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Body To Match The Package

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While the smoking isn't for me, I say write whatever you damn well want lol. It's not illegal or anything so just write whatever you please and if people don't like it, fuck 'em lol

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I agree, the smoking isn't a deal-breaker of course. It's his story and he can write it however he pleases (though from his response from before, it seems he was going to continue writing it how he wanted, which is great).

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i'll be honest: i don't mind the smoking at all. can't say i was surprised though when i saw the scene; the dude's name is musclesmoker afterall. but yeah as a former smoker myself, and current muscle growth fanatic, i'm indifferent to the smoking and turned on as hell by the excellent, gratifying growth scenes and overall story :D


keep on writing one of my new favorites, man! :P

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Body to match the package, part 5


I finished the cig and stood up, feeling the rush of nicotine flooding my brain and spreading thoroughly through my body, forcing my cock to rise to half mast once again.  I swear I could actually feel the nic mixing with the red liquid pulsing in my veins, and churning deep in my balls, accentuated by my high levels of testosterone that had given me such an impressive package, and combined so nicely with the pills to pack on muscle so quickly.  I focussed again on the task at hand, needing to find some of dad's clothes to accommodate my new build so I could run to the mall and buy a new jock wardrobe.  I opened his closet and chuckled at the selection.  He had a large collection of stretchy, spandex Underarmour and other brands of jock shirts, hung up where most men would hang dress shirts and suit jackets.  I grabbed a red UA shirt, size medium, threw the hanger on the floor and rolled it into a ball, bringing it to my nose and drowning myself in my dad's scent -- sweat, musk, maybe even some cum?  And stale smoke, of course.  Dad apparently didn't wash his gear after every workout.  Nothing had even smelled so delicious. 


I strutted to dad's dresser, my newly muscled legs rolling slightly around each other as my thick, heavy dick hung out in front of me, leading the way.  Even mostly soft, it felt heavier than before, and my lowhanging nuts were definitely heavier and maybe even a bit closer to the floor.  I pulled open the top drawer and rummaged through the compression shorts, tight but stretchy trunks, and musky jockstraps.  I pulled out a pair of bright yellow UA compression shorts, also medium, and bend down to attempt to haul them up over my legs, package, and god-like ass.  I pulled them up over my thick, veiny quads, and the fabric stretched well to accommodate them.  I grabbed my horse cock and cupped my balls, directing them down the left leg of the shorts.  They were tight, but not painful in any way.  Then I reached behind me and started pulling the waistband up over my glutes, first the left, then the right, and managed to stuff my ass all in.  The shorts managed to accept all of my butt meat, but they were stretched extremely tight, taking more fabric away from the pouch in the front, causing my package to be displayed clearly through the thin, yellow fabric.  I readjusted my dick and balls, pulling them down the left leg so they could hang at their full length, my soft ten inches of cock nearly escaping through the leg hole.  


I grabbed a pair of black UA gym shorts from the middle drawer and picked up the shirt, and headed back to my room to watch myself finish getting dressed in my full-length mirror.  I glanced down at the compression shorts briefly in the mirror, admiring how they accommodated my junk so well and more or less put it on full display, but contained it well.  I turned to my right to get a profile view of my bulbous glutes, and immediately felt the precum start to drip again from my cock.  Like I said earlier, my ass was disproportionately big compared to the rest of my muscle, and it looked fucking incredible, straining the yellow spandex as it jutted out from my body.  Back to business.


I pulled the black shorts up over my legs and spandexed package and glutes, and they fit nicely, stretched slightly by my quads and almost obscenely by my ass.  The cotton fabric almost appeared to be stretched like spandex over the globes of meaty, muscled flesh.  Next was the shirt, which I pulled over my torso relatively easily.  It was loose fit, well on most men anyway, and framed my upper body very well.  My pecs protruded through the fabric, pointing downward with my nipples clearly visible.  When I leaned back a bit, you could even make out my hard, solid abs.  


I stepped back from the mirror to get a full view and I was blown away.  Gone were the skinny body, the flat ass, and the overall nerd look.  I was fucking beautiful.  My new face, with my square jaw and piercing eyes, commanded nearly as much attention as my ass and pecs did.  I let my hands wander around my body, cupping my pecs and squeezing my heavy biceps through the stretched fabric, and digging deeply into my Grade A ass.  I definitely passed for fuckable, desirable, even beautiful.  Impressive college jock muscle.


I ran back into dad's room and grabbed a nameless black baseball cap, threw it on backwards for added cockiness, and strutted downstairs to the front door.  I slipped on a pair of flip flops and took one last look at myself in the mirror before heading out the door, admiring how my overall look had gone from skeletal geek to thick, threatening, hunk.  I grabbed my dick through my shorts for good measure, boosting my confidence substantially, and collected some precum that had leaked through the yellow compression shorts, bringing it to my lips and loving the taste.  And then I remembered something.  I needed one more thing to complete my look, and I felt a deep desire spreading from my lips to my lungs.  I grabbed a half-full pack of dad's Lucky Strikes from the kitchen counter and, given the lack of breast pocket, stuck them between the red fabric of my shirt sleeve and my left bicep, and dropped a silver zippo into my shorts pocket.  I could feel that I had an incredible new life ahead of me.  The new Jamie was gonna be the new stud in this town/


I stepped outside and headed off to the mall, on-foot since my hunk of crap Civic was still in the shop.  Luckily it was only a ten minute walk away, and I chose the route directly up Main Street, unconsciously wanting to show off my build and new demeanor to the usual crowds of shoppers, wanderers, and, most importantly, other jock students.  I caught a lot of glances from men and women alike.  They stared as I walked towards them, fixated on my model-like facial features, making deep, piercing eye contact with the hotter guys who seemed transfixed by my confidence and build.  Then, when I passed them, I felt their glances locked on my monstrous butt stretching the shorts thin, each glute flexing and pulsing with each step, powering me forward.  The show was turning me on, and my package was stretching slightly outward despite the best effort of the compression shorts, showing just slightly but obviously through the black gym shorts.  I could feel the precum pooling in my foreskin and overflowing bit by bit, starting to soak the leg of the yellow spandex but thankfully not showing through the black shorts.  In a bold display of masculinity, I pulled the two waistbands away from my crotch and reached down to simultaneously point my dick back downward next to my left quad and scoop up a thick glob of precum, which I brought to my lips and sucked into my mouth.  Two guys witnessed the action, both pretty hot wrestler types who were coming toward me shirtless in boardshorts, likely heading towards the beach.  One made a bit of a disgusted face, but the other stopped in his tracks as he watched me swallow my cum.  I could see his own dick starting to tent his thin shorts, and I winked at him, grinning devilishly, snapping him back to reality as he jogged to catch up to his friend.


And then I felt the now familiar desire in my chest, and automatically reached for my pack of cigs tucked in beside my bicep, pulling one out and bringing it to my lips.  I fished the lighter from my pocket and lit up expertly, like I'd done it ten thousand times, and dragged the sweet smoke into my mouth and deep into my lungs.  I held it there, letting the nicotine and tar absorb, before exhaling an impressive and respectable cloud of smoke that billowed in front of me.  I repeated the process, feeling the nic calm me and pulse through my veins, and churning deep in my heavy nuts.  I crushed the cig on the sidewalk as I approached the front door of the mall, exhaling the final drag as I walked through the doors.


To be continued...

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