m/m The Wrecking Crew's Muscle Lottery (FINALE added Aug 23)

[jkmuscle]

CHAPTER 5: THE WRECKING CREW
 

The Next Week, Thanksgiving Day
John’s family was impressed by how much healthier he looked than he had at their Labor Day get-together.  They’d been too polite to mention it before dinner, but after dinner was served and drinks started flowing, filters started to be let down. John’s sister was the first to bring it up to him.

“Thanks. I’m blessed to have my health back.  I realized I can’t take it for granted anymore, and I’ve been hitting the gym.” John explained to his cousins. 

“You and Tristan should work out together!” shouted one of the aunts over a glass of wine. “Looks like you could teach Tristan a thing or two!” The aunt squeezed John’s newly buff arm. John blushed in embarrassment.

“Nah, he’d be showing me up,” John said reticently.

“Oh my gosh, you two should arm wrestle!”

Tristan was never one to back down from a competition. He pushed up his sleeve to expose his arm, then had his elbow on the table in a flash. He wanted his girlfriend to see him show up someone older and bigger. His bicep bunched up from the bend in his arm, and it bounced up and down a few times as he waited for John to rise to the challenge.  

 

Tristan’s girlfriend got out her phone to record.

John sighed.  He locked hands with Tristan, John’s brother counted the two off, and they started pulling.

John pulled with about 80% to start. Tristan’s wrist didn’t bend how he wanted, though, and Tristan’s hand didn’t budge.

“That all you got, big guy?” Tristan taunted John.

John strained with all his might. He started forcing Tristan toward the table, but then Tristan kicked into his own higher gear, and quickly pushed John’s hand to the table. 

The whole family was happy for Tristan, but were a little disappointed how much of a blowout it had been. Tristan crowned the champion, the drunk aunts moved onto other topics, leaving John and Tristan to take a walk. 

Tristan looked at John. “Uncle J, what’s your plan for your boss Casen? You said you wanted to make him pay for what he did to you.”
“I dunno, I guessed I’d beat him up when I was big.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work.  I shouldn’t have been able to kick your ass like that.  You said Casen’s fucking huge, and he works out all the time. Just getting bigger won’t do it.” 
John sighed. “Yeah.”
“Do you want me to show you how to work out? I bet you’ll get strong as fuck, especially if you keep growing.”
“I think that’d be awesome.”
“And if you’re going to fight Casen, you’re going to need to train.  I can help you with that, too.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“And you’re going to need help. You won’t be able to do this alone.”
John was shocked how little of this he’d thought through. “Who do you think I should ask?”
“Why not all the other guys in the lottery?”

It wasn’t a bad idea.

“I’ll text everyone tomorrow,” John said.
“Cool.  I’m free all day. Let’s lift in the evening.”

John spent his food-coma time half-watching the football games, and texting all the guys in the lottery. He explained his plan that they needed to get into shape to beat Casen.

Ryan, a few days into his cycle, was super pumped to let out his aggression with some MMA. John was glad he wasn’t mad about losing precious muscle to the lottery that was John’s idea.  He said he’d bring his husband, Andy, too. 

Hemanth was also pretty easy to convince.  He’d always been more of a gym junkie than his colleagues.

Greg and Martin decided they didn’t want to join. “Oh, well,” thought John, “They’d be too small to be any good in a fight anyway.” Adam also hadn’t recovered enough size since he lost the lottery, and declined.

William also in, but it’d have to work around his schedule at his new job tending bar.  “No big deal,” John responded.

Max was also totally down. “Hey, yeah, Been waiting for some help taking these new muscles for a spin! So fucking hard not to be horny looking at myself all the time. Not jealous of hot guys--I’d never get anything done if I could just jerk off to myself any time I wanted,” Max texted.
“Lol I feel you.” John replied.

So John made a group text thread.
JOHN: So tomorrow, 2:00, with Coach Tristan at Gold’s Gym?
WILLIAM: I’m there but only till 5.
HEMANTH: Hell yeah
RYAN: FUCK YEAH!
Ryan sent a picture of his bicep. All the other guys “liked” it.
TRISTAN: HIIT cardio and leg day best day braaaaahhhs
RYAN: Sick.

TRISTAN: For the fight, what is your plan, again?

JOHN: We’re going to beat Casen’s ass
TRISTAN: And you have no fighting experience?
MAX: That’s right.
MAX: Well, I had a twink slap me in a bar once for cheering for the wrong girl on Drag Race.  That got pretty heated…
TRISTAN: Yeah, that doesn’t count.
TRISTAN: We’re going to start from the beginning.We can hit up the wrestling gym after we lift.

John set the name of the group: The Wrecking Crew.

Then, John got a text he didn’t expect.  It was from Trent.
TRENT: Hey, I know it’s been a while. I wanted to talk about what happened. Can we get coffee tomorrow?
JOHN: Sure.

They agreed to a time and place. John spent the evening thinking about what he could say to Trent the whole way home from Thanksgiving and until he fell asleep.

Black Friday
John met Trent in the coffee shop. It was a brisk morning, but he was still dressed in his tank top for the gym session with the Wrecking Crew that afternoon. 

“Hey…” started Trent. “I’m sorry I fell off the face of the earth.”
“It’s okay, dude, we’ve all had a weird time.”
“No, it’s more than that. I’ve been avoiding you because...because I’m the one who fucked you all over with Casen.” 

John didn’t know how to respond. “What are you talking about?”

 
“Didn’t you ever figure out what happened?  Casen wanted Amagnathon to fuck him. And...I commanded Amagnathon to do that. In my mind. Because Casen bribed me to. He said he’d pay me with some of the muscle.” 

John was speechless. 

“I’m sorry.” Trent started to cry. “I was greedy. I had no idea what would happen to you guys. It cost me all your friendships. Please, can you forgive me?” 

John wasn’t one to hold a grudge, but he was done being played for a fool. “How do I know you’re not screwing us over somehow?” 

“Does it LOOK like Casen paid me?” Trent pointed to his arms, which were still noodly, like John’s were before John had gotten big in the lottery. “I want to make him pay.”
 

John knew he’d have to keep an eye on Trent, but he was convinced. “Oddly enough, that’s what I’m working on, too. Obviously I’ve found a way to get in better shape. I can’t get you that, but I’m starting a...fight club. Do you want to join?” 

“I thought you might be doing something like that,” replied Trent. “I’m very much willing to join, because you’re more screwed than you think. Unfortunately, Casen knows you’re coming.”

“What are you talking about?”

Trent pulled out his phone. “I haven’t talked to Casen since Amagnathon. But he sent me this last night.”

It was a screenshot from Tristan’s girlfriend’s Instagram. She’d posted the video of the arm wrestling match and tagged Tristan. Casen must have stalked everyone John knew, because Casen texted Trent:

CASEN: Tell your little friend he’s gonna need a LOT more work on those guns if he’s gonna come at me.

John was stunned at what Trent had just showed him.

He gulped, and said, “Trent, thank you for bringing this up. That was very...big of you.”

He finished his coffee, grabbed his gym bag, and stood up. “Welcome to the Wrecking Crew, Trent. Let’s get to work.” 

[jkmuscle]

 

Two weeks later, Friday Night
Two weeks of solid workouts with the Wrecking Crew had done wonders for Hemanth’s strength. He pushed up his last rep of 405 pounds on the bench. He didn’t have a spotter, but for warm-up weight like that, he didn’t really need one.

He slapped another plate on each side. 

The weight was easier this time. Fuck...how? He’d been making progress lately but this was insane!

He got up from his set and flexed in the mirror.  

 

“Looking good!” the call from behind him came from Ryan. Ryan was now the biggest guy in teh gym.  Or, the guy who had been the biggest. Hemanth was giving him a run for his money all of a sudden.

“What’s your workout today?”
“Just finishing up with some bench.  Getting 50 reps in at this weight in as few sets as possible.”
“Sick.  Need a spot?”
“Hell yeah, bro.”

Hemanth set up under the nearly quarter ton of steel and counted off.  The weight felt...weighless.  He pumped out rep after rep, not even slowing down.

“Annnd...50!” counted Ryan, and he grabbed the bar and racked it. It felt like the whole gym shook.

“Guess I’m done!” Hemanth flexed his pecs to feel the pump.
“Sweet. I just finished up, too. I’m gonna hit the shower if you wanna come.”

“Holy. Fuck,” Hemanth thought as he turned to follow the bodybuilding champ through the gym.  All the other guys turned their heads to watch the pair of muscle dudes strut off, knowing what was about to go down. 

 

They got to the locker room, and Ryan stripped and put his clothes in the locker.  Hemanth had been eyeing the incredible mounts of muscle of Ryan’s ass for years, but finally seeing them perfectly round and tanned in front of him was better than he’d ever imagined--he’d never seen striations on glutes before, but there they were. And he was going to get his hands on them.

Then Ryan turned around, and Hemanth had even more to be excited for. Ryan’s cock was...prodigious. He was soft, but it was still probably 7 inches long, and it swung thick and heavy.  Hemanth wondered how he’d missed that bulge before.

“You comin’?” Ryan asked as he sauntered off to the showers.
“We both will be,” responded Hemanth as he followed.

Ryan found the shower stall he wanted, the biggest one, but it was the only one with another guy in it.  Some skinny-fat accountant type.

“You about done in here?” Ryan asked.
“Got a few more minutes.  Use one of the open ones.” the guy responded.
“Oh, no, that wasn’t a question.” Ryan explained as he stepped into the stall.  His cock started expanding, like Ryan was unsheathing a sword.
“Oh…” and the accountant scuttled off, before even rinsing his hair.

Hemanth joined Ryan in the still-steaming room. 

“You’ve been packing on the muscle, bro!” said Ryan as he turned and started caressing Hemanth’s arms. 
“I didn’t know you were into me.”
“I wasn’t. Until you got...big enough to suit me.”
“How big do guys need to be?”
“Bigger than me.  Or very close, if they’re growing. And they have to be ripped. Shredded is better.”
“You must not get laid much.”
“My husband’s a busy man.”

Ryan rubbed his hands along Hemanth’s 8-pack. Then he kissed him. They made out for a long time, traded blow jobs, and worshipped each other’s stunning physiques.

Then came a rude interruption. A beleaguered 18-year-old local kid gym janitor came to the stall and said “Guys, you gotta cut that out.”

Hemanth didn’t know what got in him, but he knew he was NOT going to miss out on this. He rose to his full height over the kid, standing just far enough away so his rock-hard 10-incher didn’t poke the kid in the chest, bounced his pecs once and said “Make me.” The kid ran.

“Fuck, dude, TAKE ME.” Ryan pleaded.  Hemanth didn’t need to be asked twice. He spun Ryan around and made him get on all fours on the locker room bench.  Still soapy from the shower, he slid into Ryan easy and started fucking.

It wasn’t every day that 700 pounds of muscle-man fucked in that locker room.  So naturally they drew a crowd. One guy even got out his phone and started recording.  A couple started grabbing their cocks and subtly started stroking through the fabric.  One even got out his cock and tried to spit-roast Ryan, but Ryan threw him aside with one swipe of  his arm, pointing to the only other muscular guy in the locker room. It was John, who had just come in to start his workout.  Soon enough he had one in both ends. 

Hemanth reached around Ryan’s waist and dug his fingers in between the ridges of his abs to get a better grip on the wet, sweaty bodybuilder.  

 

Soon enough, Ryan was letting his cum fly over the locker room.

“Give me your load, big guy!” he shouted at Hemanth.

Hemanth was all to happy to oblige. His balls pulled in to his body as he fucked Ryan furiously and the waves of orgasm started to wash over him…

 

And Hemanth woke up to something splashing him in his face.  “What the fuck?” he thought. Then he realized it had all--Ryan, John, being so big, benching 495, all of it--had been a dream.  The two weeks of working out with Ryan and John must have made a bigger impression on him and his fantasies than he’d realized.

He reached up to see what had hit his face. It was white and sticky. 

Then he realized he was in the middle of an orgasm. He looked at his clock.  2:30 AM.

He’d had a wet dream.  The lottery had been going on so long and he’d gone so long without cumming he had a wet dream that hit his face and woke him up. 

“Shit,” he thought. “Maybe it won’t count?”

But as his orgasm ended, he found out he wasn’t that lucky. He started feeling faint and shrinking.

“Fuck, but it’s not my fault!” he pleaded. “It’s not my fault…”

[Jtchef2]

Sick new chapter

[jkmuscle]

The Same Friday Night, Downtown

“LAST CALL FOR ALCOHOL” shouted William. The office Christmas parties were dispersing, and the bar was emptying out as the guys paired off and went home, or headed off to the late-night clubs. But a few customers were still dancing or just hanging out, talking, or making out at the bar.

William was making good money slinging drinks. He, like the other guys who’d fallen victim to Casen, quit his office job. But his twinky frame kept him working the dive bar, until his progress in the lottery helped him bulk up. After he gained 32 pounds, he put in a text to the owner of the jock club (Called, creatively, JOCK) at the other end of the gay strip, and sure enough, he found himself in a new gig. 

The uniform at JOCK was white shorts and the tightest possible black tank top. On William, it revealed a tight torso, and barely contained his bulging chest and perfectly accented his cannonball shoulders.  William liked working at JOCK.

William turned to face a man in a suit who’d bellied up to the bar. Being in a suit in this place was weird-this was a bar where the beautiful, young, athletic guys came to show off their bodies. But the suit was a fashionable, flattering cut and was a bright green, so in a way the man fit in.

William raised his eyebrow at the man to silently ask what he wanted.
“Two vodka tonics,” the man replied.
William silently poured the drinks, and dropped in the lime slice.  “12 bucks,” he said.

The man threw down his card, said “Close it out.” 

William ran the card and gave the receipt for the signature.  As the man was signing, he looked at William and asked, “What are you doing after y’all close?”

“I gotta get to everybody else,” William gestured to the rest of the customers who’d answered the Last Call.

“Stay. I’ll make it worth your while,” said the man, as he casually got a crisp $100 bill from his wallet and slid it to William.

William took the money, and sidled up to the bar across his new friend. “I can talk for a minute. I’m free after we close. What did you have in mind?”
“Back to my hotel room.”

“I’m not into that line of work.”
“I think we can find a price we agree on. You’re my type.”

“Try me.” 

“Five grand.”

William’s heart skipped a beat. He squinted at the stranger.
“Holy crap, you’re…”
“Patrick Healey, yes.” 

Now the outlandish request made sense. Patrick was a billionaire. Known for his taste in young twinks, and flying them around for vacations, employing them as “housekeepers,” and so on.  
“That’s very kind but I can’t.”
“What would it take?”

It was right then that William felt the warmth start to flow into his body. Hemanth had just lost the lottery.  He was about to grow, right then and there in the bar. He knew he was about to be 32 pounds heavier.

William grinned. “You haven’t seen all the goods.”
He started growing. His pecs, already with a healthy shelf, started stretching the straps on the tank top to a ludicrous amount.  With each pump of his heart, seemingly, his muscles gulped down a dose of size.

It was subtle at first, but soon enough Patrich saw what was happening. “What the fuck…?” he said under his breath.
“Unbelievable, isn’t it?” William said.

Patrick nodded.

“There’s more where that came from,” said William as he flexed a bicep in front of him. It swelled up into a perfect baseball, the skin paper-thin.
“There’s more where that came from,” Patrick gestured to the Ben Franklin on the bar. “50 grand.”

“I don't think you understand,” William responded.  He tensed all the muscles in his back and chest.  The tank top gave way.  It started to rip down the front, exposing rippling striations running down to a deepening cavern between his pecs.

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, big guy,” William explained.  “Five hundred thousand.”
“Deal.”
“Let’s go, then.” William’s core muscles were swelling and straining the remains of the tank top, so he took one hand and ripped it off.  He vaulted over the bar and tossed the rag over to the other bartender. “You clean up, I have a date tonight,” he said as he took Patrick’s arm in his as the two walked out the door and over to the Ferrari waiting outside.


William guessed he’d gained 20 pounds of pure, shredded muscle by the time they made it to Patrick’s condo.

“I take my money up front.” William said.
“Of course.” Patrick wrote him a check. “Don’t worry, I’m good for it.”
“Cash, dumbass. You think I’m paying taxes?”
“At this hour?”
“Call your people.”

Patrick blew in a call for the cash, then it was off to bed for the sex Patrick had fantisized for his entire life.  William looked like some kind of gymnast/superhero/bodybuilder/science project hybrid. He was up to 250 pounds at 5’3”. 

Patrick’s load was inside William by 6 in the morning when the two went to bed.

When they rose around noon, William was strutting around the condo in just some slippers as Patrick made brunch, Patrick broached the subject, “Okay, I have to ask, how did you do that?  You were NOT that big in the bar!” asked Patrick.
“It’s magic.”
“No shit.”
“No. Really. I grow sometimes. It’s random, but it was your lucky night.”
“What breaks the spell?”
“Cumming.”
“What?”
“Why do you think I didn’t get off last night?”
“I wasn’t thinking about it, honestly.”
“Yep.”

After brunch they were back at it again.  Patrick sprayed his second load all over William’s shell of 10 abs. Then he issued his command. “I want you to fuck me.” 

 

“All right, but like I said I’m not cumming.”
“The hell you’re not.” 

“You can literally not make me do anything I don’t want to. Unless you’re missing the fact that my arms recently outgrew your thighs, business-boy.”
“I need your load in me. I’ll pay extra. Double.”

One. Million. Dollars. 

“Life-changing” didn’t describe what that amount of money would do for William.  Patrick updated his secretary’s instructions for picking up cash.

It was 1:00 when Patrick’s secretary dropped off a suitcase with a million dollars in 20s. Patrick went to pick it up. It took both hands to heave it onto the bed.

“Fuck, this must be over 100 pounds!” said Patrick.
“Let me see it.” said William.
William took the suitcase and stood on the bed. “It’s not that heavy.” He took it in one hand. Then he started curling it.

That put Patrick over the edge. He threw his arms around William’s rock-solid waist and threw him on the bed.  Then he took out a wad of the 20s and started making it rain on him. William splayed across the bed surrounded by the cash, his cock standing perfectly at attention.

Half an hour later, he’d put his load deep into Patrick. He promptly started to lose 128 pounds of muscle.

William put on a robe so Patrick wouldn’t have to watch.  Patrick seemed horrified when he saw William wasn’t lying about getting smaller once he’d cum.

By the end, William was frail. He’d been curling the suitcase an hour before.  As he left Patrick’s condo, he couldn’t even pick it up off the ground.  He needed a cart to get it to the Uber he’d called.

As he rolled the cart down the sidewalk, he considered all the work he’d have to do to get his body back, but also that he’d never have to make another Cosmopolitan again. Or, set foot in an office and work for any of the Casens of the world, ever again. He had one thought:

“Worth it.” 

[jkmuscle]

 

A Thursday Night in mid-January.

Tristan let John and Max into the wrestling gym. Max had wanted even more training from Tristan, he was worried about the fight with Casen. But the training had been going on for weeks, and John was worried about losing the Lottery, and about Max’s readiness in general.

 

“Thank you so much for doing this, dude.” John told the champion wrestler as he turned sideways to fit through the door.
“No worries man. We’re a team.” Tristan said.

 

Stretches ensued, along with some push-ups and light agility work.  After a while it was time for the lesson, but by then all three boys were already hot and sweaty. All three shirts came off.
 

It was really a sight to see. Tristan had recovered all the muscle he’d lost in the lottery, and then some, and his young metabolism kept him from gaining an ounce of fat, seemingly.  But John and Max, each having won 128 pounds in the lottery so far, were true monsters.  

 

Tristan eyed the two linebacker-sized men in front of him. “Always have to remember I’m glad I’m not in your weight class!” he remarked. Max blushed.

John had been getting pretty good. half-bad; he was able to do all the crawling and rolling around. Max had always a tougher time.

“Okay, fundamentals once again,” Tristan began. “Face your opponent, and put your arms in front of your face, like this…” 

For nearly two hours, they worked on grappling, punching, deflecting, and holds. It was clear that while John was totally new, he picked up on it pretty quickly.  Max, on the other hand, had 2 left feet. And 2 left arms. 

 

“Okay, John. Now put your weight on the other foot and PULL!” Tristan coached. John did as he was told, and sent Max flying over his hips and slammed him down on the mat. 

“Great!  Take a break.  Max, you got your breath? Good. Come here.” Tristan tried to set Max up for success “Here. Try to hold me in a full Nelson, Max.” Five seconds later, the boy had wriggled his way out of Max’s grip and had his arm around Max’s neck.

“Fuck, man,” Max sighed. “I’m never going to get this.” A tear of angry frustration started to well up in his eye.
 

“Yes you will!  It’ll just take time!” both Tristan and John encouraged their friend.

“No. No, I won’t hold you back.” Max started to cry as he ran out of the gym into the locker room. 

 

He slammed the door and locked it behind him. John banged on it for his friend to come out. 

“John, do you trust me?”
John knelt outside the door.
“You don’t have to do this.” John urged Max.
“Will you get that fucker for me?” Max asked.
John paused.  “Yes.”
“Then let me do this.  Take this gift and use it to kill him.”
“I’ll do my best, buddy.”

John and Tristan waited. They heard Max huffing and puffing for a minute or two behind the door. It stopped.

John started to grow. He’d been getting thicker more than taller, but it looked like even the magic couldn’t find enough room on him to put 128 pounds of new muscle. So he screamed as his bones stretched taller, and his shoulders grew wider to allow it all to graft onto him. Then his whole body got warm as he started inflating. He had to take steps sideways as the hamstrings and adductors in his thighs thickened his stance. His calves flexed and expanded until you could eat dinner off the flat faces of each head. Quads protruded. His ass grew thick, wide, and was bursting with the power he’d need to carry out his mission.

John’s waist was getting thicker, but not from fat. Rather, all around, starting with his erectors, and abs, all the muscles in the walls of his abs were growing like he was some sort of mutant, like what men would be if we’d bred them for hundreds of generations for their meat.  The veins covering his lower abs extended all the way up his now 10-pack of abs, which were individually inflating and stretching until they were as wide as his now ground-pointing nipples. The nipples were on the most unimaginably thick set of pecs, which weren’t just hanging, but were thick and pert all the way up to his now-incredibly-wide collarbone. The pecs flowed immediately into a powerful set of shoulders, and they fought for space with biceps that seemingly had nowhere to grow but out.  His triceps similarly were pushed out by his lats, which themselves had extended themselves down his back, making the triangle of his torso taper down almost to the top of his shredded glutes. 

It wasn’t just his show muscles that grew, either.  His neck and traps expanded.  His hands and fingers that he’d need to choke out Casen, they thickened too.  He’d have no trouble bending his nemesis to his will, now.  Or bending anything, really.

His cock, which had been hard since he looked and saw his arms' new power, started stretching upward. That morning, it poked out his waistband.  Now, it was advancing until it reached his belly button, and it was wider than any boyfriend he'd get could comfortably take without some major popper use. It took all his mental strength not to start stroking it just to see how big a blast his weeks-long load would be out of such a big hose. 

He briefly admired himself. Almost exactly 400 pounds, at 6 feet tall.  But there was little time for that.

He leaned into the door. A moment before, it had kept him from his friend. Now he pushed through it like cardboard. John found Max lying on the floor.  Max might have been 160 pounds at the lottery. Losing 128 pounds in the lottery might have been too much.  Magic was keeping him alive, but only barely.
 

“Oh..oh shit…” whispered Tristan.

“We can’t stay here.” John’s voice boomed in a new lower register. “Call 911. Tell them he’s anorexic and has refused treatment.”
 

Tristan’s heart raced as he blew in the call. 

“Now,” John said as he texted the rest of The Wrecking Crew who were still strong enough to fight. “We’re going to take a little trip.” 

[Jtchef2]

Wow, very powerful chapter

[jkmuscle]

Saturday Night
It had been a long day’s drive to New York, but they’d taken Saturday to loosen up their bodies, eat their fill of carbs and protein to fuel up (It was no small feat feeding their tank John.), maybe a glass of wine, and (for the ones who’d already lost the lottery), some fucking.

John shared a room with Tristan as they were the two who weren’t hooking up that trip, (Being, as John was, a monk for one more night, and Tristan being underaged, his nephew, and with a girlfriend at home). As they turned in for an early night, Tristan asked, “Are you nervous?”

“About the fight? No” 
“It’s your first fight. You sure?” 

“Nah! I got trained by the best!”
“Haha thanks.”
“But no, whatever he brings, I have you all with me. And I know we can do anything.” 

“That’s right, that’s right.” 

“I couldn’t...we couldn’t have done this without you, Trist.  Thank you.” 

“Same to you, man. You showed me how close I am to beating Ethan. Then you made me fight hard to get back where I was before. I learned a lot about what I’m capable of, and what I’m not afraid of anymore.”

John smiled.  He remembered being that young.

“Night, dude.”
“Night.”

 

Sunday Afternoon.  Casen’s House. 

The Wrecking Crew rolled up to Casen’s McMansion. The six men nervously looked around as they walked up to the door and rang the bell. 

Casen’s voice boomed. “COME ON IN, IT’S OPEN.”

They entered.  “I’M IN THE GARAGE.”

They followed his voice through the kitchen hallway and into the garage. They heard the clanging of weights.

They saw Casen had set up a full gym for himself.  It must have been a hundred thousand dollars of equipment, a full bodybuilding setup with all the machines and cardio, as well as power platforms and functional fitness toys like massive truck tires and concrete balls.  It was clear Casen lived in this room constantly. 

“Oh, no…” John was tallest so he could see over top of the machine first.  But when Casen let go of the weight and rose, the rest could see they’d made a grave mistake.
 

“I’ve been expecting you,” said Casen smugly.  “And as you can see, I’ve been getting ready.”
 

He flexed a double-bicep. The boys remembered how big Casen was when he’d finished absorbing Amagnathon.  He had been about as big as John after John had grown.  But now he dwarfed John. He had swelled to well over 7 feet tall, and his arms must have been 27 or 28 inches. And, like John, completely solid muscle.

“How….” was all John could say. 

“How did I get bigger since you last saw me? Could it be a new diet and a cycle stacked with a SARM or two? Nah. Even blasting Tren couldn’t have put any more size on than you guys gave me.”

The veins in John’s forehead started pulsing.  He knew where this was going.

“No,” Casen continued, “I needed something even more radical than what Science has to offer to get the size I need.  I had to turn to magic.” He glanced around the stunned men. “I was in your little lottery, too.  Or should I say ‘big lottery.’” 

“You little fucker,” Ryan spat.

“You mean ‘biiig fucker.” Casen laughed.  “Yep, that witch works for me, and she always will.  You think some cash is enough to buy her? What the fuck do you think a witch does with money? She wants me, and she wants me to be big. She’s growing me because it’s her passion. And she got you all to fuel my growth even more.”

“How?” John asked more forcefully this time. 

 

“Oh, that bottle of magic potion she put in the cauldron with all your little loads? Yeah, my load was in there too.  I’ve been growing just like the rest of you.  I don’t even know how big I am. I had two bathroom scales, and I used to stand with one foot on each, but since my last growth spurt they say I’m too big even for that.  So I must be over 700 pounds. I’ve been thinking of walking into a truck scale to see what they say.”

Casen looked at the time. 

“Oh, and the witch is on her way here. She’s looking forward to a night with a half-ton of solid man.  So, whatever you think you’re going to do to me, you better get started.”

Casen raised his arms, inviting the Wrecking Crew to take their best shot. 

They wasted no time.

Tristan, Ryan and Andy, and Trent ran at Casen and piled on to him, but it didn’t do much good. It looked like the commercials when an NFL player visits a Kindergarden and 5 or 6 toddlers climb all over the man.

“Is that all you got?” Casen chuckled as he roughly tossed Tristan, who landed on a truck tire. .

It wasn’t. A second later, John sprinted headlong into the great wall of Casen’s abs. John was a good bit smaller than Casen, but he was able to knock the giant off balance and into the back wall of the gym, leaving a tremendous hole in the drywall.

It was a great spot for Casen to be.  He’d never tested out how much he could bench in his new form, but that was only because the weight bar couldn’t hold it.  So he’d been stuck repping 800 pounds basically for cardio.  But with his back up against the studs of the wall, he was able to put the full force of his chest muscles into throwing John off of him.

One push sent John hurtling back across the deadlift platforms.

Casen stood up, brushed himself off, and started to walk over to John, who was slow to rise.

He didn’t get to start gloating, however, when a shout came out from behind him. 

Tristan had caught his breath and was brandishing the 9-pound sledge hammer. Casen might have been big, but such a thing was definitely still lethal.

Casen turned around to face the boy.  Tristan took a quick step toward Casen and gave a swing that Casen deflected, and narrowly missed an uppercut from Casen’s monumental arm. Tristan was quick on his feet and took a step back, and leveled a mighty swing over Casen’s head. 

 

Casen watched the hammer head come down. But he wasn’t afraid. He simply reached his hand up and caught the steel hammer, stopping it cold before it hit him. Tristan tried to pull it back, but Casen’s mighty hands had it in a vice grip. 

Tristan was shocked. Then, he let go of the hammer, and pointed behind Casen, who turned just in time to see John raising one of the solid concrete Atlas stones above his head and hurling it straight at Casen’s face.

………..

 

When Casen woke up, he had a broken nose. As he gained consciousness, he tried to move, and found he was chained up by his limbs to his squat rack.  He gave a huge pull with his monstrous biceps, but even he couldn’t bend the metal the Wrecking Crew had used to restrain him.

“Fuck you,” he spat. “You could have killed me.”

“Oh stop it you big baby,” said John.  “Now, before our mutual friend arrives, I believe you have a contract with one of my friends.”

Trent came forward and pulled down Casen’s shorts. “Imagine I’m a hot babe,” he said as he started stroking Casen’s massive cock. It took a lot of work, but Casen’s manhood started responding to the stimulation. 

“You gonna give me what you owe me?” said Trent in between sucking.

“I’m not giving you shit.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Trent, whose sucking got more intense.

It took several more minutes, but eventually Casen couldn’t resist Trent’s ministrations any longer.

“NNNoooo. Please, Trent! NOOOOO!” Casen yelled as his balls drew up close to his body and he unloaded his massive load into Trent’s face.

Trent knew immediately he was going to get the muscle Casen had refused to give him after the night with Amagnathon.  He’d longed for this day.

He felt his arms and abs bubbling with new muscle, and felt his head rising up as his legs built more muscle around the knees he was down on.

But more than that, he felt Casen melting away before his very eyes. 

Casen wasn’t just donating the 75 pounds of muscle he owed Trent, he was losing 512 pounds from the lottery as well.  When Trent started sucking him off, Trent couldn’t see Casen’s face for the massive shelf of pecs in the way. Yet when he looked up now, he was happy to see the despicable man’s shocked, pained expression.

Trent swallowed surge after surge of cum, as Casen’s shrinking body allowed him to get his arms around Casen’s disappearing glutes to hold his face all the way down the shaft.  Not that that was all that impressive anymore, given Casen had shrunk from his hoagie-sized pussy ruiner to a standard 6-7 inches.

By the time it was over, Trent was 6 foot 3 at 240 pounds. He wasn’t bodybuilding-show ready, but he knew he would be soon, with his new muscles becoming a roaring furnace of fat shredding.

And then, John started to get the final round of his lottery winnings. He’d be 512 pounds bigger than when he started, and had 256 pounds to gain.

“Fuck, guys, it’s starting!” He was growing right there in front of the Wrecking Crew.

They heard the thwap-thwap-thwap of helicopter blades in the distance. Tristan assumed that was Casen’s witch-date, and he knew they didn’t want to be there when she arrived. “That’s great, Uncle John, but we gotta get out of here.” Tristan said.

“But what about Casen?” Max asked.
“I have a plan for him,” said John.

The Crew ran to the van, leaving Casen chained up. The suspension of the van groaned under John’s massive bulk. As they made their getaway, John looked out the back window to see the helicopter flying toward Casen’s house. 

John grew as they drove down the interstate back to the hotel.  By the time they got there, he had been laid down on the back floor, and now stretched all the way from the back to the front seats.  When his buddies opened the door for him, he had to push his way out, squeezing and shimmying his shoulders out the back of the van like it was giving birth to the largest man ever to live.  It helped that the muscles had burst out of the shirt he had worn that morning, and the only clothes left were his gym shorts, which would have been baggy basketball shorts on anyone except John.

He marched through the hotel lobby in nothing but his skin-tight basketball shorts. He knew he was going to like getting stares.

The Crew got to their rooms, and Tristan took some time in the hotel gym to give John and Trent some alone time.  He could tell the two new studs had a lot of energy they needed to work out on each other. 

Trent and John licked every sinewy strand of muscle on each other’s bodies. They caressed, they played rough.  They measured all their new features. And of course they fucked each other. 

3 hours in to their session, John was fucking Trent when Trent blew his load.  John came at the same time. For a brief moment, he was horrified he might be fainting--”Wait, did I actually not win? Did she trick me again?”

But a moment later the head fog had cleared. It was just the most mind-blowing orgasm he could imagine--it had been weeks, after all, and Trent was supermodel beautiful and very much into John.

Trent had clearly also had an amazing time. Waves of ecstasy were crashing over him well after John pulled out.

“What are we going to do now?”  Trent asked John.

“Well, it’s 9:00.  We could hit the club. Or go for round 2.” 

“Oh, forget the club in NYC. Let’s fly to Miami next weekend and see if people there can hold a candle to us,” voted Trent.

“Sounds great.” said John. 

“Also, why did you leave Casen that way?  What’s your plan?” 

John got out his phone. He pulled up a picture of the witch’s Spell Book he snuck while they were waiting on her to get the ingredients for the lottery. “I have some intel. We can talk about it later. But I think we’ll be able to put all this behind us.” 

“Oh, you’re so mysterious. Now, be honest with me now, though: What can we do?  I...kinda want to see you more when we get home?”
John paused.  “I think I’d like that.”

Trent smiled.


Sunday Afternoon, Casen’s Garage.

Casen hung by his chains as he heard the helicopter land in his front yard.  He had chills, and was sweating and panting, the loss of his physique clearly having an immense impact on him.

The helicopter door opened.  A tall, slender woman in a power suit got out of the passenger compartment, and grabbed her expensive-looking leather clutch. Barely a strand of her hair was out of place as she walked toward the garage door.

She waved her hand at the door, and it opened to reveal Casen.

He was back to being about 6 feet 3.”  His arms were scarcely 16 inches, and his thighs weren’t much bigger.  His chest was flat, and his stomach wasn’t paunchy but it too was smooth, with no ridges of muscle which had protruded before.  His lats barely extended wider than his rib cage.

He looked...average.

The woman was furious.

“You had ONE JOB!” she yelled.  “Keep your fucking jizz in your balls! But you couldn’t!”

“I’m sorry,” Casen sobbed.

Casen blinked.  The beautiful woman transformed into the witch. Her leather clutch turned into a large burlap sack which plunked to the ground.

“He brought friends!” Casen tried to explain.

“No, you got cocky,” the witch responded to put the responsibility back on Casen. 

She paused.

“But luckily, that’s what I like about you,” she said as she stroked his softened jawline. “And you’re lucky you’re still handsome. And I know you have the potential to be my man.”

“Please, yes, I do. Please. Just...tell me what you need me to do. Do you need more of my seed?  For another lottery?”

“No, I need you to be ready to mate with me before a lottery could take place.” The witch pulled her heavy Book of Spells out of her bag.

“How familiar are you with Multi-Level Marketing organizations?”
Casen gave her a quizzical look. “Uh...some, I guess?”
“Great.” The witch opened to a page with runes and a triangle-shaped diagram. “We’re going to have a Multi-level...Muscle organization.” 

The Witch cackled at her own joke.

[Mamey]

Wow wow wow, i love your history, i am You fans number 1.

[Jtchef2]

Love it

[MochiNii]

Significa que habrá 3era parte?