confident attitude soaring off the charts when he was big and powerful.  I thought about how he’d demand attention and obedience with just a little tensing of his bulging muscles. 


“Where have you been all my life, little Tommy,” he asked – with the kind of softness in his voice that also made my toes curl. 


“Waiting for you to find me,” I replied and we stared at each other for what seemed like a good two minutes until he finally spoke.


“Borolo, it is, then.  Nothing compares to the power and stamina of a Borolo.”


I thought about the age and power of a nice Borolo wine.  It seemed symbolic of my taste in men and the perfect choice to seal the secret deal I was about to make with this particular older man.  He was going to be my Borolo man – thick, strong, and aged to perfection.  He was staring at me as I contemplated all that was to come.


“You worry too much, young Thomas,” he said smiling at me.  “Let go.  Enjoy the now.  I’m perfectly content.  This moment is all that I need.  Good wine, wonderful food, a handsome man under my arm, and the promise of a new day tomorrow.  What else could we ask for?”


At that moment, the more-than-handsome wine sommelier stepped up to our table.  Mr. Dennis’ arm immediately got tighter around my shoulders, as if he were a dog marking his territory.  I knew Randy found the guy attractive, no breathing homosexual wouldn’t, but he was more interested in making sure the guy knew that I was taken.  I had never had an older man do that – it was thrilling beyond what I thought was possible and I slid closer to the older man to make sure he knew he had nothing to worry about.  This enabled Randy to be as free as he wanted to be.  I had hoped that would be the outcome.


“God, you’re beautiful,” Mr. Dennis said before the sommelier had a chance to even say hello.  “Tell me about the Giacomo Conterno Monifino Borolo.”


The sommelier and I exchanged glances.  I saw dollar signs spinning around in his eyes like a slot machine.  We had met a few times at different parties around town.  He was a verified ‘catch’ as they say in the gay community but I had never been interested.  He was too young, too pretty, and too ‘put together.’  I wanted my men older and rough around the edges.  We were, however, acquaintances that traveled in the same pack.  I smiled to let him know I realized the wine Mr. Dennis asked about was more than the monthly rent of a three-bedroom apartment in our city and that didn’t make a difference.  The professional sommelier quickly made the wine sound like the best thing since sliced bread and I could tell Mr. Dennis was sold.  I had to admit, I was looking forward to tasting it, myself.


“We’ll take two bottles,” Mr. Dennis said and turned to me quickly.  “I’m paying for one of them, don’t worry, Thomas.  I can pay for both of them if you like.  I don’t have to worry about money.”


It was at that moment I realized I knew very little about my intended muscled husband.  It caused me to pause and seriously think about what I was about to do to this man.  Again, was it legally right?  No.  Was it morally right?  No.  Was I still planning to do it?  Yes.  Surely, he would want this change to.  I suddenly threw caution to the wind and decided it was important for me to know him better – especially some of his desires. 


“I can assure you it’s fine, Mr. Dennis,” I said and smiled at the more-than-ecstatic sommelier.  “This is your birthday and I want to make it a night you never forget.”


A big hand grabbed my crotch under the table.  It didn’t do it softy.  It didn’t do it slowly.  An aggressive paw cupped the base of my hard cock and balls and squeezed hard enough to cause tears in my eyes.  I didn’t mind.  Turning to the older man beside me I smiled and gritted my teeth.  I had never wanted a man as much as I wanted Mr. Dennis.


“I don’t go out much because I’m pretty wealthy and I never know if a guy likes me for who I am or my money,” Mr. Dennis said with the kind of honesty that was moving. 


“Last year, my income was in the nine-digit area,” I replied, to put him at ease.


“Impressive,” he replied, “Mine was close to eleven digits,” Mr. Dennis answered and I was totally unprepared for how money talk could make my dick hard. 


“I’m still paying for the wine,” I said, staking my territory like an alpha dog and the older man was instantly impressed with my boldness.


“I acquiesce,” said Mr. Dennis.  “I know when I am beaten.”


“Hardly,” I said with a boldness I didn’t recognize.  “You let me win, but I’m definitely sure I won the battle, but not the war.  I think you’re too powerful to let me win the war.”


Mr. Dennis brought his hand to the back of my neck and squeezed tightly, causing me to tighten those muscles a little from the discomfort.  But I truly found the move a turn-on and very pleasurable.  He could sense that. 


“You want your old man to be powerful, don’t you, Thomas?”


“Yes sir,” I whispered, looking into his eyes.


“I’m afraid I might disappoint.  I’m not as strong and tough as I used to be.”


“Do you wish you were?” I asked hesitantly. 


There it was.  The question that could truly seal my destiny.  I quickly wondered if I could walk away from this man if he answered in the negative.  I was so invested in him by this point – not meaning money – but with my heart.  He was everything I had ever dreamed of – and even more.  He had that rare ability to be an alpha one minute and then a teddy-bear the next.  I just wanted him to be a huge, bulging teddy-bear.  Was that so wrong?  Could I truly back out of this plan if he answered that he did not want to change?  I found that I was holding my breath in anticipation. 


“Since it would please you, yeah . . . yeah I do,” he answered, smiling at me – and there was the teddy-bear.


“But would it please you?” I asked, choosing to push the conversation into dangerous waters.


“I don’t dream of being younger, if that’s what you’re asking, Thomas,” Randy answered as the sommelier returned and showed the older man the first bottle of Borolo. 


With a quick nod of his head, Mr. Dennis affirmed that the bottle of wine was correct and the good employee backed away from the table to open it – so as to not interrupt what he could tell was an important conversation.  Mr. Dennis returned his gaze to me.


“What if you could be big and powerful at the age you are now?”


“Hell, son, why do you think I trek to the gym so many days a week?  I’m doing the best an old man can do.  A lot of guys my age are rocking it in walkers, you know.”


“You are doing more than fine, Mr. Dennis,” I said quickly and his hand squeezed my neck again.  “We’re simply dreaming here.  I’m getting to know you better – how you think, what makes you tick.  I’m interested in your fantasies.”


To my complete disappointment, our conversation had to be interrupted so Mr. Dennis could sample the wine – which had been moved to a stunning decanter so it could breathe.  The entire process seemed to take hours.  Finally, after affirming how great it tasted and complimenting the cute sommelier, we got our two hefty pours and said cheers looking into each other’s eyes.  Mr. Dennis was now lightly massaging my neck.  It felt good and went perfectly with the incredible wine. 


“Where were we?” Mr. Dennis asked and then said, “Oh yeah.  Do I fantasize about being a man in his seventies with the body of Lou Ferrigno?”


“Yes,” I quickly answered, picturing that golden behemoth, “that’s exactly what I mean.”


“Well, let’s get a little more specific.  Would I just look like Lou?  You know, like one of those young steroid bunnies or would I have the inner workings of a young virile stud, too.  What’s the good of being big if you still can’t get it up that often and you still have to go to the bathroom four to five times during the night to pee.”


“Yes!  You’d have the inner workings of Lou, too,” I said, sounding a little too frustrated, which Mr. Dennis clearly noticed.


“Who knew my fantasies could be such an interest to you, Thomas?  There’s no need to get testy.  We’re just having some fun here, right?”


“I’m sorry.  You’re right.  I can get carried away, sometimes,” I quickly apologized.  “It’s just . . . that . . . um . . . it’s what I fantasize about.”


How in the hell had we gotten to the point where I would be so completely honest?  I was not being a good scientist.  A good one never let his own needs or desires influence the outcome of an experiment, although wasn’t that what all of this was?  A good scientist, even if doing self-satisfying work, needed to stay neutral, which I was not.  Mr. Dennis smiled at my confession.


“You’d like to have a big muscled gramps, huh, Thomas?”


“A big muscled powerful gramps, sir.”


“Look at you, with your lust for an elder Hercules or senior He-Man.  That’s adorable, son.  Yeah, kid . . . yeah.  What normal, breathing guy doesn’t every now and then wish he was some powerful humongous stud.  I don’t tend to fantasize that much, Thomas, but I guess I sometimes dream about what it would be like to be huge with a smaller guy I could take care of.  A guy like you – only you’re bigger than me.”


Mr. Dennis misunderstood the reason for the tears in my eyes.  He thought I was a little ‘off-my-rocker’ and wanted to be babied by an older man.  He thought the tears came because he had said he’d like to take care of a guy like me.  I guess on some level he was right, but the tears were actually because I knew – without any doubt, now – that he would be the man I would turn into my powered gramps. 

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I love where this is going. I can't wait to see how Randy grows and how his attitude is enhanced by his growth and incredible strength. 

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