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Any continuation on this side story and/or the main story? Love it!!

The Incubus only appears when he is needed, or when he's surrounded by creatures overcome with lust. It's when I can feel my grip on his being, his power, his essence, flowing through my body, like vomit coming up my throat that I can't hold back, he pushes my thoughts to the side and comes to the forefront. But when he does, I can't help but enjoy the sequence. It starts with my chest, a burning hot sensation that consumes my lungs like it's hard to breathe. The demon fills my chest with a burning brimstone as my bone structure starts to change, each tendon and sinew stretching as my bones thicken to becoming nearly impossible to break. My six foot four body grows larger, wider, bigger. I usually top out at nine feet, but some sluts truly require a giant so I've grown larger. Any wounds heal up, my skin clears, my hair grows dark and red. My eyes take on an inhuman purple, but anyone who gazes in my eyes even before my transformation will see a burning glow in them. My horns grow from my head, one and a half turns round for a demon of my age. Slowly my eyes gaze down as I grow taller, and then I begin packing on muscle. My pectorals start to fill out, thick striations visible as inches and pounds make my pecs into a shelf. My traps start eating up my neck as it thickens to a barrel shape and width, my shoulders broader and capped with writhing cannon ball delts. As my chest juts out, I can feel my back forming in, giving my torso some monstrous hunchback appearance, my lats stretching out wide, tapering to my thin midriff. My favourite part is watching as my cum gutters form, deeper and deeper valleys forming between at first my four pack then increasing to eight til finally an inhumanly symmetrical eight pack, flanked with feathered obliques, veins leading down to my sexily delineated Adonis belt. Then my limbs get in on the action. I was fit before, but the Incubus wants someone who can subjugate a slut just with one hand alone, so my hands crack and grow longer, thicker, my fingers thick and callused, black talons form where my nails once were, my veins forming a map as they lead to my ham hock sized forearm, densely striated to make any fucktoy bend at the knee just at the sight of them, and up and up my biceps and triceps steal most of the show, gargantuan triple headed monsters, peaks so thick I can feel the head of them when I flex them! My behemoth horseshoe triceps even bigger, feathered and striated so deeply making my arms look like mountains. My legs, my pillars which I stand on explode with mass, freaky shredded calves, diamond shaped and jagged like boulders, up further the redwood thick quads make my body look proportionate, each muscle clearly defined on my inhumanly built body, and all of it designed to support the tools of my trade: Depending on the slut, it's one but sometimes two thick, pulsing, throbbing, monoliths of demonic battering rams, no thinner than thirteen inches around, no shorter than twenty one inches in length, my cocks are so lined with veins, puffed up to the size of a finger, so lined with these and other barbs and ridges that it looks practically jagged in appearance. The cut look of my cocks instills fear in those who get the pleasure to look at it, and the finger length piss slit on the fist sized head gushes dark purple pre-cum, a demonic hallmark, that serves as both potent aphrodisiac and super efficient lubricant to those tight little fucksleeves. Beneath my cum cannons are the tanks that support the arsenal. Two distended and bloated seed makers, the size of melons that almost audibly churn as they produce more and more of my hyper potent seed. I can cum pints, often gallons of thick hot sticky baby batter over my subjects, bulging out their bodies with my demonic wrigglers. These organs fight for space between my muscular thighs and my cock. As if my cocks weren't enough, my tail, thicker at the base, but still the width of my thumb at the tip grows from the base of my back, a long appendage, it can wrap around things, grip things with unholy strength, and the tip can invert, to suck on nipples, necks and all sorts of things. As an Incubus, my powers vary depending on how many whores I've feasted upon, but also cause physical changes to my unholy body. First, as I described before, multiple cocks that become longer and thicker. You may believe that you can't take these breeding rods in your body, but our sordid magic means you can take them all, balls deep, with no permanent harm to your organs. Your body will sense each inch of demon dick distending your body, as though it were actually there, but our cocks can fit to a hellish degree inside your body, fitting inside a secret dimension. The second are tendrils that form from the muscles on my back. Wispy and almost ethereal they can lift and carry creatures, spread them wide, tease them like a tongue or a finger or a cock, and even insert themselves in smaller orifices. One trick, is to fuck the brain of unlucky sluts, forcing them to orgasm on command, handsfree. I love seeing their body betray them, their limbs spasming as they feel orgasm after orgasm, unable to stop the pleasure. The third is our unholy aura. Even when untransformed, any mortal will start feeling hornier as we pass them. When a group of Incubi congregate, it's been known that unexplained orgies have broken out, but when I transform, mortals who even look at me, who can smell me, will feel a wave of arousal hit them. When my powers are focused on a singular creature, I can shape images in their head, capable of making them feel phantom touches, voices, almost as though they were real. Likewise, I can taste their lust from a distance, their forbidden desires and wants and can tailor my fucking of their minds with ease. Lastly, is a mere byproduct of an incubi. Our cum, so fiendish, is a corruptive essence. Once a slut ingests our ball brew, even in our untransformed state, whether orally or elsewhere, it metabolizes into an addiction. Soon they can't get enough, and prolonged exposure can cause madness and eventually with so much corruption, will cause them to become minor hellspawn themselves. Their bodies becoming only living fucktoys for Incubi and Succubi to use for their pleasure. We, however, can only choose once who to pump full of hyperpotent sperm and allow them to foster our hellchild. Some Incubi are permitted more, but for us regular progeny, we are limited in our breeding selection. So where, good mortal, would you like to meet my unholy form? I can promise you, you'll be in good hands.

mark thompson, gay body: a journey through shadow to self, 1997: "The blunt, heavy means of dark eros was the best transportation I had yet found to help me go into my own terror, that awesome, ever-rising fear I had known all my life. By submitting at the feet of a masterful guide, I was, in effect, signing a contract where my ego-driven self could be temporarily annihilated, loosed from its mooring. My surrender to the demands of the scene marked a descent into an inner domain of similar upheaval and disintegration, of other things that immobilize and sting. Being a masochist gave me the permission and the means to face my total being: the self that exists in both worlds." === It all started with a quick exchange. "How many sets you got left?" a deep voice had rumbled, and Eli nearly jumped. He'd been in "the zone", blood pumping through his pecs, mind completely blank as he sat on the bench, staring into the middle distance. He loved how it felt to finally have his thoughts stop for a little while, the strain and focus of lifting becoming meditative. He answered before he made eye contact - "Just two, I'll be done soon," - and looked up at the, uh, largest man he'd ever seen. Maybe large wasn't the right descriptor. Huge? Powerful? Built like a fucking brick house? About six foot four and with the straight-backed stance of a seasoned lifter, biceps pulling against the sleeves of his shirt, chest expansive, lats pushing his arms to his sides, thighs fighting against his shorts. Short hair, thick stubble, friendly yet intense brown eyes, a surprising smile. Holy mother of god, Eli thought, painfully aware that he was both staring and getting hard fully in view of this man. "No rush," he said with a wink, half-turning away. "Let me know if you need a spot." Eli watched him walk over to the free weights, his unbelievable ass and wide, wide back spellbinding. He sat there for a good couple more minutes, willing his dick to calm down, before having the most distracted workout of his life. -- And that, Eli thought, was that. He hadn't seen the guy in weeks; maybe their schedules had just synced up that one time, or maybe he'd been a visitor from out of town looking to get in a quick workout. Maybe he'd imagined the whole thing. The man certainly had been something out of his personal fantasies, and Eli hated to acknowledge that he'd jacked off to the memory of his body more times than he'd like to admit. The more he thought about it the more it enraptured him: he'd been idly considering the shape of the man's arms, bicep full even unflexed, the vein across it prominent, the arm itself so massive it could've been one of Eli's legs, the man himself obviously off-season. Eli allowed himself the luxury of imagining the big man mid-cut, striations playing across every inch of enormous, thick muscle- He had to stop. It felt wrong to fantasize so often about a stranger. He instead threw himself harder into lifting, figuring that if he was going to have these fantasies he may as well manifest them on himself. A month went by; he gained a few pounds. Not nearly enough, but pleasant to see on his previously wiry frame. And then, on a regular Tuesday afternoon, as Eli settled the bar across his back, he saw him. Reflected in the mirror, he seemed impossibly more muscular, more quietly confident than last time. Eli felt his breath catch in his chest; he snapped his eyes back to the image of himself in the mirror, tried to bring his mind back to the task at hand. He could barely finish his set before his eyes were on the big man again. Today seemed to be chest day for him; he grabbed a pair of 75lb dumbbells and sat down to do flies. Eli watched as his pecs began to swell under the tight t-shirt the man wore with each rep; he blew past 15 and finished the set at 25, returning the 75s and replacing them with 90s. How in the good goddamn was Eli supposed to focus. Somehow he did. Maybe spurred on by the man's presence, Eli found himself blowing through the rest of his sets, even adding weight for the last one and improving his personal best. 250lbs squats weren't impressive to him at this point, but it still felt nice to know he could move that much weight. He allowed himself the luxury of looking at the big man now that he'd finished his lift, just out of curiosity. (Or so he told himself.) The man had moved on to incline presses, this time using a pair of the heaviest dumbbells the gym had. He powered them up evenly, smoothly, effort still visible on his face but controlling the weight as if it barely provided any resistance. His pecs bunched and swelled and moved beneath his shirt; his arms were massive, the horseshoe of his tricep popping at the apex of each rep. Eli's mouth went dry as his dick began to stiffen. This was too indulgent. This was too much. This was-- oh no. The big man had made eye contact with Eli through the mirror, and winked. Eli stood there stock-still, like a deer caught in headlights, before turning on his heel and walking over to the machines. He sat at the leg press and set his weight, robotically, adrenaline coursing through his body. He tore through the rest of his workout, legs shaky as he left the gym and made his way down the stairs to the locker room, mind both completely blank and racing faster than he could keep up with. He already knew, in some animal part of his brain, what to expect when he opened the locker room door, but still felt some amount of shock when he was met with it. The big man, of course, was there. Alone. He'd somehow gotten his shirt off of his enormous upper body and was digging through a gym bag, presumably looking for something. He was, of course, next to Eli's locker. He was also, of course, the hottest thing Eli had ever seen. He straightened up, turned, and saw Eli standing there. "Hi," he offered, like an olive branch. "Sorry if I spooked ya up there." "No-not at all," said Eli, trying to not let his eyes follow the swirling coat of hair that ran across the big man's chest, down his stomach, into his shorts. He wasn't quite lean enough at the moment to have super visible abs, but the power of his body was so obvious that it emanated from him like an aura. His chest projected a good three or four inches out from his ribcage, nipples pointed down with the enormous mass of it. His shoulders were so broad it was a wonder the man could make it through doorways. His traps were high and wide. His lats-- Eli had to wrench his eyes back to meet the man's before he lost it entirely. The big man offered a massive, veiny hand. "I'm Jack," he said. Eli reached out to shake it before he thought it through, and was about to give his own name when he felt it. A bolt of energy seemed to flow through him as soon as their hands touched, powerful and intense and deeply pleasurable. So pleasurable, in fact, that Eli came right there, involuntarily, gasping a deep breath as his body tensed and his balls pulled up. He made to pull his hand away, to retreat, immediately red with shame, but Jack curled his fingers more tightly around Eli's hand and pulled him closer. "Did you just," he said, sotto voce into Eli's ear, "cum?" Eli nodded, mute with shame and arousal. Some part of his brain that wasn't currently melted noted that he still hadn't given Jack his name. "You don't need to feel ashamed of it. I know how it feels. What's your name?" Eli took a deep breath to try to compose himself, looked up to meet Jack's eyes. He was, to Eli's suprise, smiling- more eagerly than the average person would in this scenario, for sure. "Eli," he managed to get out. "Why-" "Eli, we've got a lot to talk about. Did you have any plans today?" "No." "Good. Go take a shower and get dressed. I'll meet you in the lobby." What else could he do but obey? --- When he emerged from the locker room, hair damp, body buzzing both with his exertion and with the adrenaline he'd felt since the big man had looked at him, Jack was waiting for him as promised. Somehow he looked even bigger in street clothes, white T-shirt and leather jacket perfectly fit to his enormous frame, jeans making him look like a Tom of Finland drawing. Eli wondered how he didn't get arrested for public indecency when his ass was doing everything it was currently doing. "Great," said Jack as Eli drew closer. "Did you drive here?" "I biked," answered Eli. Jack's presence had the effect of cutting his sentences short, completely dominating him without even trying. "Good. Leave it here for now. I'll walk with you. I don't live far." Jack smiled, reassuringly; Eli had the thought that even if Jack meant to do him harm he'd have just gone along with it anyway. So massive and dominating was he that he could've asked Eli to jump off a building and he'd do it without question. Luckily for him, Jack seemed benevolent. They walked in silence for a few blocks - Jack wasn't lying, his apartment was close by - then climbed the stairs up, paused for a moment while Jack unlocked the door before he welcomed Eli in. The apartment was modestly sized, clean, and spartanly furnished. Just a large couch, a few bookshelves, a foam roller, and some tasteful paintings in the living room: Eli couldn't see the bedroom, but imagined it was similarly bare. Jack had him sit on the couch, then disappeared into the kitchen where a brief sound of blending heralded his return with two protein shakes. He handed one to Eli, then sat opposite him on the ground. "You're probably wondering why I'm doing any of this," he started, and Eli nodded. "Well, I apologize on the outset for any fear I might've caused you. I know I'm intimidating. People make it very clear." Jack smiled, a little bittersweetly. "See, I have a talent. It's a strange one." Eli sipped the protein shake, rapt with attention. "When I shook your hand, earlier- you felt a spark, right?" "Y-yeah. Like electricity." "That doesn't happen for just anybody. And I felt it too- I'm not just guessing. The men in my family, we have, ah, this gift. It got handed down over the generations, and honestly the story of how we got it to begin with is pretty boring. I'll have to tell you some other time. More importantly," Jack reached forward, and offered his hand again, "you're compatible with it." Eli took his hand, unquestioning. "Eli," Jack said, closing his fingers, "do you want to be strong?" "More than anything in the world," Eli said, before his brain could catch up with him. He blushed. "Don't be ashamed of it. Embrace it." Jack smiled. "I saw you lifting and I knew you had a hunger for strength. For power. A lot of people want it, but few actually hunger for it like you or me." Eli nodded, mutely, acutely aware of how hot and enormous Jack's hand was around his own. He could feel that electric feeling again, less powerful this time, more of a subtle radiation that was slowly flooding his body. Jack drew silent for a moment, looking deep into Eli's eyes, watching him process the feeling, notice it, embrace it. "Train with me," he finally said. It wasn't a question. "Yes," said Eli, his mouth dry. "Become what you want to be. Huge, powerful. Inhumanly strong." Eli couldn't even speak. He nodded. "All you have to do," Jack said, quieter, "is submit to me. Absolutely." A shiver ran down Eli's spine. His ultimate temptation. The pinnacle of his most private fantasies, the thing he could never mention to anyone. The idea of this- of giving up his agency, his wants and needs and desires, giving someone else the reins, letting him be steered willingly into something more extreme than he could allow himself to do on his own- had long percolated in the back of his mind, awakening in lockstep with his budding sexuality. He had known it ran much deeper than he'd ever thought, the first time he was dominated scratching the itch but not quite getting deep enough, even as his top had blindfolded and beat and fucked him mercilessly. It wasn't enough. This, what Jack was putting before him, was the realization of every pleasure Eli had ever wanted to know. He took a breath. "I will," he said, and his life completely changed. === (part 2 to come eventually; inspiration is fickle. but it will come! this is, of course, heavily inspired by Enteletchy and similar stories by authors that i can't remember the names of. sorry to those authors: i have memory problems.)

What a jewel! I regret finding it just now. And if course makes me want to read more if that!

Any continuation?

That was a great read. Hope to see more from you.

https://twitter.com/MuscGrowthMorph/status/1686034883808792576

https://twitter.com/MuscGrowthMorph/status/1526301462141214722

@TQuintA Do you know how much fun it is to re-read this story? It's just really cool to dive into this world again, maybe even pick up some things you wouldn't have noticed the first time around. Characters? Deep yet sexy as heck. Plot? Straightforward yet winding with some twists and turns. There's even some great heart-stuff (I am a sucker for a nice description a hunk pushing his big, red bloodpump. Thanks again for these gems.) All in all, I really love this story and it pushes me to better my own writing.

Usually nothing can get between me and a sequel, but that’s just the kind of effect Rose has on folks.

I've been working on it. But a certain handsome demon and a very sexy video store owner keep distracting me...

I can say as a slight spoiler, the fate of both Richard and his Father are undetermined and I might even make it up to my readers to determine who grows the biggest. Daddy, son or a not yet forseen player 3. On a side note- thank you so much for the awesome feed back! I never thought this story would take off quite like this.

Thank you!

Really hoping to see more of this developed. It’s soooooo good.

Love it!

Wow!

Love your writing!

Great writing m!

Incredible!

Part 7 sealed the deal between them. Robbie wants to be like his brotehr and he admires him and loves him and Brett loves to be the ALPHA and he knows he is meant to be just that and he loves Robbie cause it made him realise his potential. Lets hope tehre is more

I remember this story from the old forums, and it was one of the hottest things I've read. I do hope you continue with this in the future.

This is a great start!

Sup all… in Brooklyn Would love to meet up with a bodybuilder or muscle guy who’s into being worshipped. also down for a local worship buddy who’d love to jack off to some contest vids. I’m 5’11 150lbs… slim/fit-ish build and chill. Check out my profile for contact info.

I can come back to this story and it's always peak material!

Need part 2.... immediately! haha woah!