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

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Hello all! I was honored when some of you who read "Give Him Strength" asked for more stories about Casen, John, and their friends. I'm sorry it took a while; the project was the most ambitious M/G project I've taken on.  But it's ready.  I'll be presenting it in this thread in several chapters/installments, roughly daily. 

We have some straight boys in this volume (Y'all wanted more about Casen, and he's STRAIGHT) and they have sex with girls, but I think even those scenes are hot. For those of you who don't care for such things, I hope you'll come back for the VAST majority of this book that's M/M sex.  

With that, please enjoy "The Wrecking Crew's Muscle Lottery." 


Wednesday Night, 6 Months After The Encounter With Amagnathon: 

Casen threw the door open to the yoga studio for posing practice and proceeded to the front of the room toward the mirror, unzipping his XXXL hooded sweatshirt. It was the kind of gym where it was totally cool for the bodybuilders to snap pics mostly-naked anywhere they wanted, but it was, of course,against the rules to do so when there was a class in session, which there was. It was the after-work crowd, mostly young professional women.

The instructor got up from his pose and confronted Casen as the monstrous man got to the front of the room, “Excuse me, sir, we’re using this space, could you take that somewhere…”


Casen had gotten to the front, and had stripped off the hoodie and dropped it to the ground.  He didn’t even look at the yogi, had been rendered speechless looking at the 500-lb behemoth interrupting his meditation instruction. 

Casen continued to strip, down to his Spandex underwear that were choking on his massive thighs, even though his quads had bunched the material up toward his waist so they looked like posing trunks. He hissed out air as he moved from double-bicep to different kinds of most-muscular and stomach vacuum.

“Fuck yeah, this is the best lighting in this place,” he said not-quite-to himself as he got out his phone for some mirror selfies. His nearly 7-foot tall, incredibly wide frame filled most of the picture, but around the edges of the shot were the staring faces of almost everyone in the yoga class, mouths agape. 


The instructor tried to get the class focused again, but it wasn’t a very productive session. Casen kept flexing for 10 minutes until the class was dismissed.  The class picked up their mats (The guys all carefully holding them in front of them as they scurried off to the showers to relieve the erections Casen had given them), a few of the ladies tittering among themselves about how much of a douche bag that guy was being (but of course never taking their eyes off him as they left), but a couple of them stuck around after the rest had left.  

Casen was hitting a lat spread, waiting for some women to talk to him.  He liked confident girls who knew what they wanted; they were always the ones who were the biggest freaks for his size when he got them in bed.  It wasn’t long before a couple women, who somehow were impeccably made-up and without a hair out of place despite being at the gym, approached him.

“Holy shit, my husband could learn a thing or two from you!” one of them said as she grabbed his biceps.

“Definitely down to teach him anything you want him to know,” Casen grinned as he bounced his pecs a couple times.

“Are you done with your workout? We were going to a happy hour.” 


“Just finished.”  Casen and the girls posed for some pics for their Instagrams before exchanging numbers and agreeing to get changed and meet in front of the gym.  


The three met the girls’ friends at the bar, and after a couple drinks, it was decided that all three would go back to the closest apartment.

“Will your husband be there?” Casen asked.
“Yes, but…” the woman started to think of what she could text her man to get him out of the house. “Maybe I can send him to the store for something?”

“No, you said he had things to learn.” Casen responded.  


And so it was that Casen marched into the apartment of Hottest Girl in the Yoga Class, carrying the Second Hottest Girl in the Yoga Class in one arm, looking the Husband in the eye as the trio half-ran to the bedroom. By the time the Husband recovered from his shock and went in to confront them, he found all three naked on the bed, with Casen about to plunge a cock bigger than the Husband’s wrist and longer than he thought possible, into his wife, who looked at her Husband for a brief moment, then turned back to Casen, smiled, and buried her face in his massive cleavage.

An hour later, one girl was orgasming as Casen held her midair in front of his face to service her orally, and the other orgasming as Casen fucked her doggy-style, and Casen was cumming deep in her. When all three were done and they’d recovered their breath, Casen left the girls enraptured in bed and strutted with his massive soft cock swinging between his legs into the kitchen, where the husband was still standing motionless and speechless. 

“Got any protein? I’m starving and haven’t fed these pups since my workout,” Casen asked the husband as he flexed his arms.  Casen looked up from his biceps and back over to the Husband, considered the situation, correcting himself, “well you definitely don’t. But maybe your wife does? She’s clearly the gym rat between you two.”

Casen gave up trying to get the Husband to say anything, and just looked in the fridge.  “Eh, this will do,” he said as he took out the eggs and cracked 6 of them into a glass, chugging them raw.  It seemed to the husband that Casen could barely raise the glass to his mouth before the bursting bicep got in the way. It might have been his imagination, but it looked like it was growing right there, eagerly gobbling up the nutrients Casen was taking in. Casen wiped his mouth after swallowing the last gulp, then said, “But you should go get me a chicken from the deli counter while your wife and I finish up.”

The Husband grabbed his coat and wallet and left.

Casen rinsed his mouth out with Listerine and returned to the bedroom. “Now, where were we?” he asked the women.

“When did you get so big?” the Second Hottest Girl asked.  

“Six months ago, I finished an...intensive training cycle.” Casen was used to lying about how he’d tricked all his gay employees to donating their muscle mass to him. He’d ghosted his job to avoid questions about showing up 250 pounds bigger overnight, and moved to New York.  He just let people’s imaginations run wild about all the drugs he’d been on to get his insane physique. And while most bodybuilders were astounded he didn’t have the grotesque proportions it took most guys to even come close to his size, he’d gotten used to people taking it for granted he wasn’t natural.  There just wasn’t much to talk about, to most people, about how he grew, since they knew they’d never be able to get there.  Sensing that, the woman fell back to the next topics of conversation, the absolute bed-wrecking sex they’d all just had.

“You’re so much fun!” the Wife complimented.  “Usually in a threesome one person’s bored. How many have you had?”

“I usually limit myself to one...per school-night,” Casen said, truthfully, as he started to go down on them again...

It had been a good six months for Casen. 

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Hello all! I was honored when some of you who read "Give Him Strength" asked for more stories about Casen, John, and their friends. I'm sorry it took a while; the project was the most ambitious M/G pr

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 spott

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 tan


Thursday Morning.
It had been a considerably less good 6 months for John Tomich, though not as bad as he’d feared. He’d found work at a new office, and with his health insurance reinstated he was able to see some doctors about his newly diminutive stature. The doctors were always very suspicious why a nearly 30-year old man was just now seeking medical treatment for being 4’6” tall and 100 lbs, but not nearly as suspicious as when he slowly started regaining some height.  John had finally come to trust a doctor enough to tell her the whole story about how he’d lost his body (he left a few of the...details...out), and while she didn’t believe him, she said she hoped the magic had shocked his body enough that he could re-set his body and get some of his height and weight back, and prescribed him some growth hormone to see if he got a boost.

The doc didn’t believe a word of the story of witches and draining of muscles, so it came as that much more of a shock when the “re-set” hypothesis was proved true and the GH seemed to have an effect.  After a few months of treatment, John was almost 5’4” again.  Still short by any standard, and short of where he was before his night with Amagnathon, but no one turned heads anymore, and if he wore tall enough shoes with thick enough heel inserts his friends didn’t notice, or if they did they were polite enough not to say anything.  He’d also spent the hot New Orleans summer miserably bundled up to cover the fact that he’d lost almost all his muscle mass, but the weather was cooling off and a little thickness was even returning to his limbs to the point where he could dress normally again. 

He was still tiny, but he was a human again. If anyone asked, he just explained he’d had a “little health hiccup. It was a bitch but it’s taken care of.”

His other friends--except for Trent, who had fallen off the face of the earth, apparently--were the only ones he could talk to, really, since the incident. He’d made sure they’d all gotten on the same treatment plans so they could get a few inches of height back as well. They were understandably upset, but also understood John had been tricked by the witch. And they knew they’d been as excited about the possibility of teaching Casen a lesson, so they couldn’t really blame John. Exclusively.

He took a sick day from work. It was time to confront that witch. 


He showered and dressed and drove across the city to where he and his friends had been robbed of their bodies.  He half expected the house to be magically vanished, but there it was, creepy as hell even in the light of the morning. 


He took a deep breath, and marched up to the front door, and banged the knocker. The witch opened the door. 

“Johnny!  How you’ve grown!”
“Shut up, bitch.”
“Someone’s mad.”
“You knew what was going to happen. You knew it was a trick.”
“I knew Casen’s plan. I had no idea what Trent would follow through with his end of their bargain.”
“You told me we would summon a warrior, you didn’t say anything about him stealing our muscles. You think you can just lie to desperate people like that?” 

“I didn’t lie--you never asked the details. You stupid boy, you’ve lived such a charmed life you think things like that come free, don’t you?”
John didn’t know what to say to that.
“I bet you want me to wave a magic wand and make you big again? You want me to make you a handsome price, while I’m at it?”
“I know damn well you could fix this if you wanted to.”
“Of course I could.”
“Well then do it.”
“You have to pay, and we need a plan.” 

“Why should I trust you?” 

“You shouldn’t. But if you don’t, how many boys do you think you’re going to snag with that microdick?” 

That was one thing Amagnathon stole that hadn’t grown back much. It was true, John hadn’t hooked up since the event because he was so embarrassed by his penis.  


John considered his options.
“Fine. What do I need to do?”
“We have to decide on a plan.” 

The witch took the old, dusty spell-book off the shelf.

“Let’s see what we have here. There’s a whole bunch of strength spells, we have to find one that’s right for you. Maybe...if you’re charismatic we could build you a strength pyramid? But that requires you to fuck lots of people, and with your prick that might not happen.”
The witch moved on to the next page.
“Ah!  Here!”
The witch pointed to a page of runes and diagrams John could not understand.
“What is it?”
“A strength lottery.” 


“A lottery.  As many men as you want cast lots. One man wins. The more men cast their lot, the more the winner grows.”
“How do you pick the winner?”
The witch slammed the book.
“You take me for a fool?  These are the secrets.”

John sighed. He gulped. “What is the charge?”
“What would you pay to have even the mediocre body you had when I met you?”
“I...I don’t know.”
“Now what would you pay to be beautiful?”
“Like I said, I don’t really have any idea.  I guess...shit I don’t know if I would sell my house.”
“You think everyone who can buy a house deserves to be beautiful?  No, no, I think you know what the price is.”
“I...I understand.”
“Very well. Go and find the other men for your lottery. I think...eight more will suffice. Bring them here tomorrow night.”

Friday Night:
John spent Friday frantically texting all the men he could think of who he trusted. His friends who had been with him during the ordeal with Amagnathon--William, Adam, Max, and Hemanth--were suspicious of what the Witch might be planning, but were willing to be there for John.

Adam wanted to know if he could bring his friend Ryan. John knew Ryan in passing, and followed his Instagram. He was always posting shirtless pics on his Insta story. “Maybe that muscle queen would want a chance for some gainz?” Max texted. A moment later, Ryan was in.

Max’s friends, Greg and Martin, were nerdy like Max. Greg in particular was a bit more timid than the rest, thinking there must be some kind of catch. “He’ll probably be a no-show,” Max had told John. But he did show up that evening, to John’s surprised pleasure.

John needed one more man. He texted every one in his phone book, and no takers. Then it hit him--his nephew was a wrestler at his high school--weren’t they always looking for an edge? John had always been close with his siblings and nieces and nephews, but saying it was a magic spell might not work, though…

So he...bent the truth a bit.
JOHN: Hey Tristan, I’m joining a secret underground gym. Thought you might want to give it a try?  Apparently it’s a free trial. Tonight at 7. You in?
TRISTAN: Sounds great, Uncle J.  Where?

Tristan was first to meet John at the witch’s house.

 “Where’s the gym?” Tristan asked.
“It’s...uh...out back.” John lied.


The rest of the men arrived soon after, and when all were there, with great trepidation, the nine guys approached the house.

John knocked and the witch opened the door immediately and invited them in.

“Not to be ageist, but I don’t think she’s a coach, and I don’t think this is a gym,” Tristan whispered to his uncle.
“No shit,” John responded.  “You’ll have your choice of academic AND athletic scholarships if you keep using that brain!  We’ve got a shot at getting you yoked.”

The witch watched the men come into the living room. She stopped Tristan, and scolded John, “I told you to bring men, I didn’t mean boys. I meant MEN. Biblical men, to borrow a phrase from that load of hogwash.”
Tristan was horrified. “I’m...I’m not a…virgin.”
“Don’t lie to me, boy, I can tell,” the witch said as she looked deep into his eyes and grabbed his jaw. She let out a quiet gasp.
“Oh, my, they start so young now a days,” she said. “You’re lucky, John. I’d have turned him into a toad.”
“Whoa, you’re kidding. About...all of this” Tristan asked.
“Sure, if that makes you feel better,” said the witch as she went over to the bookshelf to get the spell book, which she sat on the dias where a TV would be in a regular living room.

She cracked the book, then went to the kitchen to grab the ingredients. She was gone for several moments, and the guys were texting by the time she got back. “Phones away, millennials,” she scolded the men. “And gather around the cauldron.”

The men formed a tight circle around the large pot, where the coffee table would have been in a normal living room.  The witch squeezed in the middle. 


She snapped her fingers. A gust of wind came from nowhere, and the room went dark, with only a single beam of light emanating from nowhere shining down on the circle of men at the cauldron. Her eyes went white and her head rolled back and she shrieked. When she’d finished, and came to her senses, she addressed the men:
“We shall begin.”
She began an incantation and started pouring the contents of the bottles from the kitchen. Smoke billowed up from the cauldron, and a half-dozen bottles and a few minutes later, with the aroma penetrating all their noses, the men began to cough.
“The smoke is what makes this work.  Breathe it in.”
It wasn’t like they had much choice.

“And now,” the witch continued, “You must bind yourselves to this Strength Lottery.  Cast your lots.”
“Our lots?” John asked.  The others looked at each other quizzically around the circle.
“The Lottery requires each man to deposit an entry fee in the form of his seed.”
“You want us to cum in the pot?” asked Max.

The witch sighed. Modern men were always so vulgar! “Yes, Boys. Cum in the pot.”


They looked at each other. John shrugged and whipped out his little dick and started to jack it. When the rest were reluctant, he said “I know you circuit queens have been in orgies before.”  Then he looked at Tristan. “Sorry, I didn’t…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s just like wrestling camp.”  He closed his eyes and thought of his girlfriend.

That image seemed to get the juices flowing in the gays in the room. Alex took Ryan’s shirt off, and the rest of the guys admired or rubbed his body, and he put on quite a show. The witch was definitely enjoying what she saw of his manhood, too.

One by one, the men finished in the cauldron. John finished last, and when the last drop of his load fell into the pot, the witch waved her hand over it, and it began to bubble, and steam, and froth. Then it started to light up, and suddenly a bright streak of light shot out the top toward the emptiness above the men, then shot every one of them in the chest, in turn.

They each started to feel a warm, tingly feeling all over. They also felt...stronger. Like if somehow you could turn back time and go from the end of a workout to the beginning, before your muscles were exhausted.

When the flashes and the smoke and bubbling died down, the witch spoke to the circle.

“You have all been entered into the Lottery. What you just felt was one pound of muscle being added to each of your bodies. Next, comes the challenge. Any of you who spreads your seed,”--she glared at Max--”For any reason, in a woman, man, or on your own, loses the lottery...and the muscle. You will lose twice as much muscle as you have been granted.  Then, that much muscle will be added to every other participant in the Lottery who hasn’t lost yet.”

“So if I cum,” asked Adam, “I lose 2 pounds, and everyone else gets...2 pounds?”
“Then the next guy who cums loses 4, and we all gain 4, and so on.”

“How long do we lose it for?”
“Forever, of course.”


The guys looked at John, most of them furious they’d been duped, again..
“Don’t get mad at him. You all wanted a shot at a legendary physique. May the best man win.”


There was a long pause. Hemanth broke the silence
“This is gonna SUCK!”
“I’m so sorry, guys.”
“Don’t worry, Uncle John, we did this in wrestling for a month. It’s called No-Nut November. Supposed to make us more aggressive.”
“Does it work?” asked Adam.
“Haven’t lost this year yet!” responded Tristan, and he flexed his shredded bicep to emphasize his point, but also to check himself out to see if he could tell he had an extra pound of muscle. Maybe if he imagined it it looked like every muscle on his body was pumped. But nothing anyone else would notice. He was still stoked to get this shot, though. And he could put up with the deal.

The room was coming back to normal, old-lady furniture was materializing out of the darkness. 

Suddenly, John looked at Greg. Greg had tipoted over to the couch and opened some porn on his phone and was jacking off furiously.
“What are you doing, Greg?”
“Getting it over with. I know I won’t hold out as long as you all. So I’d rather lose 2 pounds than any more!”
Most of the rest of the guys had already started running through the powers of 2 and imagined themselves with 256 pounds of lean muscle added permanently to their frames. None of them except Greg had imagined losing 64 or 128 pounds. They didn’t like the thought of that.
“Fuck it, you’re right.” Greg’s friend Martin said as he joined in a race to minimize the loss.

The rest of the guys circled and watched, fascinated. They’d never seen guys trying to go as quick as possible before.
“Do you ever do THIS in wrestling, Tristan?” asked Hemanth.
Tristan shook his head.

Both the guys had just shot loads in the cauldron. So they were a bit slow to get hard. But after a minute or two, they did. Greg had a head start, but Martin was clearly getting himself worked up quickly. Both the guys were rubbing their nipples, trying to get as much sensation as possible.  Then, Greg reached up and grabbed Ryan’s meaty arm, and asked “Will you flex it for me as it grows?”

Ryan flexed and nodded.  It was enough to send both Greg and Margin over the edge. But Greg was first, the rope of cum from his second load emerging just seconds before Martin’s. Greg shuddered as he lost 2 pounds, a barely perceptible loss concealed well by his baby fat. Martin, in contrast, gasped, as his arm, which had been pumped from jacking off so hard, got cold along with the rest of his body and receded, not much, but enough the rest of the men could tell.

Each of the other men got another warm feeling. Ryan’s bicep swelled up in Greg’s hand. The rest of the guys felt up their own arms to get the feeling of their own growth.  It was mesmerizing.

Watching Martin shrink, then feeling themselves grow, put an end to any of them wanting to get it over with. They were all going for the win, now.

They packed up. It was awkward, as they had  entered on the same team, now they left with an odd camaraderie, but opposed.

They went their separate ways. It was Friday, after all. They had things to do. People to see.  But, not to fuck.

John got in his car, sighed, and thought, “Well, that...could have gone worse.” 


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  • jkmuscle changed the title to The Wrecking Crew's Muscle Lottery (Chapter 2 added Aug 15)

Saturday Night: 

Tristan got to the high school fearing what Coach would tell him. He’d been jogging on the treadmill all day, trying to lose 4 pounds of water weight, but body that was already fine-tuned and bone-dry wouldn’t let him. In the locker room, he striped down to his Calvins and got on a scale. It blinked: 148.7.  More than 3 pounds over his weight class.  


He heard Coach call to him from his office.  He bowed his head and went in.

“Just got a text from Steve, dumbass broke his ankle this afternoon.  You’re wrestling at 152 tonight.”
Tristan scurried out of the office without letting on as to the bullet he’d dodged. Then he looked at the program for the evening.  There was a reason Coach hadn’t been too chatty about the match. His opponent--Ethan--that night at 152 was a Senior who had won State as a Sophomore and Junior. One of the kids who had been wrestling since he could walk.

“Out of the frying pan and into the ass-kicker,” thought Tristan.

Meanwhile, across town, Adam was getting out of the shower.  As he wrapped the towel around his waist, he noticed his bicep wriggling under his arm for the first time since he’d fucked Amagnathon.  The 4 pounds he’d gained in the Lottery so far wasn’t much, but since his muscle mass had been decimated and he was left so petite, it made a difference he could see. 


He balled up the little bicep in the mirror.  It looked like a 5-year old’s arm, but it made a bump.  He was so stoked. 

So stoked, in fact, his dick started rising to attention. 


“What the hell,” Adam thought. “A little edging won’t hurt.”


Tristan and the rest of the team made weight, and then got dressed and started warming up.  The other team was on the other end of the mat, and Tristan could see Ethan.  Ethan looked more like a 25-year old than a high school Senior, and Tristan was shredded lean but Ethan made Tristan look soft. Ethan’s hoodie came off at the end of warm-ups and when he did some arm circles, Tristan definitely saw veins on his lats. Veins on his LATS! And while Ethan might have had a fantastic body, he wasn’t a pretty-boy.  He had an unkempt stubble that barely covered the striations in his jaw muscles, and a buzz-cut rather than styled hair. “Lean and Mean” didn’t begin to cover it; Ethan had been bred and lived his life for one purpose: fucking up guys on the wrestling mat. 

But Tristan wasn’t a slouch, either. As the meet progressed through the lower weight classes, Tristan was going through the times he’d beaten a stronger, or faster, or more experienced guy. “Don’t lock up,” he thought. “I can outlast him,” he thought. 

Walking on to the mat, he saw his uncle John in the stands.  “Can’t fuck up in front of Family,” Tristan thought.

Tristan was as confident as he could be by the time his match was up. The two boys faced off and the ref started off the match.  



Adam had started gently stroking himself as he stood in front of the mirror, flexing his tiny, but finally existing, quads. Then he pushed his arms out in front of him to see his little pecs push up just a little. 

He started leaking pre…

The match was on.  Tristan was doing his best to keep his arm wrapped around Ethan, but the State champ really had him on the run. He avoided a couple attempts by Ethan to shoot, but Ethan was too fast and he had his leg wrapped up pretty quickly.  But Tristan recovered and landed on his front side instead of his back.  The takedown was points for Ethan, but Tristan wasn’t on his back. Tristan struggled to get out of the holds without putting himself in a position to get thrown back on the mat, but Ethan held him to the ground. 

Each of the boys thought he could outlast the other. 

Pretty soon the first round was over.  

The second round started with the coin flip to see who would be in the strong position to start. Tristan won, and wrapped his arm around Ethan’s waist with both on their knees.  Ethan snapped up and whipped around Tristan and the two were hip-to-hip trying to throw each other. But Ethan was too strong. In the blink of an eye, Tristan was flying through the air and had landed on the mat, trying to stay on his stomach with Ethan’s diamond-hard bicep around his neck. It was all Tristan could do this time to keep Ethan from flipping him over and pinning him.

Mercifully, the second round ended.  The referee set up Tristan and Ethan for the third round. This time Ethan started with the advantage, and Tristan didn’t know how he was going to cope.  Tristan got on his knees and Ethan got down behind him. Ethan wrapped his arms around Tristan’s waist and his hand around Ethan’s upper arm.


Adam’s flexing show continued.  He turned around and checked out his ass--he’d always been an ass man--and was thrilled to see what had been completely flat actually had a shape.

“Fuck, what if I win the lottery?” he thought.  He closed his eyes and imagined the cuts of an 8-pack perfectly framed by 3-inch thick lats stretching in a V all the way down to his waist.  He pictured himself at the club, turning down the advances of scores of boys he’d only dreamed of talking to a year ago. 

But he thought about it a second too long, and went one stroke too many. By the time he opened his eyes and realized what had happened, he knew he couldn’t stop what was about to happen.

As had happened dozens of times on as many dates over the years, Adam came before he wanted. 

He felt feverish and weak as the 4 pounds of muscle he’d been admiring dissolved in front of him.  Then 4 more. 

Being weak as he was already, he barely had seen his arms and legs finishing becoming completely shapeless again before he fell on the ground and passed out.




Suddenly, Tristan got very warm, and his veins started to stand out. It would have only been perceptible to the two wrestlers, but Tristan was getting to the 8-pound level of the lottery right there on the mat. 


“Fuck, YES!” Tristan thought. 

Tristan felt powerful, and in the seconds before the third round started, every muscle on his body was growing quickly. His biceps inflated, forcing Ethan’s fingers from completely encompassing Tristan’s arms, to create a tiny gap. Tristan’s lats started to loosen the tight bend in Ethan’s arm.  Tristan felt the power in his thighs and glutes to stand up. 

In the stands, John was getting warm, too.  He looked down at his chest, and saw the top button on his shirt getting stretched. He opened it up before it snapped, and saw his pecs thickening. He felt the fabric constricting his shoulders, and his thighs started pulsing and getting bigger in his jeans, too. When he realized what had happened, he looked at Tristan. He swore Tristan’s ass looked thicker in his singlet.

“Lucky us,” John thought, as the match resumed.

Tristan seemed to have not only bigger, but totally fresh legs. His breath calmed down as he swung Ethan off-balance, then stood up. Ethan grabbed him around the back of the neck, but Tristan turned to face him.  This time Tristan shot Ethan’s leg.  Ethan recovered and the two were side-by-side.  Tristan made one mighty heave, throwing Ethan over his hip, with his back on the mat. Tristan pounced, and before the stars had left Ethan’s eyes, Tristan had forced his shoulders to the mat for one, two, three seconds, and the match was over.  


Tristan had won. He’d pinned Ethan.

The whistle blew and Tristan leapt up from Ethan’s panting body.  He ripped off his headgear and flexed his victorious bicep as the ref lifted the other arm.

Ethan was looking up at Tristan, wondering what had happened.  He didn’t remember Tristan having an 8-pack before the match…

But before he had time to think they had retreated to their corners, Tristan jumping into his Coach’s arms.  Ass-slaps all around as Tristan went back to the locker room to change.

After the meet, Tristan ran into John.
“Looked like a hell of a second wind you got out there,” John winked at Tristan.
“Careful with that shirt, Uncle John. You’re gonna bust out of it!” Tristan replied. Then he found his girl and they decided to head straight to her place. 

They showered, and he complained about being tired and wanted to head straight to bed.  She had other plans.

She went up to Tristan and reached her arms under his shirt and started feeling up his abs.  “What’s wrong, Champ? Don’t you want to play?” she asked as she kissed his neck.

“Fuck, babe, I do.  But trust me, you don’t want to do that.”
“Why not?” she inquired as she got his shirt over his head.
“Trust me.”

She stood back, ready to be offended that her red-blooded boyfriend didn’t want to fuck her to celebrate the biggest win in his athletic career.

“What, is this some stupid no-fap thing?”  Then she got a look at his body. She knew his body, and she immediately saw the changes. 

“You’re bigger.”
“No, I’m just carbed up.” 

“Bullshit. Have you been taking steroids? You’re bigger than yesterday.”
“Of course not. They don’t work that fast anyway.” 

“Whatever.  You look….good.”
“Ha ha,” said Tristan nervously as he flexed a bicep over his head. 
He didn’t realize the effect the extra bulge in his arms and the extra width in his lats would have on her.

Suddenly Tristan was in his second wrestling match of the night, but this one was much more serious than the first.  His girl was half-climbing his body, half pushing him backward onto the bed.  


His pent-up body was ready for sex by the time he hit the mattress, and she’d practically ripped off his underwear and had him in her mouth.

Tristan was in a pickle.  He could easily fight her off, but that would be bad. But there was no way she was taking “no” for an answer.

As she ran her hands up and down his paper-thin torso skin, he made a decision.  He had a week before his next match.  The next school they were up against sucked at wrestling. 

He’d go ahead and have some fun.

Half an hour later, Tristan was on top of his girl and he shot his load into her.

They turned the lights on after they were done, and she was horrified. Tristan was 16 pounds of muscle smaller than he was that morning. He was still athletic-looking, but definitely looked more like he was off-season than at the pinnacle of his sport.

“I told you you didn’t want to do it.” 

“I...don’t understand.” 

“I can get it back, I promise.”
“What happened?”
“You won’t believe me.”

Tristan told her about the witch and the lottery. Her jaw dropped farther and farther until he finally explained how he’d won the match that night. She didn’t believe it, but she had seen what she had seen.

“You...IDIOT!  What if you hadn’t lost the lottery? What if you kept growing? You think you were just going to show up to school 30 or 60 pounds heavier than the day before? What the FUCK?” She got dressed and left, slamming the door.

They didn’t speak for a week, but that just left Tristan more time to hit the weight room to put the muscle back on. He wrestled the next week at 143 pounds, and pinned the guy in the second round. 

The sex after that match was even better.

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  • jkmuscle changed the title to The Wrecking Crew's Muscle Lottery (Chapter 3 added Aug 16)

Wednesday Night

Ryan got the text he’d been waiting for all day: “Hey babe, we landed”

Since he’d gained 16 pounds in the lottery, all his clothes had gone from “Gay-tight” to “almost a parody of gay-tight,” but he put on his tightest tank and shorts that did the most for his recently thickened ass and thighs and hopped in the car to pick up his husband at the airport.  

6 days before, the straps on this tank rode on him perfectly vertically.  Now, his traps forced them out at an angle, so they circled around newly softball-sized deltoids. 

Andy hadn't believed the pictures Ryan was sending him.  He was certain the size his husband appeared to have had added to his arms, legs, and chest were just a result of lighting and angles.  He even said the scale in the gym that showed Ryan was 16 pounds heavier had been mis-calibrated. He didn't even believe the tape measure showing the new inch on his biceps.  But seeing, how the biceps popped up and down as Ryan put the car in gear, was finally believing.  Andy had been gone for a week, and come back to a husband who had hulked the fuck out.  His cock stretched to his waistband almost immediately. When he got in the car, Ryan gave a little flex and Andy’s hand immediately began feeling the muscle. 

“It’s so much harder, too.”
“I know,” Ryan popped his pecs and grinned as he put the pedal closer to the floor to get home faster.

The door to their house had barely closed before Andy had literally ripped off the tiny tank top.
“Whoops,” he feigned being sorry.
“It’s okay, I’m gonna outgrow everything soon.”

A moment later Ryan was carrying his husband into the bedroom and throwing him down on the mattress. Ryan started whipping his clothes off and presented his husband with his iron-hard cock.

“Whoa, is that…” Andy started to ask.
“Yup. It’s bigger, too.”
Ryan pulled Andy’s shorts down, exposing Andy’s cock that had been rocked up since seeing his husband at the airport, but was absolutely painfully throbbing at seeing Ryan’s cock. He wasn’t sure, but he definitely wanted to test.

Andy and Ryan had been dick-twins when they met. But Ryan stuck his cock up to Andy’s, and now his tip poked Andy and Andy’s was about a half inch from Ryan, now.  And Ryan was definitely thicker.

“Let’s see how much better this thing fills you up,” Ryan said with an evil grin.
“Whoa, you said we can’t do that.”
“Never said we can’t fuck.  I said I can’t cum. But I’m gonna fuck the cum out of you like you like it.”  

If Andy wanted to protest, Ryan bending over him and blanketing him with lats inches wider and thicker than they’d thought possible a week ago shut him up, and a minute later Ryan was lubed up and impaling his husband with the biggest cock he’d ever taken.

Ryan and his husband both liked it rough, but this was a whole new level of pain. Aside from his hole needing to stretch to accommodate Ryan’s new length and girth, Ryan was slapping Andy’s cheeks harder than ever before.  After half hour, Andy had to cry uncle.

“Fuck, Ryan, why are you going so hard?”
“Sorry, I’m just going as hard as I can like I know you like it.” Ryan paused. “Oh, but I also hit a 650 deadlift single today.  Hadn’t thought about dialing back all this power on you.”
“You added 150 pounds to a lift? Fuck...No...that’s okay. Give it all to me.”
“FUCK YEAH!”  Ryan growled as he took a look in the changing mirror and grabbed onto the headboard and pulled on it so he could force himself in with all his body’s strength.

The headboard gave way. The boards at the top broke off in his hands, and he quickly snapped it over his head, holding one half in each hand and flexed a double bicep,without pausing the thrusting of his hips by a second.

It was such an immense display of power that Ryan’s husband started to cum. Ryan glanced over in the mirror and saw his thick, powerful frame pile-driving his husband into the mattress. He saw his abs writhing as he moved his hips exactly how he knew he would hit all Andys buttons and drive him to pure ecstasy. And he thought about how much of an absolute god he was to make a guy cum hands-free. 

And it made him cum, too.

And just like that, the lottery was half over. Five men, each a varying degree of smaller than they’d gone in, while 5 more woke up each with 32 more pounds of muscle to deal with. 

Andy took a turn topping Ryan for a the next several weeks (Because he was torn to shreds down there, and he was enjoying being he bigger man for a change.).  But seeing how big he’d become, and how much work he’d have to do to get back just to where he was, inspired him to take the plunge he’d resisted his whole life. He ran out the next day and got a cycle. Not a starter cycle, a big boy, professional stack.

The night after he fucked his husband and broke his bed, he pinned himself for the first time.

“I’ll be back before you fucking know it,” he told himself.  He was sure of it.

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  • jkmuscle changed the title to The Wrecking Crew's Muscle Lottery (Chapter 4 added Aug 17)
  • jkmuscle changed the title to The Wrecking Crew's Muscle Lottery (FINALE added Aug 23)

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