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goremeridian

m/m A new kind of power source: Part 1

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A New Kind of Power Source
Part 1

 

goremeridian: I want to grow you…wish I could fill your body with such insanely huge, freakish, striated muscle, the fucking Earth would tremble under your mass
MoreMass90: That’s too small, I want to grow BIGGER, little man you can’t handle the size, the sheer grotesque muscle mass, I want to grow to
goremeridian: But then you look down at your godly musculature, stretching as far as the eye can see, titanic muscles pulsing like mountains under your stretched-thin skin, people and cities below you mashed into the canyon striations of your fucking calves – and you know you’re still too puny; you have to grow a million times more
MoreMass90: Fuck a million? I grow that and laugh at you, your planet is so pathetic as I swell up and around it. I could crush it in my pecs – you’d like that, wouldn’t you, you weak little shit? Ground into paste by my pecs? – but before I do I will myself to grow a billion billion billion times bigger, every picosecond
goremeridian: Even though I’m crushed into oblivion by the mass of your heaving pectoral muscle you can still feel my consciousness resonating across the galaxy, urging you on. As you swell out across the universe, you realise you’re still growing too SLOWLY, at this rate you’ll never get big enough
MoreMass90: Big enough? I don’t know what you mean. There’s no such size as big enough, I want my muscles to redefine big, fucking shatter the universe then get even BIGGER, never too big

 

That was the usual sort of casual chat I had with my YM buddy Tim, or MoreMass90, as he was known in muscle growth circles. So it was with some surprise that I switched on my phone after work one day to find a comparatively sober message waiting for me instead, sent an hour earlier:

 

MoreMass90: Hi Simon. Best news EVER: I’ve found a way to actually DO this. But I need your help. I’m cumming with excitement as I type this, fuck. Please come as soon as you get this, I’ll pay you everything in my bank account if you want, I don’t care, fucking hurry dude

 

It was five minutes before an ache in my pupils made me realise I’d been staring at the screen. Or perhaps it would be truer to say through the screen, as though my mind’s eye could see the intensely, agonisingly hot possibilities lurking just beyond the words.

 

Below was his address. Tim lived in Swindon, in the west of England. Luckily, being a Londoner, most parts of the UK were only a train ride away.

 

I was already plotting the route. Did that mean I had already made up my mind to go? I brushed the thought aside, focused on the practical…yet even as I checked for times on thetrainline.com, I found myself wondering exactly what Tim meant by “do this”. Obviously he hadn’t found a way to grow insane muscle mass…or had he?

 

There was a train out from Paddington in an hour. I could make it out to Swindon and come back on the last train home, so I would be able to get a couple of hours of shut-eye in before work the next day.

Before I knew what was happening, my cock was throbbing. What if it worked? What if it was really like we had RPed in our chats? Would I even care about my job the next day? Fuck, would there even be a London left?

 

Or a planet?

 

Without any manual prelude, I came violently into my briefs. The orgasm was so intense it left me disorientated for a good few minutes afterwards.

 

Did I really want this? I gasped for air as the cum puddle in my lap began to cool. This was my ultimate sexual fantasy – to watch a man grow endlessly huge, with an indefatigable hunger for more mass – but it was also freakishly dangerous. I knew once Tim started, he would never want to stop.

 

 

Fuck YES; I wanted it more than anything. As if I’d take his money! I’d it for free a million times over. My own life, my own existence, my own reality were nothing in the face of this.

 

Of course, it could all be a big joke…

 

Suddenly noticing the time, I grabbed my jacket and dashed out of the door, not even having a chance to change my dripping underwear.

 

I prayed that it wasn’t.


*

The skies began to darken as the First Great Western slipped out of Didcot Parkway some 15 minutes before the Swindon stop. I was alone in the carriage, which suited me fine: I was becoming keenly aware that I reeked of ejaculate. While in certain parts of the UK that might be considered acceptable, I knew it would be far from appreciated on a train full of tired commuters.

 

I started to wonder whether people’s cum smelt the same, and whether people would actually be able to identify my particular odour. Perhaps they would simply assume I was unwashed. Different people’s cum certainly tasted different; surely it wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine that they smelt different too.

 

That’s what I hate about train journeys when you forget to bring a book. Your mind goes to odd places.

 

I checked my mobile again but, as I suspected due to the absence of a YM ping, I hadn’t received a reply from Tim since I sent him my quick “On my way” from the platform at Paddington.

 

I used the remaining time to scroll up through some of our past conversations.

 

I had only met Tim around 6 months ago but in that short time I had come to know him well. We YMed nearly every other day. Sometimes this was just one or two lines, a nugget of a macro muscle growth thought if one of us was inspired by something – an advert or film, an overheard conversation in an elevator, a hunky guy observed stepping on worms in Soho Square – and wanted to share it with the other. Though sometimes our chats lasted hours. Many an evening I had planned an early night only to receive the familiar ping of an incoming message…and find myself still hard at it, throwing insane growth ideas back and forth even as the sun came up, lost in a whirl of muscle lust.

 

Tim was frighteningly obsessed with growing huge muscles. The sheer incomparable orgasmic pleasure he got from growing and demanding more growth was matched only by my own as I imagined just how big I truly wanted him to grow. There was no sating either of us…every size, every mass I gave him he threw back at me, scoffing at my imagination, demanding to be swollen bigger and more insanely sexy than I could have dreamed, forcing me to go one greater, and greater still…

 

Those were some of the best nights of my life.


*

By the time I made it to Tim’s front door my lust had cooled off somewhat. I was more curious at this point than anything. I was also more than a little worried that I reeked of cum. I knew Tim had mentioned his own ejaculations, but it was one thing to say how horny you were on YM and quite another to actually waltz up to someone’s front door stinking of sperm.

 

I feared, not for the first time, that this was all a prank.

 

The moment the door opened and saw Tim standing there, desperate look on his face, swollen boner straining against his soaking briefs (his only clothing), I realised I’d had nothing to worry about.

 

“You’re here!” He rushed forward and threw his lithe arms around me. We’d never met like this in real life before so this sudden closeness was a bit of a shock. I also became acutely aware of two things: Tim was just as handsome and sexy as he had appeared in the pictures he had sent me of himself, and his sticky cock was grinding up against my own through the flimsy barrier of our cum-drenched clothes in a not unappealing manner.

 

But we were standing in the middle of his driveway.

 

“Tim! TIM!” I carefully detached myself from his embrace.

 

“Oh!” He stammered, blinking like he was just waking up or something. “I’m just so relieved you’re here, Si…waiting has been AGONISING!” He glanced down at his cock. “I can’t help it – I just have to keep jerking off at the idea of getting huge for real! My cock is insatiable!” He grabbed my hand and half-lead, half-pulled me into his house.

 

My own penis was feeling pretty much the same way at this point. I tried not to think about his words for fear that I’d orgasm again. Instead, I focused on the play of muscles up and down his naked arm and shoulder, across the striations of his half-shadowed back as he yanked me up the driveway. The clenched, steely hillock of his tricep just seemed to be crying out for my tongue to worship it. Tim was smaller than me physically but more muscular, and I was acutely aware how much I was getting off on being manhandled by the little stud. I tried to push my thoughts elsewhere.

 

“Um…isn’t your dad home?” I asked, stepping over the threshold, acknowledging the fact that we were both dripping with ejaculate and Tim was wearing next to nothing.

 

Another victim of the housing crisis, Tim was forced to still live at home with his father despite the fact that he was 24. I ribbed him sometimes about the fact that I’d moved away from home when I was 19, and that if he actually got a proper job (an assistant at his local PC World to my copywriter in an upmarket London advertising agency) he might be able to afford a rung on the property ladder.

 

I was surprised to see the place wasn’t the bachelor pad / slum I’d been expecting. Tim’s parents had divorced a decade previously and his dad had stayed pretty much single since then. I knew from personal experience that men can get a little slob-like if there isn’t a strong woman about to keen them in line. But the place was spotless. The wooden floor in the hallway actually gleamed, as though it had been freshly mopped and polished earlier that day.

 

But I wasn’t here to sightsee. His grip on my arm causing the tendons beneath the tanned skin of his wrist to bunch into tensed titanium, Tim led me through the hallway and seconds later down a flight of basement stairs.

 

I was so careful not to trip down the steep flight of steps – I had never seen a person so eager to get somewhere as Tim – that I nearly missed his reply; “Dad’s on a fishing trip with mates for the rest of the week – we’re all by ourselves.”

 

It was on the “elves” that Tim reached the bottom of the staircase and stopped, releasing me. I nearly fell on top of him, so alacritous our descent had been. In his hurry I didn’t think he’d even remembered to close the front door.

 

“It came to me about a week ago,” he stammered as he tottered over to a table laden with an assortment of wires and machine parts, his rising excitement evident in his voice. Bending over the table, his tight buttocks strained against the material of his briefs.

 

He was one hell of a sexy guy and I was already at full mast. How would I feel if he started growing?

 

I took the last step, my foot clunking against a small cog left discarded on the floor and sending it wheeling off into one of the unlit corners of the basement. Unlike the rest of the house, it looked as though this place hadn’t been cleaned in years.

 

Tim continued, over a rippling shoulder: “I’ve been trying to make my insane muscle growth dreams a reality for years, Si – and the answer was staring me in the face.”

 

He turned. Clutched in his hands was a colander wreathed in wires. Occasionally a spark would crackle across its surface, amid the popping circuits and hissing diodes. It looked like some sort of torture device. These brief flashes of light illuminated the shadowed striations between his flexing sinews as his tight musculature tensed and relaxed in excitement.

 

“You see,” he was saying, “growing mass like that requires energy. Stories talk about people being granted muscle through laser beams or hi-tech nanobites…hell, we’ve even RPed those catalysts a few times ourselves, haven’t we? But where am I going to get the energy to power those? PC World? Hah!” He shot me a toothy smile. His eyes were sparkling with excitement and a kind of madness. “So I had to think about a different source of power. An unlimited source that will grow me as big as I want…as big as you want me to be.” He held the colander out to me.

 

Hesitantly, I reached out and took it. I was expecting an electric shock the moment my fingers came into contact with the metal of the colander, and held it rather tentatively away from me. I realised he was waiting for me to say something. I tried not to think about the fact that our straining boners were pointing directly at one another and that I was hornier than I had ever been before in my life.

 

“Um, so you found it? The source of energy, that is?”

 

He grinned.

 

“Yes. And it’s so simple, I don’t know why no-one has thought of it before.” A spark hopped across my thumb, narrowly missing the flesh, causing the hairs on the back of the digit to bristle. “DESIRE, Simon. Yours and mine. That’s the source of energy.” He gestured for me to put the colander on my head.

 

I clutched at some sense of reason through my libido. “Er, if I put this on, won’t I fry? It doesn’t exactly look safe…”

 

“Nonsense!” He laughed, and grabbed a similar looking device from the table behind him. He popped it on his own cranium. “You might get an electric shock or two, but it’ll be worth it! Just imagine: it’s what we’ve been RPing about for the last half year…it’s what you and I have been dreaming about since our hormones first kicked in…a man like me getting the grotesque muscle mass he craves…”

 

Reluctantly, I slipped the colander over my head. Instantly my ears were filled with a slight buzzing. With that noise echoing in my head, I wasn’t sure how much volume to give my next sentence: “So how does it work?” I pitched, somewhere between a yell and a shout.

 

The wild look in his eyes hadn’t lessened at all. I checked – yup, there was his boner still, if possible, straining even bigger in his cum-drenched briefs beneath his taut abs. Tim was clearly just as caught up in the moment as I was. “Through desire, man can accomplish anything. You think it was mere evolution that made that fish first decide to walk on land? No, it was desire – a driving lust to be better, bigger, stronger, smarter…” Through the tirade in my ears I was only catching every other syllable of what Tim was saying, but it was enough to get a general idea. “You desire more than anyone I’ve ever met to see a man get endlessly bigger and more muscular. Sometimes you can’t even breathe you want it so badly. And I…I desire to grow bigger and more muscular than any of those other guys you’ve RPed with. Nothing in my life is more important to me than growing impossibly huge and muscular. We both want this. Our desire is unlimited. This-” he tapped the colander on his head “will trigger an evolution – my evolution – based on the power of our desires. At a genetic level, I will be altered…I will change, evolving to match our pooled desires.”

 

My dick felt as though it was going to explode. And his looked pretty much the same way.

 

Hell, if it was desire he wanted as an energy source, we clearly had enough between us to power a continent!

 

Tim chuckled at me from across the room.

 

“You ready?”

 

I nodded, the colander rattling on my head, not trusting myself to be able to speak.

“Then here goes…”

 

I didn’t realise, of course, that thinking our pooled desire could power a mere continent was a serious understatement…

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