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Back in his dorm Marcus tossed and turned and finally woke with a start, unable to truly sleep. His mind was elsewhere, fixated on the hunks from Alpha Alpha Alpha. It was obvious now the frat boys were something special or doing something very illegal. Marcus wracked his mind for any possible natural explanation but kept drawing blanks. How could Richy, a former twig and string bean, bulk up fifty pounds in a couple months? All Marcus' mind could conjure were magic potions, strange ancient ceremonies, ritualistic rites, or some deal-with-the-devil type situation. Whatever he thought up thought didn't matter because what he saw was real. And whatever it was, obviously worked. After trying and failing to go back to sleep, Marcus sat up and checked the clock: 5:50. Damn, only 10 minutes from his alarm. Irritated with himself, Marcus dressed and left in a hurry, snagging a quick bite to eat before dashing off to his 7:00am class, probably too early. He arrived near the lecture hall with a whopping 45 minutes to spare and sat outside the closed doors, flipping through Grindr on his phone. He noticed some of these men were big too, like the frat bros, but not as enormously huge. He flipped through several potential matches and stopped at one of the profiles. Jason. What an intimidating and gorgeous dude. A marble statue come alive, cut and ripped and even had a sculpted V-line down to his thick shaft that could be seen straining the fabric of his high end khakis. Jason wasn't nearly as ripped or humongously hung as the rest of the AAA gang, but it was not far behind, perhaps rivaling the top 1% of those on the app. Marcus quickly swiped right and closed his phone, feeling his erection start to strain his pants. Marcus then suddenly jolted when he heard the unmistakable Grindr notification coming from down the hall. There was a brief and tense silence as Marcus froze with fear until suddenly his own app sputtered out the same distinctive notification. Marcus fumbled with his phone, nearly dropping it, before glancing at his phone and discovering a new message from Jason. "Well hey there, cutie." One more appeared in quick succession as Marcus opened his messages. "I heard that." After a few seconds a new message came over, this time with a picture. The image was a head-cut-off selfie of a hugely muscular man dressed in very nice business casual in what appeared to be a small classroom. Marcus couldn't tell if it was a lecture hall, office, or small meeting room but knew immediately it was a room in this building, somewhere. Another image came over that focused on the huge man's midsection, clearly showing the outline of his muscular abs beneath the thin white shirt and vest the strong guy wore. His thighs in dark brown khakis were obscenely thick, the muscles filling the garment quite snugly and hinting at absolutely powerful quads and hamstrings. Even the crotch of his khaki slacks bulged and strained, looking like an erect pole was trying to break free. Another came in displaying his thick round ass and the legs beneath it which flexed as he turned and posed for the picture, straining the fabric of his pants to the breaking point. A new message interrupted Marcus's leering. "Where are you? I can hear those pings." He almost panicked before replying: "Outside the lecture hall." "I know the one. Go down the hall, and up the stairs to the 3rd floor. Room 314." Marcus jumped up immediately and bolted down the hallway, trying not to look suspicious, but probably failing. Luckily, almost no one else was out this early. Once at the stairs Marcus leaped up them two at a time to the third floor where he scanned for room 314. Almost tripping in a near sprint Marcus turned the last corner and found it tucked away in the corner of the building, away from prying eyes. Marcus' heart skipped a beat as he opened the unlocked door, slipping into a small dark classroom. The room was silent except for the hum of old air conditioning units on the windows and was obviously empty. Marcus closed the door gently, trying his hardest not to alert anyone that might be nearby. He flipped on the lights, set down his bag, and waited. After a few minutes he could hear thumps of heavy foot falls approaching from down the hallway, headed towards him. Thump. Thump. Thump. The door swung open, in walked the man from the images, Jason. The Adonis' shoulders barely made it through the doorframe without knocking into them and he took up an extraordinary amount of space for such a small and secluded classroom. Jason's bulging body was covered with a smart green blazer, dark brown khaki pants and a white button up shirt. His sandy brown hair tied up into a tight bun, his hazel eyes locked with Marcus as a devilish smile curled his perfect lips. "Well now," he purred softly, moving further into the classroom, letting the door close with a soft thump. "Marcus, I take it?" The buff well-dressed bodybuilder was even more hulking than the pictures suggested. Marcus had difficulty gauging exactly how huge Jason really was when only seeing images, but the buff jock's proportions made his suit look as though it was 2 sizes too small for his body and looked almost painted on. This wasn't helped at all by the fact that his bulky arms stretched the expensive suit jacket tightly, causing the button-down shirt to be plastered against his abdomen revealing a teasing glimpse of the well-defined eight pack abs and lines down his midsection. The incredibly muscular brunette easily cut a fine figure in a suit, especially since his arms seemed too large for the garment's sleeves. Marcus watched as the huge man closed the gap between them and instinctually took a half step backward, though there was nowhere to go. "Yeah," the smaller, younger, and undeniably nervous man stammered, averting his eyes for a moment. "Why so timid Marcus?" Jason inquired as he continued his. Marcus took a deep, nervous breath and summoned every ounce of confidence he possessed before looking the god of a man in his eyes again. He took an unsteady gulp. His handsome face relaxed into a kind smile. "That's better. There's no need for bashfulness here. I can tell by tent in your pants that you are just as happy to see me as I am to see you." His sexy voice was calm, relaxed and a tad amused, in no way confrontational. Each word he spoke oozed sexual authority and it was all that Marcus could do not to grab his own burgeoning cock as it attempted to strain out through his jeans. "You seem tense. Uneasy. I think you need a bit of relaxation, no? Here, let me help." The smartly dressed adonis suddenly unbuttoned his expensive green blazer and slipped out his large strong arms from the confines of the well-tailored jacket and draped it across the back of a desk. With the extra space the material on the chest area was pulled even tighter against the jock's broad muscular physique and showed the insane cuts in his arms and round pectorals jutting out from his chest. With a smooth and practiced motion, Jason knelt before Marcus and undid his fly with one hand and unzipped it, revealing his hardening cock. Marcus let out a deep groan as Jason's fingers freed his erection from its fabric prison. A slight grin grew upon the fine man's sensuous lips as his perfectly formed mouth encircled the throbbing erection before him. Marcus felt his legs buckle and threaten to give out under the intense pleasure. The smaller man almost fell over as he sat his ass at the edge of one of the small desks and tried his best not to explode as this mystery hunk sucked him into pure ecstasy. Marcus felt himself enveloped by a soft, yet firm tongue that swept up and down the length of his shaft, his lips creating the perfect seal. Jason kept the pace, going faster and faster as Marcus groaned aloud his excitement and gripped the edges of the wooden surface, squeezing tighter the closer he got to eruption. "Ohhhh! I - I'm gonna..!" Jason didn't miss a beat; instead sucking harder until Marcus burst like a geyser shooting hot streams of hot sticky cream right down Jason's throat. The suave muscular man accepted it greedily and let the orgasm continue until finally slowing down until the ejaculating dick was fully spent and milked of every drop of precious semen. When Marcus began to slow, panting hard and clutching the sides of the desk to remain upright, Jason looked up at him and the sexiest smile Marcus had ever seen grew on the perfect features. The Adonis seemed pleased at what he had caused as he straightened up and seized Marcus's face with his huge hands and pulled their lips together. Jason's tongue dove into the stunned man's mouth, swirling around and giving him his own flavor. When their mouths finally parted Marcus was flushed, dazed, and entirely at a loss. Jason stepped back. "I hope I didn't come on too strong." He smiled, seemingly totally at ease after just fellating Marcus' dick and sharing a full tongued kiss. Marcus struggled for words. "Dude you're something else." was all he could manage to say in the stunned fog his mind was in, not complaining though. His gaze wandering back towards the larger man’s pants and the treasure hidden below, seeing the outline of something enormous just underneath. Jason's muscled and vascular arms came up and swiftly and skillfully began unbuttoning the top 2 buttons of his own tight shirt exposing his powerful and muscular pecs and the beginnings of his hard abdomen. The slim fitting shirt, and especially the now with the partially open collar, perfectly delineated every curve and ridge of his thick, powerful pectoral muscles. Each mound of smooth flesh tapered down perfectly into a trim, 8 pack of rock hard, clearly defined abdominal muscles. "See something you like, don't you?" Jason teased as he chuckled and flexed his biceps slowly to show off his sculpted cut muscle structure, his forearms practically rippling underneath the sleeves of his dress shirt. "It's alright; I tend to have that effect on guys." The masculine beast added. Marcus nodded dumbly, unconsciously beginning to fumble to slip his pants completely off as he tried to kick away his shoes and socks and remove everything while never taking his eyes off Jason's pecs and the glorious cleft the man's big hard chest formed as they flexed under the form fitting material of his shirt and tie. Jason watched his partner shuck his clothes with a playful expression on his face and responded by very slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt the rest of the way until finally undoing the last button and letting the white shirt part open to reveal a stunning masculine landscape of sheer power. His torso was incredible, sculpted like marble. He puffed out his huge chest and tightened his stomach. Instantly his pec swells looked bigger and fuller, his pert nipples pointing downward towards the floor. His hard stomach rippled and swayed with each breath, each hard brick dusted with smooth brown hair that thickened as it lead down to his waist. Jason sensually ran a huge hand down his own torso and underneath his pants, gripping something thick and round just beneath the hem. "What do you think?" the hung, masculine stud asked, his smile broadening. The now naked Marcus replied by scrambling backward onto one of the desks, laying on his back and exposing his tight hole, preparing himself for what kind of monster cock the man possessed. With tantalizing slowness, Jason unbuttoned his fly and his gargantuan rod sprang forth, standing rock hard at close to 12 inches. The rod was covered in pencil tick veins that pulsed with each beat of the huge man’s heart, the tip already beginning to leak precum like a faucet. "I've been hard all morning," Jason remarked casually, unwrapping his man-bun and letting his thick brown locks drape over his wide shoulders. "And now I find a beautiful man ready and willing to be bred? Must be my lucky day." Just the sight of this gargantuan testosterone fueled stud, with his long dark brown hair, model looks, and bulging, statuesque physique that rivaled a Greek god, made Marcus' hole twitch with anticipation. He glanced downward to see the man's tree trunk legs were firmly planted on either side of him and he stood in a wide stance that looked more like someone flexing for the judges rather than preparing to fuck him senseless. Jason finally closed the distance between them and loomed over the smaller man, his monster manhood throbbing with anticipation. Slowly the virile stud leaned over and positioned his already thick pulsating monster over the petite man's awaiting hole, then looked Marcus directly in the eye. "Ready or not.." he teased, pushing the tip of his member into the tight ass. Marcus could feel the head slip easily past the of his anus and he hissed with pain. This bastard was huge! Jason wasted no time in distracting his smaller lover by enveloping his face with a passionate kiss while pressing their chests together, sliding the massive fuck spear into the man below him with agonizing slowness. A surge of unbelievable pressure filled Marcus's senses; he could scarcely think straight. "Oh Fuck. You're so big," he whined softly, trying his best to hide it but unable to keep the lust in his tone at bay. The smaller man shuddered again as more dick slipped past his resistance and probed his prostate, teasing the exposed nerve endings within him, while filling him completely. Marcus could barley contain his joy, his body twitching with pleasure and need. "No need to be shy with my cock is already halfway in you. Listen to your body. Your instincts are far wiser than your brain," the alpha smirked before capturing his lover's mouth with another kiss. As their tongues mingled once again, Marcus felt his hesitancy finally abate and the smaller man unleashed his hands across his fuck stud's ripped body, feeling up every ridge of every cut. His hands clumsily and uncertainly wandered over his partner's swollen biceps and rippling forearms, digging his fingers into the hewn mounds of his flexed shoulders and finally running his fingers down the male's hugely sculpted pectorals. As his eager touch played across the muscular landscapes, Jason pulled his tongue out from between Marcus's teeth, and asked "See, now, isn't this better? Giving into your desires instead of holding them back?" Jason casually flexed his huge muscles everywhere Marcus' was groping as he slowly sank his cock deeper inside him, sending spasms of ecstasy through the young jock's frame. "Fuckin huge..." was about all Marcus could reply in that moment. "Damn right I am." With a touch of dramatic flare and flexibility that belied his size, Jason suddenly pulled his thick arms out of his expensive dress shirt and threw it to the desk behind him, fully exposing his body for Marcus' wide eyes and wandering hands. He began moving, slowly pumping his thick dick into Marcus’ tight hole, giving his partner a view of all the muscle he had on his huge frame. The perfectly layered, gorgeously contoured and totally herculean and musclebound Adonis showed off his body with pride. Each new flex rippled down the beast's chest and torso and finally to his meaty ass and thighs which flexed and pushed out Jason's member deeper into Marcus' spasming hole. Each muscle was clearly defined and rippled with thick hard muscle and beautiful vascular striation. Marcus gasped as each new flex moved Jason's meat deeper inside him, the beautiful stretching sensation was about to make him go insane. The smaller man reached out and grabbed his ass and gaped it wider, begging Jason to speed up his thrusts. Jason obliged, plunging deeper and deeper, until his enormous 12 inches finally hilted inside the younger man. With a wicked smile, Jason began to really fuck. The seductive stud was like an inexhaustible machine; his sculpted pectorals and washboard abdominals rippling and rolling, sweaty, hard and shining as the stud hammered his prostate like no one had before. Marcus dug his fingertips into the mounds of muscle, squeezing and palpating and gripping, feeling the iron-hard sinews beneath, and watching as the incredible Adonis's eyes glittered with passion. Jason then began to purposely flex his upper body muscles to display his strength for his smaller but appreciative partner. Jason unleashed pose after pose, timing each purposeful flex with a particularly powerful thrust. He paraded his body in front of Marcus as he drilled his hole mercilessly. After one particularly hot bicep pose Marcus saw something dark on the stud’s inner bicep close to his pits. Three small letters tattooed with dark ink in fine penmanship spelled out the letters: AAA. "Oh fuck, are you one of them?" The muscular brunette flashed Marcus a wolfish grin. "Did you seriously think I was anything else? How do you think I got this big?" With that the burly alpha slammed home his entire 12-inch meat log once more, splitting Marcus's hole even further and pushing him dangerously close to the edge. Jason's thrusts began gaining speed and ferocity. "I know that look when I see it. You want to be like me, dont you? Big and burly, a walking wet dream, dropping with testosterone?" Jason spoke, and even when in the throes of animalistic mating he never lost his sexy cool demeanor or air of confident machismo, making him seem even sexier in Marcus's mind. "All that is just the start. What really gets you hooked is feeling your dick hardening as it grows extra inches inside some tight piece of ass. Your balls bouncing and flexing as your testosterone roils inside you and creates a huge load of cum just waiting to fill up some young buck. That feeling of pure domination as you unleash your load deep into a guy and know that soon, he’ll be just like you. Each sentence ended in a ferocious thrust, and a wet slap as their balls impacted against Marcus' round perky ass cheeks. Marcus groaned in agreement and screamed in ecstasy. "Yes!! Yes!!! That's exactly what I want." At that response the larger Adonis shifted angles and focused his thrusts directly against Marcus's prostate. Marcus squirmed in his seat with overwhelming pleasure. Jason paused only to grip both the smaller man's knees to position him in the mating press and return his hammer blows to that bundle of nerves, keeping up the relentless assault. Marcus, on his back on a desk, his legs were splayed widely to each side in a complete spread-eagle and completely exposed, could barely breathe as Jason relentlessly fucked him. He began stroking his dick furiously and in seconds went shooting rockets of semen all over himself, which only made Jason harder, slamming even more forcefully into his tight hole. He grunted wildly with effort as he exploded a tremendous ejaculation of pent up sperm. The monstrous masculine hunk's shaft jerked and flexed inside Marcus's hole, firing ropes of white, hot cum into the bottom. Over and over again, Jason unleashed his lust and dominance deep into Marcus's willing and thoroughly bred body, slowly filling Marcus' insides with his potent seed until a small round belly bump protruded from where his abdomen once was. The last of Marcus’ inhibitions left him as he felt the Alpha’s seed permeate throughout him, filling him to the brim. He moamed and wailed as his own cock continued to fire and coat his own protruding stomach. Jason slowed his thrusts and gleefully remarked, "You look so good with my cum stuffed inside you." The Alpha rubbed his large hand over the lump of seed protruding from Marcus's stomach, his husky voice moaning slightly with each caress. The enormous muscular stud then raised both arms above his head with a husky growl, his form slowly swelling with power, his muscles slowly filling with power with each deliberate flex. Each time his muscles pulsed, Marcus felt the huge cock buried inside him pulse with another jet of cum. Even through his sex drunk haze, Marcus knew he was getting larger. His godly body stretched outward as his flexing continued, the cock inside him continuing to unleash the man’s seed deep within him. His pecs ballooned, jutting outward from his hard abs and casting a shadow over Marcus. His hips and thighs got tighter and stronger, causing the big man to readjust his cock inside him as his stance grew wider. Jason held his right arm out and slowly let the power fill his bicep with each flex, reveling in how tight and big the bulging ball of muscle became with each bend of his elbow. Marcus watched, amazed at the unnatural sight of the huge man getting even stronger, and came again hands free as the cock inside his hole stretched him even wider and buried itself deeper even though Jason wasn’t moving. The stud suddenly fixed his eyes on Marcus. "So, how was it?" he whispered, his eyes never leaving his lover. Marcus could only moan loudly in response. Jason smiled wryly, letting his arms relax back down to his sides, ending his growth session, leaving Marcus feeling more filled than ever before. "I have to say, it's been some time since I've fucked a virgin." Jason mused as he withdrew his now ungodly huge now 13 inch cock from Marcus' used hole. "I-Im not a virgin." Marcus croaked, his voice sore after all his wanton lustful moaning and screaming. Jason raised a fuzzy eyebrow and manhandled his own dick in response. "If you've never been fucked by an Alpha Alpha Alpha brother, you've never had real sex. That is your first real fuck." he purred, running a hand up and down his immense beefy pecs. The fucker was enjoying his own body as much as Marcus had been just seconds earlier, flexing his abs and admiring the cut muscles of his arms, shoulders and torso. As Marcus reeled from the pleasure of having this stud's cum held inside him, Jason turned back to where he'd thrown his clothing, his round firm ass flexing along with his quads. The now even sexier alpha pulled his clothes on very slowly, almost intentionally stretching every fiber of cloth and flexing all of his glorious muscle as the material squeezed snugly over each rounded and heavy piece of musculature, bulging with power and presence. The huge guy glanced toward Marcus and smiled slightly, flashing a set of perfect white teeth, as the he strode closer and ran his massive hands down the younger man's slim body before resting on his new cum bulge. "I know you've got questions. Head over to the house later tonight, I'll make sure someone there sets you up. I'm glad you swiped right. Trust me, you won't regret this." *** Part 3. Sorry for the wait, I'm such a procrastinator sometimes it's actually terrible. Please let me know what you think! I've generated some images of the studs depicted in the story so far and might share them here in the future once I get the details the way I want them.

Ever since he had hit puberty, Hank had been an alpha. His dad got him into lifting weights when he was twelve, and his strength and size took off. By the time he was 15, he had a 48” chest and was benching 405. He swaggered around school like he was a god, which is exactly how he felt, and how most of the kids treated him. His swollen ego was also fed by the fact that his dad was a very wealthy pig farmer, who also owned half the county and a ton of real estate in Atlanta. By the time he was 17, the assistant football coach was sick of the hillbilly rich boy attitude, and decided to teach the him a lesson. The coach was a beefy bruiser, who had once been a competitive arm wrestler of some renown. So one day, in front of the whole team, he challenged Hank to a friendly match. Hank had never arm wrestled before, but he just shrugged and said, “Sure, whatever.” Unfortunately for the 35 year old coach, his strength was no match for the jacked up teen. Hank beat him with such ease, they were both surprised. Down went the coach’s right hand, bam, to the table. Delight spread across Hank’s face, and he slowly stripped off his shirt. “Jeezus,” muttered the coach. He’d seen a lot of jocks in his time, but never one that looked chiseled out of Georgia granite. “Again,” said Hank, putting his arm back up. He’d just finished doing 100lb dumbbell curls, and his upper arm bunched up like a melon. The coach couldn’t back down now. He reluctantly put his hand into Hank’s. Then BAM, down went his arm, even harder this time. “Gawd dammm, this is fun!” crowed Hank. “Now the left arm,” he said eagerly, flexing his arm and kissing the peak before softly setting his elbow on the table, a big smirk on his face. They matched up again and went. Hank wrenched the coach’s wrist till it made a crackling sound, then slammed him to the table. He laughed in the coach’s face. “Little pussy,” he sneered, then he flexed his solid 18” farmboy arms. “Little fuckin’ pussy.” The coach went red-faced with humiliation, and slunk away. The next day, as news spread thru the school of Hank’s total domination, the coach submitted his resignation. After that, Hank got into arm wrestling in a big way. At first, he just showed up to every local competition he could find. Many of them were at dive bars, where he was already built better than any of the bouncers. Between his swagger and the musk coming off his imposing physique, it was easy for him to steal their girlfriends, and he loved doing it. Sometimes two or three a night. Every step of the way, he got better and bigger and stronger, secretly aided by the hormones that his pa had been feeding him since he was fourteen. The same ones Pa fed to his most prized hogs, some of which were now over 750lbs of musclebound pork. Hank jerked off to the thought of getting that fucking massed up, and it fueled his ego, his feelings of superiority, until by the time he was 22, he had become the swaggering dickhead that had sat down with Kurt for an interview. Now, at the barn, everything had been turned upside down for Hank. Sam and Kurt used his ass as their own personal cum bucket, trading him off like a toy, and he loved every second of it. He couldn’t believe how much he loved being plowed, especially by Kurt. He ached for Kurt’s huge member to turn his big squared-off boulder of an ass into prime pussy. They had taken him back to his hotel to get his stash of pills and gear, and he moved into the barn, sleeping in the hayloft, just like he used to do back on the pig farm. Kurt had started him on the herbal shakes, and within two weeks, Hank was up to 249lbs of strapping redneck muscle. The three of them lifted together every day, and when Sam and Kurt went to work, Hank lifted some more. He lifted until he was so bloated that he felt like his skin was going to split. All the gear pulsing thru him was making him grow broader and thicker. His bulging forearms pumped almost big as his bi’s. When he looked in the mirror he saw what his opponents were going to be seeing at his next competition. “Aw, yeah,” he thought with a cocky smirk. “Fuckin’ losers are gonna piss themselves.” When he imagined himself snapping arms like twigs, he spewed all over the mirror.

I posted in the Artwork section, but because it doesn't always get seen - and it is a story, I wanted to post here too! Hope you enjoy! Pete "Gymjunkie"

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 2: Winter break crawled by. I had returned home to see my family for three long weeks. Frank was the only thing on my mind from dawn till dusk. In the midst of wholesome family activities, the memory of Frank's unnatural, bulging, hyper-sexualized body kept intruding. I thought of Frank's tren-fueled mentality, his body pushed to the limits of muscular development; of him single-mindedly devouring fuel, injecting roids, and lifting weights all winter break. He was out of control. Obsessed. Animalistic. A freak. When I finally headed back to campus, it was with the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning. The bus from the airport seemed to hit every red light. The minutes crawled by. My heart beat faster with each passing mile. — At last, I got to the door of our room. I heard a faint sound within, almost like a moaning. My heart leaped. Frank was home! Without knocking, I walked right in. The first thing that hit me was the smell — like a Mack truck of deep, intoxicating musk, coupled with the scent of fresh cum. Then I noticed the cum splattered on the walls, on the floor, on the bed. Like someone had just shot massive loads out of a water gun. The room was a war zone, with jock straps, empty protein powder containers and dirty gym clothes scattered everywhere. Then I saw Frank. First and foremost, even in my fantasies, I had forgotten how big he was. The dorm room looked like a doll's house compared to him. There was an Alice in Wonderland quality, like he had taken a potion that made him too large for the small room. Frank was lying on his back on the comparatively tiny bed. He was naked except for a white jock strap. His dark body hair was buzzed short, yet his thick beard was longer than usual. The mattress dipped dramatically under his weight. His cheeks were flushed and his jacked body was flexed. He locked eyes with me -- a serious expression on his red, sweaty face. “James…” he said weakly. With one swollen arm he was stroking his throbbing cock, which had popped out of the jock strap and looked like it was about to explode. Then I realized the other hand was holding a long, black dildo, which he was pumping in and out of his hairy hole. (The dildo was hard to spot at first beneath his bulging quads.) With each pump, his abs convulsed from a 6 pack into an 8 pack. Frank wasn't looking at porn, he was just writhing on the bed -- as if overcome by his own body. He flexed an arm and licked it, rubbed his hand up and down his huge pecs. He locked eyes with me. I laid down my bags, peeled off my winter jacket, and approached him. The dildo he was ramming into his hole must be 8 inches around, I thought. "James...I've been takin' so much tren... Making me so horny bro..." he whispered, gritting his teeth. Sweat was beaded on his red, veiny forehead as he pegged himself. "Couldn't wait for you to get here..." A word about Frank’s voice. In some ways it was as sexy as his body. You have to imagine when they deepen someone’s voice on TV so they can remain anonymous — that’s how scary deep it was. Only it was lightened by a boyish quality I can’t describe, a tiny Texan drawl, and a very slight lisp. What drove me crazy was how it was so gentle and even delicate — yet deeper than any human voice I’d heard. In some ways, it was just like Frank himself, an innocent soul in the body of a superhuman monster. I leaned over Frank and kissed his beautiful mouth. His longer beard felt rough but his lips were soft as ever. I took over the dildo from his hand and continued pumping it in and out, slowly. "AhH! Bro. I missed you," Frank said. I thrust the dildo deeper inside him. "Fuck!" A spurt of precum shot out of his quivering, red dick. "I missed you too, Frank," I said. "Please bro... Fuck me. Fuck me, sir. Please, sir." Frank turned over and bent forward on his knees. His wing-like lats flew out in all their glory. His legs looked like he was half horse. Of course, by now I was completely hard. Must have taken me about ten seconds to pull off my clothes and start pounding the muscle freak. Well…it took a minute more to get to his hole. You see, Frank’s glutes were so thick that I had to fasten my arms around his freaky traps for leverage, so I could push hard enough to even get inside him. "Th-th-thank you, sir," he cried submissively. I went deeper and deeper, pushing as hard as I could against the warm wall of ass muscle. “Love fuckin my muscle boy,” I said, doing my best impression of a straight bro. “Thank you sir, thank you!” His eyes rolled back in his head. “AH! AH! AH!” Frank screamed louder and louder as I pounded him. It must have looked ridiculous, a normal-sized guy pounding a 360-pound freak. I thought of the other people in the dorm who could no doubt hear Frank’s moaning, but I didn’t care. “Fuck yes! Fuck yes!” he yelled in his inimitable, super deep voice. I couldn’t believe how wide and tapered his back looked as it jiggled with each thrust. “Choke me, sir.” I obliged. Or, I tried to. But Frank’s neck was so thick that, no matter how hard I squeezed, I didn’t have much impact. A huge spurt of pre-cum — almost like a load unto itself — spilled out from Frank’s dick. He moaned even louder. Then right before I was going to cum, he pulled my dick out. He grabbed my body, each hand grasping an entire shoulder, and laid me down on the bed like his tiny plaything. Then, looking more huge and horned up than I had ever seen him, he backed up and sat on my dick. From below, I couldn’t see most of his face. His huge, flopping pecs blocked everything except his dark and slightly crazed eyes. As I looked up and saw his pecs jiggling, felt his warm hole sliding up and down my cock, kneaded my hands through his 8-pack, I knew I wouldn’t last long. I started to cum. At the exact same moment, so did Frank — without even touching his cock. His load was so enormous that it drenched my face and most of my chest too. I felt his asshole tighten around my dick in the throes of his orgasm. He moaned: “FUCK YES SIRRRR!” A moment passed. Frank was still straddling me, panting, my very sensitive cock still inside him, my huge load leaking out of his hole. His load coated my entire face. He shuddered. Another mini-orgasm. A last rope of cum shot right into my mouth. Then I started laughing. “What are you laughing at?” “Frank, you really are amazing!” He flashed a killer smile and almost seemed to blush. He looked in my eyes and didn’t say it, but I knew he was thinking (because I was thinking it too): I love you. Frank grimaced and pulled my dick out of his hole, then laid down next to me and shoved my face into his chest crevasse. He knew this was my favorite thing in the world. He pecked affectionate little kisses on my head. God, it felt good to be back in this bear hug, I thought. “You don’t know what it’s been like, James. I’ve been back for ten days. I doubled my tren and now my libido is off the charts. Couldn’t stop thinking of you. I’ve been jerking off six times a day.” “Wait, you’ve been back that long?” I said, surprised. “Yeah, I came back early. My dad was being an asshole. We fought. Said I’m doing too much gear, that he’s worried about me. You believe that?” “Uh…” I wasn’t sure how to reply. Any decent parent would be worried about an 18 year old with 360 pounds of muscle. I must admit, one thing that I found particularly sexy about Frank was that he didn’t give a shit about the risks and stigma of steroids or bodybuilding. It never even seemed to enter his mind. It was like the life of a muscle freak was, for him, the only version of life even worth considering. Nothing was going to stand in his way. Frank continued: “It’s all bullshit. He’s such a hypocrite. Like he wasn’t on gear when he was my age. What he’s really mad about is that he knows I’m not gonna do pro football after college, like he did. He wants me to play in the NFL, just like him.” “You’re not going to?” “Fuck no. You think I care about football? It’s just so I can cover my tuition and keep my dad off my back. Oh, and get unlimited meals at the cafeteria. As soon as I graduate, I’m going to start my pro bodybuilding career.” “Whoa.” “I’m not gonna stop until I’m Mr. Olympia. Can you picture it? Me up on that stage, 6’4”, everyone else looking like a fucking pip-squeak.” “Fuck.” “Imagine what the other pros are gonna think when they see me. Every eye in the room on me. Biggest muscle freak of all time… Walking out there, 100 pounds bigger than the other guys…400 pounds of muscle… Won’t stop till I have 26 inch biceps. Gonna change the sport. Gonna be bigger than anyone ever… biggest ever…Fuck… Just imagine it bro… On stage… Everybody watching… All that freaky muscle… Thousands of people… All gasping when they see me…So big…So fucking huge… Fucking muscle…fuck…” I noticed that Frank’s face was getting flushed again. His beet-red dick had rehardened to 10.5 inches, and a shocking amount of pre-cum was once more gurgling out. Even though he had just came five minutes earlier. “See what I mean?” Frank said. “All this tren has been making me so horny, I can barely leave the room. You’re gonna need to fuck me one or two more times. Then we can go grab lunch. I want to hear how your Christmas was.” “My dick might need a few minutes—“ Frank grabbed my cum-covered face and thrust it into his fragrant pit. Sure enough, the smell was like a Pavlovian trigger. My tired dick immediately hardened. “Good,” said Frank as he saw my erection. “Let’s be quick though. I’m starving!”

The barn turned out to be Sam’s favorite place to train. He could do two hours of squats without having to worry about hogging the squat rack. He kept buying more weights, and used them to keep increasing his previous record. He challenged himself to squat until he puked, and then he could go outside and wretch his guts out without bothering anyone. Afterwards, his abs would spasm from the exertion, and his absurdly pumped legs would barely function. He’d hobble over to the Subzero refrigerator he and Kurt had installed. The only thing inside it was shelves full of antique glass bottles filled with the herbal concoction from Kurt’s ranch. Sam would down a bottle, then go over to the mattresses and crash out for a twenty minute power nap. When he would wake up, his legs were more pumped than ever, but they were no longer sore. He’d feel the veins that snaked down his quads, feeding his muscle. Then he’d grope his own ass and enjoy the hardness of it, the size of it. He swore his butt was gaining an inch of muscle with every leg workout. One day when he woke up from his nap, Kurt was standing over him. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Kurt said. Looking up at the towering, strapping sportscaster from the mattress on the ground was disorienting enough, but as Sam’s eyes focused, he saw the Kurt was holding something by his side. Something big. “I brought you a Valentine’s gift,” said Kurt proudly. He was holding a thick rope. A rope he had used to hogtie Hank with and bring him to the barn. The big arm wrestler had an apple stuck in his mouth and looked like a pig, ready for the spit. Kurt was holding him off the ground like a gym bag. “Oh my god, you didn’t kidnap him, did you?” Sam asked, sitting up. “Well, he didn’t exactly want to come voluntarily. So I used a little…coaxing. I decided to hogtie the little hog farmer.” He started lifting Hank up and down by the rope, using the 240lb meathead for one-arm curls. Hank was trying to talk, but the apple was wedged in deep, so all he could do was make grunting sounds. He did sound like a pig. He kind of looked like a pig too, with his pug nose, beady eyes, and ruddy, rounded face. Kurt walked over to the boxing ring and tossed him in. Kurt climbed in after him, and started untying him. “Come on in, I wanna watch you play with your new toy,” he said to Sam, as he tossed the rope aside and stripped Hank’s clothes off. Hank stood up, buck naked, a big bloated sack of over-roided muscle with a big set of pig nipples capping his broad chest. He took the apple out of his mouth. “I’ll get you for this,” the naked arm wrestler hissed. “Kurt, he’ll go to the police,” said Sam, walking over to the ring. “Nah,” scoffed Kurt. “What’s he gonna tell them, that the big scary man took him away for a boxing match? That’d be great for his reputation as a tough guy arm wrestler. Besides, he dropped out of the competition, claims his arm is injured, so what else does he have to do with his time? He didn’t come all the way from Georgia just to wank in his hotel room.” Sam climbed into the ring and looked Hank over. He had to admit, he was loving the idea of sparring with the cocky bloated juice head. Sam had been honing his skills, sparring with Kurt, and some guys from his gym. He discovered that his reflexes were faster, his punches more accurate, than when he was in college. And his strength, well, he had three times the strength he’d had back then, plus a hundred pounds more muscle to back his punches with. “I tell you what,” he said to Hank, “you do ten minutes of bare knuckle sparring, and I’ll take you back.” Hank looked at the handsome face across from him, and decided he could mess that pretty boy face up real good. All his years of training for arm wrestling, and he had forearms that were bigger than most guys’ biceps. One good punch, and he could smash his nose in. Then he’d go after the big freak that kidnapped him. Hank put up his fists and said, “Ok, deal.” But then Sam pulled off his oversized hoodie and tossed it out of the ring. “Fuck,” said Hank, his eyes widening, as he soaked in the vision of Sam’s 280lbs of shredded, veiny muscularity. Sam made his muscles ripple up and down, the fibers popping out all over, tight as harp strings. “Jeezus fuck,” said Hank, backing up. But before he had a chance to flee, Sam was on him, jabbing him with rapid fire body shots. Sam’s fists landed on the bulky farm muscle until Hank’s thick torso was welted and red. “Hit him back, Champ,” encouraged Kurt, and Hank took a couple of wild swings which Sam dodged like he had Spidey sense. knocking Hank off balancing and down to the mat. Sam helped him up, then let him hit him with some body shots, but Hank’s thick arms were no match for the armor plated torso of the musclebound weatherman. Especially his abs. Repeated blows to Sam’s midsection produced no results for the hapless arm wrestling champ. Then Sam returned a series of punches to Hank’s face, not hard enough to break bone, but hard enough to sting. Hank tried to block the blows with his hands, but Sam just maneuvered around him and kept jabbing, disorienting the younger man. Overwhelmed by the blows, Hank’s hands fell, and Sam kept jabbing, one stinging punch after another, until Hank’s knees gave out and he crumpled to the mat. They had been sparring for less than three minutes. Sam hadn’t even broken a sweat, but it was pouring off Hank and puddling around him. Sam knelt down beside him. “You ok, dude? You don’t look so good.” Hank was trying to remember where he was. Kurt threw a towel into the ring, and Sam started toweling Hank off. Hank’s body odor was rank, but it was turning Sam on. And as Sam rubbed down Hank’s balls, Hank groaned. He felt confused. Normally he would clock a guy for touching him anywhere, let alone his balls, but this was turning him on. Sam ran the towel down Hank’s ass crack, and Hank groaned more. Hank’s butt was furry, broad, and solid. A concrete block of ass. No one had ever touched it before, and it was making him bone. Sam tossed the towel aside and started massaging Hank’s hard glutes with his hands. “This is not my scene,” Hank said unconvincingly. “Ok,” said Sam. “Then how about this?” Sam rammed his index finger into Hank’s hole. “Oh fuck,” said Hank, his sphincter muscle clenching around Sam’s finger. Sam pushed in deeper and started flicking Hank’s prostate. Hank almost came. “Oh my fucking god,” he gasped. “Yeah? You like that? You want me to keep going?” asked Sam. “Oh fuck yeah. Go. Go go go.” “If you like this, I got something that’s gonna make it feel even better,” said Sam, whipping out his dick with his free hand. As he stroked himself hard, Hank looked back and saw the size of it. His sphincter twitched with fear and anticipation. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, but Hank flopped his arms over the bottom rope of the boxing ring, and the formerly cocky alpha presented himself to Sam like a beta baboon. From outside the ring, Kurt had been stroking himself too, as he watched Sam enjoying his Valentine’s present. He grabbed a bottle of posing oil they used for Sam’s contest prep, and tossed it to Sam, who used it to lube his eleven inch cock. Then he proceeded to breed his Valentine, brutalizing Hank’s oversized roided ass for the next hour and a half. When he finished, Sam pulled Hank off the ropes and flipped him onto his back on the mat. He straddled his new toy. Hank’s breath smelled like Red Bull and Skoal, neither of which Sam liked, but he found himself wanting a taste. He leaned down and kissed the battered redneck on the mouth. Hank couldn’t believe he was being kissed by a huge muscle dude and liking it so much. He couldn’t believe he just took a huge dick up his ass and liked it so much he was aching for more. His whole body throbbed in pain, but he liked that, too. He felt up Sam’s huge arms and flaring back muscles as they kissed, and he started getting hard again. All that size and power controlling him like a toy. He didn’t want it to end. And now, the massive hairy beast that kidnapped him was climbing into the ring, and headed over to them, looking like he was ready to own them both. Best Valentine’s Day ever.

Here is a new story from a friend featuring one of my favorite subjects. Big muscle daddies . I'd been talking about a story like this with my friend and they decided to write a story on it. Just to be clear, this is not an incest story. And it follows in a similar genre as my Elongro and Performance Incentive stories. So there may be elements of domination, humiliation, cucking, etc. Again, just to be clear, I did not write this, but was given permission by the author to share it here. Enjoy! +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Chapter 1 - Dr. Tait Holden, MD, Ph.D. sat in his office at 345 Park Avenue Manhattan dictating another report. It had been an exhausting few months. Since he attended the college football championship game in January there had only been a few days that he had been home. Travel all over the nation, living in hotel after hotel after hotel. Dozens upon dozens of days long interviews with clients. Just as many or more consultant meetings and video conferences each week. Having to attend gladhand receptions and dinners with the more hands-on owners when he would much rather have been home. But the end of the yearly ritual was within sight. It was now early May. He was back in his Manhattan loft full time, and, at last, the busiest part of his work year was almost over. That was not to say Tait actually liked New York City. It was just a necessary evil. At least the Spring weather was nice here. He just had too much Nebraska in him to ever feel comfortable in a two bedroom - two bath top floor loft in Chelsea that he bought strictly for its vaulted ceilings or in a suit in the corporate offices. In fact, he often mused about the size of the mansion he could have bought back in Omaha for what he spent on 1200 square feet here. But, as much as he did not like Manhattan, at least he wasn’t always on an airplane living out of a suitcase. He could get some fresh air on the roof of his building after his morning run with a cup of coffee and a quick hot tub boil to relax his quads and calves before work. Cramped, crowded subway commutes were never fun for him, but having his own kitchen each night made sticking to his new workout and gym goals much easier. Those had been KILLER to maintain on the road to be sure. But, he never turned down a challenge. Besides, he thought he had progressed quite nicely on those goals over travel season, all things considered. Just a few more weeks. A few more weeks of reports and these meetings and he would finally be able to close the Chelsea loft for the summer and take some vacation time at his Montana cabin. In the remote wilderness with just himself, the animals, and his private gym, he could really focus on his training undisturbed until fall. Sure there would be some work between the first day of training camp and week one, but that would be the exception, not the rule. Tait was reciting long lines of dry medical jargon into his headset, when an unexpected buzz brought him out of his notes. He pressed pause on the mic control, and the main switchboard operator’s voice sounded. “Doctor Holden. Sean Foley from the PGA is on 7-2788 for you.” Tait smiled to himself as he told the operator to transfer the call to him. Sean was one of the best professional golf coaches on the planet, counting players the likes of Tiger Woods and Justin Rose among his clients. Getting this type of call would be unheard of for most doctors, but for Tait, it was run of the mill. He was, after all, one of the preeminent sports psychiatrists/psychologists in the United States. Tait flipped another switch on his mic to change from the computer dictation program to the phone lines, and a button on his desk phone connected the call. “Sean. It’s been quite a while. How are you man?” “I’m good, Tait. Covid took a toll on business, but what didn’t it take a toll on. How are you?” the man replied. “Trust me, I understand that. As for me - rough part of my season winding down and craving a vacation,” Tait said. “So, what can I do for you? You finally want to cash in that favor I owe you? If so, I know this perfect spot just off the coast of Miami. Private island, warm–” The voice on the phone quipped. “No way. Having you on the hook for a favor is too valuable to give up on just anything.” Then the voice became earnest. “Listen, Tait, this is - rather personal. Well, more personal for you I dare say. I don’t know if it is my business to tell you or if you already know. But you're a friend, and I have to say something. “Something is very wrong, Tait. Have you talked to Kane lately?” Tait’s jovial mood changed instantly. “Not for months, Sean. Between the rush for the draft and - well - you know - Kane being Kane. Thought it best to give him some space and let him call me. What's –” The voice interrupted. “That fits, Tait. But this is different. Fuck, Tait. I'm worried. Let me explain.” *** In Mountain View, California, a twenty-five year old man sat watching the sun rise in a quiet upper middle class neighborhood in which anyone could be happy. Except that the young man wasn’t happy. He hadn’t been happy for months. Not since that day at the gym. Since then, even his fiancé, who at one time made him unconsciously smile just being in her presence, couldn't rouse him from his preoccupied doldrums. It all started after that guy – no, he couldn't face it. It was too – Suddenly, his cellphone rang. The iPhone played a ringtone he had not heard in ages - Ozzy Osborne's “Patient Number 9.” The young man literally groaned as he picked up the phone to see *RESTRICTED NUMBER* as the caller. That ringtone was no accident then… Why now? He thought. Why now? Of all people on earth. With what happened, why him? The universe must hate me…. But the young man knew there was no way to ignore the call or the caller. No way to resist the inevitable. No one ever resisted this caller. Not in all the years he had known him. It was like trying to resist the gravity of a black hole. The only way to avoid it was to go around it and never interact with it. But now, he had to. The young man took a long breath and blew it out. Time to face reality. He clicked on the answer icon. “Hi Dad.” “Hi, Son. How are you?” a deep voice replied from the box. “OK. Just the usual,” the young man lied. “What’s up?” “I'm going to be flying into San Francisco tomorrow night and staying all next week. I would like to speak with you and meet Lacey while I am there. I know it is kind of hard for you to bring the girl home to “meet the parents” so to speak. But while I’m there, I thought it might be a good time. It is way past time I met my future daughter-in-law. “Are you both available for lunch Thursday? Say Hog Island Oyster Company at 12:30? It's a bit of overkill I know, but I want to make a good first impression on my new family. And I really want to see how you are. My treat, of course.” Oh fuck, the young man thought. Not just interacting but flying straight into orbit of the black hole. Then, he calmed a bit. Dad has to meet Lacey sometime though. Maybe it can just be lunch if he is working. I hope so. I can't be exposed to hi- The young man banished the thought he was about to have before he fully had it. It was too creepy to ever contemplate. It was wrong too. But it came again. And again. And again… The young man tried to clear his head. He yelled out so that it could be heard by the deep voiced man. “Lacey, do you have time Thursday afternoon for lunch? Dad is on the phone.” In response, a beautiful young woman came around the hallway from the bedroom into the living room. Her face was beaming at the prospect. Their marriage will become much more real after finally meeting her future father-in-law in person. She immediately agreed. “Lacey said it’s fine Dad, so I guess so.” “Great. I am staying at the Four Seasons for work. So, I will meet you both at the restaurant. Just ask for my reservation. I am really looking forward to it, Son. It has been far too long.” As the phone disconnected, the two men on opposite ends of the country - and from the same but opposite worlds - each breathed a sigh. In New York, Tait hated lying to his son. He could count on one hand how many times he had, and some of those had been misdirections about Christmas presents. He had finished in California weeks ago. But something was wrong, and his son needed him. In California, Kane Holden's stomach tied into a knot. He loved his dad, but his father was more of a force of nature than a man. Tait Holden was… His god of a father was coming. And after the dude at the gym, the universe really did hate him. *** When Kyle and Barbara Holden welcomed their fifth child and last child - their first son after four daughters - into the world in 1978 it was a dream come true. Every man dreams of having a son, and that was especially true of the Nebraska cattle rancher. He was not only from a long line of cattlemen, but also a long line of athletes. He himself had been a full scholarship O-line player at the University of Nebraska. His brother had been on the 1968 Olympic wrestling team. And before he settled onto his own ranch, his father had played for twelve seasons with the Phillies and the Dodgers through the 1950’s. His father’s two World Series rings sat proudly in the office at his ranch to that very day. But, at that moment in Creighton Memorial St. Joseph’s Hospital, no one grasped that the infant they named after his two grandpa’s, Tait Michael Holden, would tower over every accomplishment anyone in their families ever had. From the start, it was obvious that Tait was a special baby. First sign was that he was big for a newborn, being 8 pounds 12 ounces. But that big baby would only become BIGGER. Beyond that, Tait was speaking basic sentences at a year old. Reading basic stories at 3. When most little guys were only interested in Sesame Street or GI Joe cartoons, Tait was voraciously learning anything, showing a curiosity in everything from the classroom to snakes and prairie dogs on the ranch to how the cattle were managed for market. By the age of 12, Tait had raised and sold his first steer after winning first place with him at the State Fair. And then another, and then two, and then four. By the time he had graduated high school, Tait had well over eighty thousand dollars in savings from selling his Fair animals and prize money. Tait would have been an incredible rancher if that had been his destiny - but his academic and farm accomplishments were mirrored by his physicality and sports performance. Like all the Holden men, Tait inherited tremendous physical and athletic potential, and in Nebraska countryside tradition, Kyle started his son playing flag football as soon as he was of age. Tait took to the sport like a duck to water. By the time he was a high school freshman, Tait was already playing varsity as a hulking 6’4” terror of a tight end. At high school graduation, he had won every football award possible for high schoolers in the state of Nebraska and more individual player awards than any athlete in Nebraska state history to that point. Of course, Tait was recruited by practically every single division one athletic program that had even the smallest hope of landing him. The only thing that disappointed Kyle at the end was his son’s final decision of where to commit. Instead of one of the highly visible national programs, Tait chose Stanford. He explained that he wanted to develop his mind as well as his football skills, just in case he were injured and couldn’t play and Stanford could certainly do that. Besides, he reasoned, no matter the team’s record, as long as he played his very best game and learned under legendary Stanford head coach Bill Walsh - the NFL scouts would come to him. And come they did as Tait became a once in a generation position player. When Tait’s body finally stopped growing, he was just a fraction under 6’9” tall, and the strength coaching and nutrition staff transformed him into a 315 pound gridiron titan. And it was by no means a flabby 300 pounds. Tait was obsessive in the gym and with diet, so much so that the layer of fat so many tall footballers had simply wasn't there. Tait’s genetics would have allowed him to become a pro bodybuilder if he was not a football player. His body and strikingly good looks made him into what would one day be called the poster child of “aesthetics.” Tait had a 61 inch chest, 22 inch biceps, with a wasp waist of 32 inches that was the same size as each quad. He looked to literally be carved from rock, more like a giant Frank Zane on the field than a Junior Seau. Of course, any college footballer who was 6’9” and more than 300 pounds was tried out on the line and Tait played magnificently there. But, his true skills were at tight end. His gigantic hands made it next to impossible for a quarterback to miss him when called upon to make a catch. And Tait was extremely good at making up for bad throws so that they still wound up in his mitts. His massive legs could push that body at incredible speed for his size, and compared to defensive secondary players who were 100 pounds lighter than him - trying to tackle him was like trying to stop a freight train. And when Tait was called on to make a block for a running back, those who were unfortunate enough to be targeted felt like they had been plowed over by a Union Pacific locomotive. The nickname stuck - so that when the “Freight Train” made a play, the Stanford student section would start chanting lyrics, singing along to a new song by Metallica that was first sung just a few miles away in San Francisco playing over the stadium speakers - No Leaf Clover - “Then it comes to be that the soothing light / At the end of your tunnel / Is just a freight train coming your way / Here it comes.” Tait’s physical gifts were built right along with his mental skill on the field. Under Walsh and his position coaches, Tait had also become an incredible football mind. He absorbed every lesson Walsh and the coaches taught - from how plays unfold across the whole field, to how his own position operated in various schemes to how plays themselves were drawn, even how the players' workouts augmented play making. Tait employed these skills relentlessly. He might have been a freight train in one play but in the next he could work with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. That versatility made him almost impossible for opposing teams to defend against, Tait was one of the few players on the college level Walsh ever trusted to have the quarterback or center make audibles in an instant based on the defense. What generational greats like Peyton Manning was to Tennessee or Charles Woodson was to Michigan, Tait Holden was at Stanford. After four seasons, when Tait finally declared for the NFL draft, he was a Stanford team captain, a 4-time First Team Academic and on the field All-American. It was rumored that Tait was the inspiration for the creation of the Mackey Trophy to recognize the best tight end in college football since he never won a Heisman. Nevertheless, he was an easy top ten first round pick. Tait spent 8 years in the NFL during the 2000s, amassing 2 Superbowl rings, 7 consecutive selections for the pro bowl, and 4 first team all pro rankings. It was argued in NFL circles that if he had continued playing, he would have been tied with Jason Witten and Tony Gonzalez as the greatest tight ends of the modern NFL. He was definitely heading for the Hall of Fame. But, unexpectedly, at the age of 30, Tait retired from professional sports. The official reason Tait gave was that he wanted to make sure he maintained his health from possible injury or concussion disorder. CTE was becoming more and more popular in the discussion of player health and Tait was a massively hard tackler. But the real reason was very different. Social media barely existed at the end of Tait’s career, and at that time the press barely covered player families unless they were famous beforehand. No one ever spoke of the players' children. So, few outside his team and fewer true friend’s knew about Tait’s wife. Her name was Jess Walker. Tait met her at a party when he was a Stanford freshman. Next to Tait, she was tiny at 5’1” and 105 pounds. But she was perfect for her spot on the gymnastics team. And she had gotten involved in a new sport from a gymnastics coach in Santa Cruz that he called “Crossfit.” For the first time in his life, Tait was thunderstruck by a girl. He was awestruck that such a petite girl could be so fit and strong and do the things she could do. But it was every single conversation with Jess that pulled Tait in. He could just lie on a couch and hold her and talk with her for days on end it seemed. They soon began exclusive dating and became quite the item on campus. But, as sometimes happens, in their junior year, Jess retired from team sports as she was pregnant and soon gave birth to a baby boy - Matthew Kane Holden. Although Tait wasn't religious, he had been raised with salt of the earth, mid-western values. So his first inclination was to marry Jess, stop football, and go to work. But, both Jess and her parents would not hear of it. They refused to allow Tait to give up his career and his future, even with a child on the way. Eventually, Tait agreed, but he and his family would provide everything Jess and Kane needed while waiting for him to go to the NFL. The Holden's lived up to every word - with Jess completing an MBA while waiting. Finally, in Tait's second year in the League, he and Jess married in a tiny ceremony in the prairie church in Nebraska where his family had married for generations. Tait deeply loved Jess and his boy. Though his looks and body made him a virtual pin up model with the expected continual offers of sex when he was on the road with the team - and sometimes right in front of Jess - he was absolutely faithful to them. They seemed to be on the road to long term happiness. But then the phone call came - There had been an accident on the freeway. Jess’s petite body stood no chance in the force of the impact, and she had passed from her injuries. Luckily Kane had been with his grandparents so he was unharmed. But Jess was gone. He was widowed at 30 years old. Tait was devastated. He decided at that moment to do everything he could to provide family and stability for his son, and to not risk his body again. Tait retired from football less than a month later. And rather than live on his well-invested football money - he had been paid over 38 million dollars in his career which had already almost doubled through wise investment - or become a coach, Tait decided to use some of his money to go back to his alma mater - Stanford. Tait was easily accepted into Stanford Medical School, graduating as a single dad with an MD and a PhD in what was then a new and upcoming field called Sports Psychology. After four years of residency at The University of Pennsylvania, Tait became a licensed sports psychiatrist. He was specifically approached and accepted a job offer from the NFL corporate offices in New York. He was commissioned to begin a new mental health services division under the contract that had just been negotiated between the Player’s Union and the League. Tait provided psychological services to any team organization, from mental health seminars and how to develop mind-body connection to interviewing potential draft prospects for teams from a psychological perspective. When Tait made that call to Kane, he was 44 years old. He had gone on to become the manager of behavioral health practitioners for the League and an incredibly respected NFL representative. He showed favoritism to no one, not even his old coaches and teams and teammates. And, as a former player, he was in particularly high demand to supplement mental health services and team doctors. Through it all, Tait saw to any need his parents, sisters, and son had that they could not meet for themselves. Tait was the man his father and grandfather taught him to be - a man who takes care of his own, protects his own, and provides for his own. Physical Giant, Retired NFL All-Pro, MD from Stanford – Tait really was an Alpha male force of nature. Given the man he was, as soon as he got a hint that his son may be in trouble, Tait dropped everything and flew to San Francisco. *** Kane and Lacey walked into Hog Island Oyster Company about ten minutes before the reservation time. When they approached the maitre’d desk and asked for the Holden reservation, he looked at them rather judgmentally, said they did not take reservations, and then asked them for identification. Once the asswipe was satisfied, he gave them one last sneer and invited them to follow. They were not prepared for where they were going. Apparently the restaurant did take reservations - for Tait Holden. They were escorted to an entire section of reserved outdoor patio seating. In front of them stretched one of the most panoramic views of the San Francisco bay and the bay bridge that anyone could take in. Before they took their seats, they went to the edge of the pier to take in the sight. Of course, for all except the maitre’d, there was another view most of the males had taken in as much as they could. Kane didn’t have to look around to sense the eyes locked onto them - well her. Lacey. Kane was accustomed to it by now. It was something similar to the reaction his father received from women, a reaction he knew he would see and hear again soon enough. Part of him rather enjoyed the looks of envy directed at him. And part of him felt insanely self-conscious and inadequate, as those same looks that were awed by Lacey judged him to be totally lacking compared to the woman on his arm. Lacey Masters had it all. She was a 27 year old drop-dead beauty. Daughter of a Bank of America executive. She had competed twice for Ms. California, and the only thing that truly held her back from winning the title was her 5’6” stature. Like his parents, Kane met Lacey at Stanford, where she had been a cheerleader. Of course, she was just as stunning back in college as now, which cowed Kane. But, he also felt more than a little intimidated by her intellect. She was no stereotypical empty airhead. Lacey was a brilliant financial mind. Even if she had not been a banker's daughter and born to the work, her skills at winning in the markets singled her out as being an up and comer in the corporate world. She worked for the investment firm Dodge and Cox as an analyst and personal portfolio manager, already bringing in a very solid quarter million dollar salary before bonuses each year. She also had a fantastic personal portfolio that seemed to grow whenever the stock market bell rang. In every way, she was the proverbial catch. Then, there was the man beside her. In a way that no one could actually put a finger on, Kane Holden just didn't seem to match up. It wasn’t that Kane was bad looking, True, Lacey was dressed in a fantastic dress and heels that made her stand a couple inches taller than Kane, who in bare feet stood exactly the same height as Lacey. True, his father had the chiseled, rugged good looks of romance and cowboy western novel cover models. But, Kane was not bad looking at all. His features were softer. Kinder. He was what most girls in high school and college described over and over as “cute” - at those moments when those same girls were alone comparing the guys around them. While Lacey was closer to a 10, Kane was more of a 7 or 8. But he was not ugly by any stretch. It wasn't that Kane was lacking in any sort of lack of physical fitness. Sure, Kane had gained about ten pounds since college, but that didn’t mean that he had a full out dad bod or anything. Sure, while Lacey had her beauty queen looks and religiously worked out with weights and yoga, Kane was not exactly a slouch. He had inherited the Holden family athletic gene and had been a 5 year wrestler at Stanford. And now, he was pursuing his other sporting gift - golf. Kane had taken up golf in high school after wrestling season and discovered he had quite a knack for it. With great coaching, Kane had capitalized on that talent, having managed to secure a spot on the PGA tour two years prior. No one in their right mind would claim that a Stanford wrestler and a professional golfer was not successful. It was just that Kane had inherited his mother’s height and weight rather than his father’s - as Kane wrestled at the 141 pound weight class. And unlike his father’s gargantuan, ripped muscles when he was in college sports, Kane was again softer - even when he was in wrestling shape. Kane had lithe muscles and a hint of abs under his shirt rather than the etched, deep 8-pack of his father. Kane had succeeded in wrestling and golf as a good tactician, with flexibility, speed, and technique as allies - the skills of a gymnast that he had inherited from his mother. He just didn’t have the overwhelming physical power combined with tactics that his father had - or that Lacey had in her own more feminine way. And while just becoming a Stanford wrestler and pro golfer was successful, he was middle of the road in both. He was good… good enough. But, he was never going to win the way his Dad and wife did. Kane’s personality didn’t quite match Lacey, that was true. They seemed to be from the “opposites that attract” spectrum rather than being “birds of a feather.” Kane was reserved and somewhat introverted compared to Lacey’s extroverted nature. With his father being away so much as a pro footballer and later medical school and residency, child Kane became a pure “mama’s boy.” Thus, he was crushed when his mother passed. Tait had been as well, but he had an adult perspective that the ten year old Kane did not. Tait had engaged the best therapy possible for his son, of course. And the giant man had been nothing but loving and gentle with his son, sensing his quiet, reserved nature. As Kane was treated by many others in his life. To a fair share of women, that vulnerable side was seen as an endearing quality, again something they called “cute.” But, to others, especially certain males in the elite circles of academics and athletics and later business, Kane was a tempting target to use and step on. Except none ever wanted to face the wrath of Tait Holden or later the corporate power of the Masters. So they left Kane alone - most of them. Looks, physique, mind, attitude, personality. It wasn’t any of these single characteristics that made Kane not match. It was all of these things taken together. Kane was the embodiment of “one of these things is not like the others.” He shouldn’t have been. But, he was. And something deep inside him knew it. It was a feeling people could sense radiating from him. Preoccupation. Tentativeness. Withdrawal. Inadequacy. Good enough. That was Kane in a nutshell - good enough. Good enough - but not great. In any other life Kane has success people only dreamed of. But compared to the others he loved, he was totally outshined; but, he was good enough. As he and Lacey waited for water to be brought to their table, Kane was being swallowed by “good enough.” Kane was cute, vulnerable, had a scrappy puppy quality, and Lacey had come to love him for that and more. But – Tait Holden. He knew Tait Holden was quantum leaps beyond any man Lacey had ever met. Though Lacey was certainly accustomed to getting attention and getting hit upon and being a very strong, dominant woman - she had never been exposed to the quality and quantity of Alpha male Tait Holden in person brought to the table. Kane had no idea how she would react. He knew Lacey loved him. Or it certainly felt like it. But, he knew how his Dad affected women. He had seen it all his life. He knew Tait was no predator. He was no so called “Chad.” He never set out to seduce women. In fact, Tait had always been loyal and honorable toward his mother and any other woman as far as he knew. Stealing a woman away from another was just anathema to him. Before or after Jess death, he had never been part of the underground or above ground athlete culture for women and parties and sex. Tait considered that to be beneath him or any proper man. He had taught Kane that. And - Kane knew he carried the pain every widowed person did. He had seen it when his father had visited his mother’s grave. He still loved HER, even now. Kane thought maybe that was why he was still single. And yet… Kane knew what was coming, and it always inspired a feeling - dread. Kane felt awful about that. He felt so conflicted that he both loved and dreaded his father. His father was just… his father. No bravado, no pretend machismo, nothing at all unnatural for him. Tait was nothing but the archetypal Real Man, in every positive way. Tait had done nothing on purpose to inspire such dread in Kane. Yet, it was there, rolling in him - the feeling of being good enough under the glare of greatness. Then, there was another feeling the son had about his father - a wrong feeling Kane thought. The feeling had no name that Kane could attach to it. He buried it as much as he could as he was afraid of it. He avoided his father because of it. But that day at the gym a few months ago - that other man made him truly feel it for the first time. Kane didn’t want to relive those moments, but he did in a flash. And the feelings that burst out hit him, making his thoughts spin - worse than they already were. How would Lacey react? What would she do? What would he do? Why did he feel this way? He didn’t know if these feelings around - well THEM who Tait may as well have been the leader of - was a part of him that was alpha like his father that he was uncomfortable expressing for where it could lead. He didn’t know if it was admiration or desire or hero worship or… A longing to be like his father or not like his father. It just had no name. It was like – Kane was brought back to the real world and away from the whirlwind of his thoughts by an audible gasp and rustle that went through the entire restaurant. Again, Kane instinctively knew what it was. Who it was. Again, he didn't have to look up to know what had happened to generate that response. But, just like gravity around a black hole, Kane was drawn in and turned to see. Kane’s first thought was that his father looked bigger than he remembered, if such a thing were possible. Tait towered at least a full head over… Well, everyone there. That was normal for a man who was 6’9” outside of a basketball team locker room, but it wasn't just his height. Kane could have sworn that his father was physically wider and more thickly muscled than even during his playing days. Maybe it was just his clothes, Kane reasoned. Tait was dressed in all black - black polo shirt, black slacks and leather belt, black leather dress boots. The height of simplicity. Thing was the way these clothes looked. Every stitch Tait wore was custom tailored. His clothes fit so precisely as to highlight every muscle to the hilt. His massive pecs were totally outlined, his quad development shown through his trousers, an impossibly deep v-taper from shoulders down to his waist, even some of the thicker veins were visible through the cloth. Yet, none of the clothing was so tight as to look like Tait had deliberately done it. They simultaneously looked painted on but loose and comfortable in the way only superbly custom-made clothing can. It wasn’t a matter of Tait showing his wealth or station in life or even simply vanity however. Fact was - no one made off-the-shelf clothing for someone like Tait. Simply finding pants long enough was often difficult, much less pants that could house his monstrous quads and calves. Finding size 18 shoes anywhere in any style at all was nearly impossible. Tait had needed custom clothes as long as Kane could remember. Kane heard another sharp intake of breath - this time from directly behind him. He turned to see Lacey with her mouth agape in shock. “Kane,” she barely whispered, “is… is that-” “Ya, that's Dad.” Kane replied. “Told you. Dad is a bit… different.” Lacey had seen plenty of well built, muscular, handsome men in her years. Plenty of very tall men when she cheered for Stanford basketball. Plenty of so-called Alpha males on the field and at parties and in the halls of power. But Tait - she was just floored, stunned, speechless. He was the biggest man she had ever seen. The sheer size of him. He looked like he could make up three ordinary sized men. And, if she were honest - his sheer sexiness was astonishing. His height, his classic chiseled looks, his commanding vibe. All those things she knew in scattered pieces in other men - but in Tait all combined and magnified in one. She had not even spoken to him yet, but everything about him screamed that this was a man among men. Lacey felt her crotch tingle involuntarily. An animal desire from within her. She couldn’t help it. And she wasn't alone. Every woman in the restaurant was having the same reaction. They all felt the… whatever it is that women feel in the presence of a proverbial apex alpha male. And the men - they all felt what they had in their own package either flex with the same desire or shrivel as it was obvious they were totally outclassed. As the young couple watched, Tait looked down upon the maitre'd - who came no taller than his upper pecs - and spoke to him. They could not hear what was said, but they could see the person who had been more than a bit snobbish and prickish to them physically wilt. Kane noted that the same man who asked them for their identification didn’t ask Tait for the same as he fumbled over himself. At that moment, Tait saw Kane and Lacey in the distance. He said something to the maitre’d and then just walked past him as if he no longer existed. Tait walked through the lunch time crowd like Morpheus in The Matrix. Totally direct and purposeful, yet strolling through the sea of people as if they didn’t exist. All while the maitre’d looked as if he were physically drained - perhaps like Moses after seeing the Burning Bush. As soon as Tait came through the patio doors into the open air, he looked to Kane and said heartfully, “How are you, Son?” Father and son began to walk toward each other. Lacey stood, frozen, watching. Her shock and nervousness only grew as the great man approached. It did not escape her that Tait seemed to cover the same distance that took Kane ten steps in five. The giant reached out and took his flesh and blood by the hand in a massive enveloping handshake and then pulled him into a hug. Lacey thought she could hear Kane reply, but it was lost somewhere in Tait's lower chest muscles - where Kane's head landed upon the man who had 15 inches of height on him. But - that didn't matter to her… yet. That voice - Tait’s deep, smooth, confident voice. Tait sounded like a combination of the bass of Vin Diesel and the smoothness of Lawrence Fishburne. So strong and confident, yet so soothing. That voice could crush an ego or inspire armies or wrap you in curtains of safety and security, depending on how he used it. She understood in a moment why Tait was so effective as a psychiatrist or as a team leader before that. That voice attached to that man could make you want to tell every secret you had and love doing it. She felt herself become even more aroused hearing him. She started to understand what Kane had meant about gravity. She felt pulled toward him, like a moth to a flame. The perfect voice, the perfect height, the perfect muscle, the perfect attitude - she just couldn't help it. He was so much more than Kane’s description could ever hope to convey. She noticed something else in that moment of embrace. Kane. Though they seemed so different - and they were very different - she could see so much of the son in his father and so much of the father in the son. Kane’s voice was baritone rather than bass, not quite as silky smooth and confident. But she could hear so many similarities. Kane had a quiet strength about his voice, much as the magnified version in Tait. There had been more than a few nights when she had become lost in Kane’s voice. Kane’s face and physical features were so different from Tait's - yet there was no question they were father and son. Kane was what Tait would have been if he were more of the non-descript power behind the throne type. A very different type of masculine power; yet it was there. So different - yet so similar. That similarity to Tait made Lacey desire Kane more too. She watched as Tait released Kane and together they approached the table where she was. Kane - she felt ashamed for her reaction to Tait. She loved Kane. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with Kane. Why was she so pulled into wanting Tait to f– She crushed that thought. “And you must be Lacey. It is cliche but Kane has told me so much about you,” she heard as her vision became blocked by a man mountain. Lacey looked up and UP. She felt like she was a little girl again standing in front of her father as Tait held out a wide hand. She extended her own hand and Tait took it. “Dad, this is my fiancé Lacey Masters. Lacey, please meet my Dad, Tait Holden.” Kane introduced. Tait’s voice seemed to wrap the young woman in velvet smoothness. “An absolute pleasure to finally meet the girl my son was lucky enough to catch… or was it entrap?” Tait cracked a mischievous smile with just the hint of a complement toward her and the good natured rib at his son. Kane's cheeks flashed an inordinate amount of red in embarrassment. Lacey giggled. Fuck that smile is like liquid sex. What is it like to kiss–, she thought. “He didn't trap me.” She replied then added almost as an afterthought. “Well… maybe he did, but it's a trap I enjoyed falling into. The pleasure is mine, Doctor Holden.” Tait turned to his son for a moment. “Kane, you didn’t tell me you had found such a keeper of a girl. Better hold tight.” He flashed a smile again before he turned again to Lacy. “Tait, please. You’re not a client in my office, and I still have enough of the ranch in me to hate formality from my family - or close enough to family. Of course, there is one exception I make to formal custom - one I always liked with a beautiful young woman.” Tait’s voice dropped slightly, becoming almost intimate. “‘Enchanté, Mademoiselle.’” In a practiced motion mastered through thousands of repetitions, Tait raised her arm while simultaneously bowing himself and kissed her hand. Lacey shivered. Her panties very nearly became wet in desire. Tait was so big he could totally close her from the outside world if he embraced her. She could tell from the thick, weight lifter built muscles of his hand that he was strong enough to lift her to the ceiling with one arm with no effort at all. She imagined Tait in the gym putting dumbbells more than her body weight easily over his head. Her eyes wandered up his thick corded forearms that radiating raw, crushing power, and, Jesus Christ, that bulging biceps even partly under the sleeve. What must that feel like to… “That’s my Dad, just a smooth-talking, muscle-bound Cassinova.” Kane quipped. Leave it to Kane to ruin the moment, Lacey thought. She almost snapped at him for his rudeness, but was stopped by a good natured chuckle from Tait. Lacey could not tell if the laugh was a “touché” recognition of his son’s verbal jab - or an Alpha male’s amusement at a lesser being trying to stand up to someone far beyond him. Maybe it was both she thought. “Maybe so, Son. I admit to being a softy sometimes under it all. I suppose Kane learned how to trap good women from me.” Tait pointed his free hand toward Lacey’s seat. “May I?” Lacey smiled even more as she gave her ascent. Tait lowered her hand and held it as he escorted her back to her seat. As he led her, she tried to hide the fact that she was shaking at his touch. She understood intellectually that Tait was just showing proper manners. But her body didn’t want to believe it. And… she failed. Tait felt her response and suppressed a knowing smile. As Lacey thought, he wasn’t purposefully trying to do anything. It was just that he had seen this so often that he couldn't help but feel a bit of amusement. Years ago, Jess’s mother told him that common courtesy from him could be misinterpreted by many women because of the masculinity and power he conveyed. So, Tait was very cognizant of where to draw lines with most women. She was family so he would allow more than with most women. But the lines were still there with a woman so much his junior - no matter how much closer to her age his looks made him. Still, very first impressions of Lacey Masters - he liked this girl. Kane - he noticed her response too. Like his father, he had seen this so many times over the years. It was what he knew would happen and was afraid would grow. He hoped this would end when Lacey became more familiar with his father’s presence. The way his mother or grandma or aunts were around his father. They would just laugh at it when they felt it and give their men a smooch. Still he felt a jab of familiar jealousy - no woman had ever responded to a simple display of manners from him like that, much less his own fiancé . Maybe she had never responded like that to anything he had ever done. No matter how intimate. Even in… Kane’s feelings of inadequacy grew even more. And with it his internal conflict expanded. After Lacey was seated, Tait moved to the side and took the only other available seat at the table… Next to the young woman. Kane mentally kicked himself. He had unconsciously upped the level of temptation. He had chosen to sit opposite of Lacey facing her across the table out of habit - the way they always sat when going out. Tait hadn't thought anything about it. He simply slid into where he thought he should sit - within inches of Lacey. It was innocent. Anyone would sit in the only available chair… but now Kane felt even more uncomfortable. Seeing them like this, side by side - it was oddly striking. They sort of matched, like his mother. They looked so–. Awkward silence again took over, but after a few moments, Tait broke the ice. Again, he directed to Lacey. “I suppose this is when we begin the awkward small talk you do when you're meeting the in-laws? I remember mine. Maybe I should just tell some embarrassing childhood stories on Kane like any parent does when meeting their kids’ sweetheart.” Tait flashed his million dollar smile signaling the humor, which made Kane blush again - hoping against hope his Dad wasn't going to actually do that. Tait and Lacey couldn't help but laugh at the sight. It was indeed the perfect thing to break the ice. But her laugh was almost like a schoolgirl enamored of the hot new guy. Of course, she was nervous meeting Tait but - that laugh. It was more than nerves. Without realizing - in a half flirtatious way, her hand moved to Tait's forearm…This time, she was definitely wet. Thank fuck what she was wearing would never let on to her condition. But she felt it. Her biology betrayed her - and what she felt. Crazy, hard muscle. Veins. What about other veins lower down. And his skin - it was an odd juxtaposition of thick and thin, hard and supple - like a weightlifter. Like a strong man. A bodybuilder. Her fingers lingered as she felt movement - the small and large ripples of individual cords of muscle, each of which had to be bigger than Kane's whole forearm. She kept feeling as she caught the scent of Tait's heady musk, a clean but utterly masculine scent - sandalwood and leather and cigar and pheromones and the primitive primate part of her brain responded. Involuntarily, she drew in a breath. That breath - damnit, had she been caught? Lacey’s cheeks flushed and she dropped her hand, though she didn't want to. She was feeling up to her beau’s father. That was awful, but… I have to be good, she thought. She truly believed she was being totally proper now not feeling Tait’s arm - it never reached her consciousness that her hand had just dropped only to come to rest on Tait’s massive quad. The entire previous exchange felt like minutes, but in reality it was just a second or two. Lacey continued, “I hope it's not too awkward.” Her answer was both a proper answer and a Freudian slip. “I make no promises that I won't mess up. But, I'll try my best,” Tait said to both of them, feigning innocence. Tait knew her hand was on his quad… but drew no attention to it. Kane jumped in. “Speaking of awkward - you're looking… BIG, Dad.” Now it was Tait's turn to flash the slightest of emotion - Pride. There was always something special when your kid noticed that you were reaching your goals. “I thought you'd quit working out as much with the Draft interview schedule keeping you so busy.” “I'm glad you noticed, Son. Been working hard the last while even with the schedule. Some OK results for not enough sleep and depending on the team catering crews to give me healthy food, if not exactly geared for me. But, I do want to get bigger.” “Bigger?!?” both twenty-somethings said incredulously in unison. Tait felt Lacey’s hand begin to squeeze his quad. Then move to squeeze another spot. It was a bit of a thrill to feel that a grown woman’s hand - petite though she was - could not even span the single femoral head of his right quad. Just one of the four main groups - wider than the length of her hand from her fingers to wrist. She was looking for weakness. She would not find it. Lacey - she was indeed feeling his leg, trying to figure out what bigger meant. She decided there was no way. How could there be - he was so big already. So totally hard. He had to be immensely strong. Everywhere she felt - nothing but rock hard muscle. It couldn’t get any bigger. Tait could not help but to feed on their stunned energy, particularly Lacey. He found a strange sort of enjoyment at the prospect of showing off for his family and pushing them into disbelief. He decided to go with the flow. He opened a light version of a jock smirk to their reaction. “ “But you're already so BIG?!?” Lacey finally said. Tait held out his right forearm and biceps and began to tense and relax them in view of the kids. It was not a full out flex at all - more of just moving his fingers and wrist making the muscles twist and dance. As he did so, the cords of thick muscle and veins exploded and the promise of a truly monumental biceps mountain hinted it was alive under the black polo sleeve. “I'm certainly trying. It was my New Year’s resolution, so to speak. Maybe it's just an old man's vanity trying to keep up with all these NFL prospects I work with who are even younger than you two. It’s fun to still be able to out work and out lift them, I have to admit. “I turn 45 in a few months, and it is more than fun to see them - please do not take offense Kane, Lacey - but it is more than fun to see them have the same reaction you two are having right now when I get a good pump. I am going for conditioning too, not just size. You know someone my size can put on a lot of muscle AND fat just by existing and eating enough. But I want to carve up the size I am putting on. Be lean and cut as well as bigger. Actually, I am aiming to be better than I ever was when I did the pin up calendars when I played in the league. One last time and hold onto it as long as time and age will let me.” Lacey’s hand groped even more at hearing that. If you looked closely, her eyes dilated. Her cheeks flushed. Her breathing had become a bit faster. More shallow. “Dr. Hold – Tait,” Lacey corrected. “Almost 45?!? You don't look a day over 30.” Kane groaned inwardly. His anger had been growing the entire exchange. He was going to let it all go as a natural reaction that Lacey couldn’t help. His father’s gravity. That it would go away. But that level of blatant hitting on another man right in front of him was uncalled for. It was as clumsy and in his face as if she were still a teenage girl getting attention from the hot jock. Right down to the giggles. He could see Lacey fucking groping his leg and just dying to touch even more – Kane almost said something when Tait stepped in. He deftly slid his own palm over top of Lacey’s hand and pressed down. He stopped her moving. Still feeling him of course, but she was no longer exploring. “Thanks for the flattery. You're too kind. But let's be honest. The gray hair is coming out a lot more than it used to be. I still recover from a workout very fast compared to someone else my age, but not like I did five years ago. We all lose our battle with time. So, you two should enjoy every moment. I have no regrets except…” Tait stopped for a moment. Kane could see a flash across his face of the love his father had for his mother. Tait would never allow himself to break down in public. But that reaction to a thought of his mother was enough to break Kane's anger. “Except for perhaps one. And, frankly, you remind me a bit of her, Lacey.” Tait took a breath to center himself and then he continued, “I've lived life the best I could. And still try. That's why I'm doing this. To live life the best I can before I can’t. I want the same for you two. No matter what that means and where it takes you both. Be who you are and live life to the fullest.” Lacey stopped her attempts at feeling, leaving her hand resting on his quad, but followed up, curiously. “Living our best lives is one thing, but… a pin up calendar?” Tait laughed deeply. “Ya. One of the bright ideas of the League.” Tait said sarcastically, clearly amused at the thought. “They were trying to get more female fans. So their solution was to have those of us who were particularly good looking or at least had good abs that they could airbrush pose for these pin up calendars. Guys of the Gridiron, or something just as cringeworthy, haha. “Never did a thing to get more women fans of the game as far as I know. We just became a little bit of - well - fantasy material for some women and a few guys I guess.” Tait chucked again. “But I did a few calendars to raise money for charity while I was playing. Like, the ones that raise money for animal shelters - what do they call them now “Bullies and Biceps” or “Hunks and Hounds–” Tait laughed again. “I was there with all these fitness models and bodybuilders. A fish out of water as a pro football player with these little pin up dudes. Anyway, they raised some money for good causes. That I am happy to have done. You might even be able to find some of me when I was Kane's age showing off my assets.” “But ya, I want to get truly massive if I can... in fact, I'm working out at the 49ers facility while I am here to stick to the goal. Do that at every team facility when I have to go to in-person interviews. You're both welcome to come if you like. I'm sure the team wouldn't mind.” Tait smiled. “Really,” Lacey said, clearly excited to see Tait in something a bit more revealing than proper clothing. Now it was Tait’s turn. He knew what she was thinking and slightly rubbed Lacey’s hand on his quad. It was imperceptible to anyone visually. But Lacey felt it. “Of course. As often as you like.” He looked at Kane. “Both of you. I’ve never done a workout with you, Son. That would be amazing if we could. I can even try and set up something permanent if you both want.” Feeling Tait’s touch, seeing what she saw, hearing Tait’s invitation to the gym. Lacey just couldn't resist anymore. It was so cliche - but cliche’s work because they are so often real. “Tait - would it be OK if I… if I… see your-” she stumbled over herself, a ball of hormones and nerves. Kane finally snapped. He had endured so much these last few minutes. And this was the last straw. “Lacey, get hold of yourself. This is embarrassing. You wanna date my Dad or something. You sure as hell are feeling him up. Maybe it is just better if I leave you two to it - fuck…” Kane stood to leave, when both Tait and Lacey said, “ Kane, WAIT–” Both immediately withdrew their hands from each other. And as they did Lacey realized just where her hands were. What she was doing… Fuck. Kane was right. She had been flirting with Tait this whole time. She'd been touching him since he had sat in his chair. She just… couldn't help it. Tait was so different and dominant compared to every man she had ever seen, she just felt compelled. Tait was just too powerful a presence for her instincts. She did it even though she intellectually didn't want to. And she had offended the man she loved. Lacey was about to say something when Tait again intervened, again saving the young people. “I'm sorry son. I shouldn't have allowed the conversation to go that way. And I should have stopped anything that crossed any boundaries that you both have. It is not Lacey’s fault. It is mine. You can remember how many people asked me to flex for them or take pics with them when you were a kid. It bothered your mother until she came to understand that it is nothing more than a compliment and I never would dishonor another person or myself by crossing a boundary. She even came to laugh at it. I'm sorry if I have violated any boundary between you two. Can you forgive me?” Tait’s statement about his mother brought back a flood of memories. Indeed he could remember so many times as a kid when people would ask his father to flex or ask for photos… And they'd try to feel his arm. Doing it for kids was one thing but he also remembered the women. So many women. He also remembered his parents laughing and joking after. He always thought it was his Dad being a player - and not the football kind. But now he remembered conversations. Laughing about some reaction. They never made sense to his child’s brain… Until now. “I… I guess so Dad. I didn't remember until now but she and grandma used to laugh about it. She thought you being a hunk was great fun. I… Just…” “No son. I understand. Your mother was one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. I was quite protective of her if you remember. Like I said, Lacey reminds me of her a bit. More than I think you can know. So maybe it is a bit of nostalgia too, no offense intended to Lacey. It is a GREAT compliment. But perhaps I became too familiar out of habit.” “I get it Dad. And I'm sorry. Both of you.” Tait then smiled. “OK, now if it is not violating any boundary and in the spirit we just talked about. If you're OK Kane and Lacey I'm happy to satisfy Lacey’s curiosity and flex for her. You haven't seen the truly bigger me either. And then we will laugh about it. I mean I'm not in the habit of flexing in a Michelin star restaurant. A different kind of beef than what is on the surf and turf? We can satisfy Lacey’s curiosity and I doubt she will ever ask anyone again as I doubt she will ever see any bigger…” Tait smiled broadly - a smile that could melt glaciers. Lacey said, “Kane, please. Really, I am just curious. That's all.” “Alright. Alright. Go ahead. I suppose you will always wonder until you see it. And I have to admit I am a little curious myself. You’re bigger than I ever remember you being, Dad.” Kane said in surrender - and it was true that he was curious. He didn't want to admit it and it was for a very different reason… but he wanted to see his dad flex too. “Well then kiddo, I'll give you a dose of the cannons to feel later.” Tait laughed deeply. “In the meantime, Lacey. Tell me what you think.” Tait bent down in his chair a bit to not draw quite as much attention as a full out flex would do. He held his arm down to be within easy reach and then curled his monster forearm and fist around and up. The muscles of the upper arm rose and Rose and ROSE. Tait smiled as the gigantic muscle took full form. Even Kane in disbelief said, “Christ, Dad.” Tait’s arm was the diameter of a volleyball. A tremendously shaped, peaked mountain exploded out, covered with several thick and thin veins across its surface. The thick/thin skin Lacey noted earlier traced out many striations and a well-developed cleft between the heads of the muscle. The well-made polo covering it made a creaking sound, as the stitching of the custom made shirt was stretched to the limit before Tait rolled the sleeve back to afford a full view of the monster ball and the massive hanging horseshoe beneath the dome. Tait pumped it out and in a couple times. “Thanks Son. It is better with a pump, being honest, but it’s still pretty good. Go ahead Lacey. Tell me what you think.” Lacey’s trembling hands - both of them - reached over and tried to wrap around Tait’s arm. She failed hardcore with many inches between the hand on the bottom and the hand on the top. In fact, her top hand could not even cover half of the biceps mountain. “Oh my GOD.” she said. She tried to squeeze it, but she had no ability to move it at all. It felt like a warm bronze statue in the summer. The flesh was unyielding to her at all. Yet - she felt it move, but only at Tait’s whim. Tait smiled more broadly as he saw her reaction. She moved her hands, trying to feel any soft spot, any weakness, any spot at all that felt like flesh and not rock. There was none. “Oh my God, Tait, Kane, it is SO BIG and HARD. I mean you had hard muscles when we were in school but nothing like this. Tait, you must be the strongest person ever in the gym. Jeez.” “Go ahead and hit it a bit if you want. It’s the same.” Lacey obeyed, fawning as her slight pops became harder and harder into slaps and then into punches. For a girl, Lacey was very strong and fit and knew how to throw a punch from her classes at the gym, Yet all she felt was a sting in her own hand as hit after hit did nothing but make Tait smile at her. “Fuck.” She said under her breath. “I don’t think I could make a dent in this with a baseball bat, Kane. It’s like all the muscle on your whole body is in this one arm. Your muscles have never felt like this. Your muscles are nothing like this. I bet if he squeezed you he could crush you. Wow.” She said under her breath. Tait laughed, “I take it you approve.” “It is the most manly muscle I have ever, ever felt. You’re right Tait. I never need to feel another muscle on a guy again. No one else will ever measure up. I can’t wait to see you put these football guys to shame in the 49ers gym. Can we go Kane, please. I really want to see Tait embarrass a few of those fucks I remember from school.” Tait was still flexing for Lacey, Lacey still feeling, and Kane … Kane still in utter awe. Kane would have felt offended that Lacey flatly said that she would never want to feel his body again after feeling his Dad’s but - he couldn’t. He had hugged his Dad earlier. He had felt his Dad’s body. And seeing this… he wondered if Lacey’s comment wasn’t true. He certainly could never build what his Dad had. He wished he could. He wished he could do ANYTHING to come even close to that. But he had no idea how. And Kane felt… something. Something like gravity. A pull toward SOMETHING... Kane never betrayed the gravity he felt toward his father’s muscle display. “I guess Lacey, if you want and if you are sure, Dad. I’ll go.” “Absolutely. I’ll call Roger Goodell and make it happen if I have to. He owes me a favor anyway. And… thanks for indulging and letting me show off just a bit Matty.” Kane groaned and Lacey looked up at Tait, even as he pumped his arm a few more times under her roaming hands. "Who is Matty?" Kane just looked down, his whole body seemingly turning red in embarrassment. Kane sighed. "Me. That’s what mom and dad called me as a kid. I went by Matt everywhere else except my family called me Matty - until I started using my middle name Kane in college. Guys back on the high school wrestling team heard Dad call me Matty, and the name stuck like glue." Tait looked a bit sheepish. "Damn, son. I’m sorry. There I go telling old men stories. It's just one of those old habits. I know how you feel about Matty." Lacey smiled and chuckled. “I, however, just got a little bit of leverage in the war between the sexes.” In a tremendously cheeky bold move, Lacey bent over and planted a small peck kiss on Tait’s still flexed biceps - the only part of him she could reach as big as he was. “Thank you, Tait. I may have to use it sometime… Matty.” Tait laughed hard and Kane turned redder still. It was really one of those classic parent stories they tell on their kids but… there was something in Lacey’s eyes, on her face. Something. And then it was gone. Tait spoke up. “At least if I do it now, Kane, I won’t get in as much trouble. But I will try to keep that as private as possible. Anyway, It will be a pleasure to show off for you both. It has been a while since someone appreciated what I do with the players – and to the players.” Tait laughed as he slowly lowered his arm. Lacey’s hands hung in mid air for a few moments before she lowered them. She loved Matty… rather Kane like her life depended on it, but… She just HAD to feel that arm again - HAD TO - when she could tell Tait what she really thought - alone when Kane would not hear. HAD TO before Tait left again for New York. “What do you mean Tait,” Lacey said shakily. “What do you do to players?” Tait smiled. "You both were athletes at Stanford. Imagine someone like Christian McCaffrey being told he has to be interviewed by an NFL staff psychiatrist for potential draft teams. He is expecting some short fat dork who has never even taken an elementary school flag football snap to walk in. How do those athletes react when they see me come in and the first thing I do is ask them to do is to take me through their daily workout... and the dork doc beats their ass in every lift." Kane said in a not exactly joking manner after the name “Matty” came out, "Dad has always liked to lord his abilities over other players." Tait looked at them both. "No, it's not that at all. Yes, keeping up with them or beating them in the gym is an ego boost to me, and it hits their ego. But it also serves a purpose in my psychological evaluation of them. “As a rookie in the League, no matter who you are or how good a college player you are, being new in the League, in practice and games and the locker room, you face being physically out-performed and bullied a bit by teammates and rival players. We are all paid professionals, but it is testosterone-fueled men and there is a pecking order and can be pissing wars and dick length contests, at least metaphorically. It is part of tradition, and playing with the best players in the world. Some say I am in the running for the greatest tight end of all time, and it happened to me. I remember getting my bell rung once like I was Big Ben in my first game with Charles Woodsen. Once I got accustomed to the League, half the time some corner in the secondary tried to make a tackle on me and they just bounced off. But that first year or two, I still got flattened more than once and reamed by the locker room and the coaches for it. “By me being a doctor and a retiree and still beating their lifts, I get to see in a small way how they will deal with adjustment to the League psychologically. Can they roll with it and adapt to not being Big Man on Campus anymore and be willing to learn or do they fold and wash out? It's important to see how they will react when I trash talk them a bit, since that will show me how they will take that trash talk in the locker room or that coach ripping them a new asshole for missing an assignment. They also tend to open up to me.a lot more after seeing proof that I really did play in the League. That, though I'm a doc now, I still know the NFL on the field and in the locker room - and could maybe still play if I wanted. That confidence and trust in me is important to get to their true feelings and attitudes and how those will gel with the various clubs and team cultures around the League." Lacey was utterly enchanted getting to hear some of Tait’s intellect and mental prowess at work. But even Kane understood, maybe for the first time in his life, that what he so often saw out of his dad wasn't just being a jock. He remembered what it was like to be called Matty by his teammates. How he sometimes felt belittled by it. Like a tiny boy when he would lose some practice matches or get out worked in the gym or starving to come in on weight. It gnawed at him so much so he changed his name. And the locker room at Stanford was even harder… he could nigh imagine what being a rookie in the NFL was like. The millions spent on one person - if they crumbled like he had crumbled at this lunch seeing so many innocent things as an attack. He understood. It made sense. Tait was doing them a favor by out performing them. Kane knew - he would do the same thing himself for the same reason if he had his Dad’s ability and prowess. Kane’s respect for his Dad expanded at that moment - he was more of a proper man than even he understood. The gravity toward his father increased… “What else do you do for the NFL?” Lacey asked… And so it went as the trio had a wonderful lunch. Lacey drove the conversation, pressing for more and more information about Tait. Tait, happily engaging and observing. And through the entire lunch, Lacey’s hand - whenever she could - touching and feeling Tait’s hard muscles when she thought Kane wouldn’t notice. Tait, having been told that it was no longer crossing a boundary, allowing Lacey to explore to a point. And Kane - gaining more and more appreciation and admiration. Kane’s resistance to the force that pulled him toward his dad slowly collapsing. Kane’s ability to resist his father in anything - slowly crumbling. The feeling… disturbing feeling, slowly increasing. The conflict that had slapped him in the face with the force of a steel chain to the mouth - slowly growing. But, finally, as it always does, the lunch came to an end. After Tait took care of the bill, the three of them walked through the door, and then stood outside. Tait first embraced his son. “I will be in town all week, son. I want to see you again, anytime I can. If not before the trip to the gym, then how about after that. I would really like a little father-son time if that is OK.” Tait then made his son look up as he looked down into the softer male face. “Maybe lunch or dinner, just you and me.” Tait’s tone was obvious - a time when Lacey was not there and when Kane would be a lot less defensive. And Kane could talk openly. Kane thought for a minute and nodded yes. He had never truly been able to say no to his Dad for long. He had never seen anyone who had truly been able to say no to Tait Holden. Then Tait turned to Lacey. “And you, young lady. Thank you for the wonderful meal and wonderful conversation. And I can’t wait to get to know you better as well.” “I can’t wait either, Tait.” Lacey said. The giant embraced the beauty queen, and the beauty queen returned the hug. Tait noticed something that no one could ever see given his size. Lacey - sure, she was hugging him. A hug that was a little too tight, a little too close, hands moving a little too much. She was feeling more than just his muscle again. She was leaning into him, like trying to draw strength from him. For what purpose unless it was – Tait felt her small hand slide just down just a bit. Too far down. The hand went over his hard glute cheek. Feeling, exploring. Kane could not see what she was doing given his massive frame. Tait did what he had done all night, only this time half out of reflex and half out of showing off. He flexed his glutes under her hand. The hand found them particularly impenetrable, as she traced lines until she found the entrance to one of his back pants pockets. The hand slid inside. Tait felt something… and then the hand withdrew and slid back up onto his low back. She pulled back, looked up, and gave Tait a strange, knowing glance. She then took Kane’s hand as if nothing had happened. As the three left the restaurant and Tait started for his car, Lacey could not help looking at Tait’s huge size 18 boots. She happened to wonder for a moment if the old saying was true, as she glanced down to Kane’s size 7 shoes… *** Tait got to the passenger door of the 49er’s team car and opened it. It was only then that he reached his hand into his back pants pocket. His fingers discovered a folded piece of paper. He withdrew it and opened it. Written there was a note - when had she had a chance to write this? - Was her hand feeling his leg, trying to get to a front pocket but was unable? Either way, she was good. Very good. “Tait - Please contact me ASAP. I need to see you again urgently. But text only. 123-555-1212. Please do not call. And PLEASE - Don't tell Kane. - Lacey” ***

Trying something a little different here. Basic synopsis: A powerful, dominant serial killer is murdering massive bodybuilders with his bare hands, and a police detective (himself a massive bodybuilder) must track him down while fighting his own lustful attraction to the uber-masculine perpetrator.] Warnings: Snuff, Gore, Horror POP “You’re supposed to wear a coverall, like me,” said Dr Stain, the medical examiner, who in his white head-to-toe gear, contrasted sharply with the slimy red gore that covered the entire apartment. “And look like a cumshot in a uterus, like you?” said Detective Carnitas. “Not likely, chum. ‘Sides, they didn’t have one in my size.” “They don’t have doors in your size, Detective.” “True. Guess I’m just too much man for this world.” Carnitas did have to turn sideways to fit his 6’6” 450 lbs of swollen muscles through the door of this crime-scene-cum-abattoir. “This guy was too. Now literally, I guess. So be careful what you wish for.” The giant detective looked at the body. It looked like a skeleton wrapped in a bag of oversized skin. “What the fuck are you on about? This was a fat dude that had some kind of weight-loss surgery.” “Very sudden weight-loss surgery.” The doctor extended a pair of stainless steel forceps and pulled up the skin of the ragged corpse’s chest. “Weird.” Carnitas grabbed the second tool offered by the pathologist and together they raised the pec skin, which had enough area to cover a 60 inch chest. “And this surgeon needs to sharpen his scalpel, look here.” Jagged rends broke the skin at the top and sides of the chest. “It’s like the fat just burst outta him,” said the dumbfounded cop. “Not fat.” The doc pointed at the ceiling, walls and windows. “Look around at all this tissue, it’s pure red meat, no adipose.” “Are you telling me some perp exploded an Olympia-sized, fully-conditioned bodybuilder in his own apartment? What kind of weapon could do that? There’s no grenade shrapnel or burns.” Det. Carnitas felt his heart racing. “No weapon.” “So he took it with him.” “Nope.” Carnitas looked askance at the doctor. “No need to tax your brain overmuch, Detective. There’s video.” The doctor stood and crossed to a desktop computer with a webcam and used his gloved hand to wipe gore off the screen. Carnitas took a sharp breath. It was a freeze-frame shot of a red explosion that was surely the moment of death. But the red burst had a milky-white center. He found himself holding his breath, his heart fluttering as he looked closer. It was a man’s back. Though the man was half the size of the victim, he had the most densely muscled back Carnitas had ever seen. The groove of the spinal erectors in his Christmas tree was deep enough to trap a man’s fingers up to the third knuckle. His lats looked like twin wine barrels tucked under his brawny arms. His massive, tenticular traps formed a monstrous Kraken that seemed to pin Carnitas’ brown eyes with a burning glare. “What the fuck?” The doctor grabbed the mouse to click the symbol to back the vid up ten seconds. Carnitas gasped when primal sounds erupted from a fully equipped stereo system. The video showed a bloated mega-heavyweight bodybuilder who could have been Carnitas’ twin, held aloft and practically vibrating with lust in the concrete arms of the muscular perp. A high-pitched sexual whine ululated out of the bodybuilder’s cum-covered lips as the perps lats spread to eclipse their view of the vic’s mid-torso. The dominating bear-hug compressed the middle of the massive victim’s physique, swelling the top half of his pecs so much they pushed up into his chin, forcing his neck back til his whole head was obscured by deformed pec-meat blistered with stretch marks. Beastly basso-profundo grunts shot out of the subwoofer as that inhuman back rippled and flexed with incalculable strength. “Fucking hell.” Carnitas was finding it hard to breathe. The grunts got longer, louder and deeper, a counterpoint to the rising tone of the vic’s squeal, which sounded like air leaking out of a balloon. “No…” burbled the helpless vic, just as his body became a crimson supernova. Red flesh burst in all directions out of distressed skin as muscles built over years of obsessive workouts splattered like bugs on a windshield against vastly superior brawn. Carnitas was shocked and bewildered, but what happened next truly turned his world upside down. The perps wordless grunts slid into consonants and vowels as a long lingering… “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHH!!!!” … vibrated the floorboards. The sheer manly amplitude of the perp’s ultra-deep voice traveled the distance to where Carnitas stood, thundered up his shins, crossed in an X across his 38” quads and locked his groin in a vice. He couldn’t have taken his eyes off of the screen if he wanted to, as the perp turned to the side. The massive arms dropped casually to his sides, and the crushed torso slumped, but still clung goo-like to granite pecs shaped like Atlas stones that now filled the vic’s ribcage where vital organs once pulsed. A pec bounce jiggled the deformed corpse like a macabre marionette, which the perp found amusing. “HUH-HUH-HUH.” His lewd, rumbly chuckle reached out to Carnitas’ bloated prick and blasted the cum out of it like toothpaste from a tube crushed by a fist. Another pec bounce loosened the vacuum of the vic’s collapsed lungs and the sodden necrotic mess slid to the floor. As those insanely pumped, veiny boulder pecs approached the camera, the perp wiped the victim’s blood from their curvature, revealing a massive chest-and-abs tatt that penetrated the bodybuilder cop’s brain like an ice pick: GONNA POP U BITCH Carnitas blacked out as he heard the perp’s final words: “WHO’S NEXT?”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 1: Move-in day your freshman year of college is nerve-wracking for everyone. But for me, it was doubly so. Like most other freshmen at my midwestern university, I was moving into a dorm on campus. My new roommate had been assigned randomly via a lottery. All I knew was his name, email, plus what little I could glean from social media. Not much. Frank Ryan, from Dallas, Texas. His only profile photo (if it was even his) was a thumbnail image of a high school football player mid-play. I couldn't really make out what he looked like. For 18-year-old me, a total nerd with an unhealthy obsession with muscle-bound jocks, this was more than enough to make my heart pound and my imagination reel. After Frank was assigned as my roommate in July, I had sent him a long email: How excited I was to be roommates, where I'm from, what I'll be studying, logistical details about my arrival, etc. His reply back was terse. Sounds good man - looking fwd. I move in 1 day b4 u Frank Gulp. --- I was moving all by myself. My parents lived in California and couldn't fly out with me. So when I arrived at the residence hall (buzzing with activity from all the other arrivals), it was just me lugging two enormous suitcases, drenched with sweat from the effort. I got to the door of my room, 201B. I heard the sound of someone's feet inside, plus another buzzing noise I couldn't recognize. There was a faint, manly aroma in the air. Should I knock? I asked myself. I decided I should. I gently tapped the door. No answer. I knocked harder. No answer. Then I pounded the door, but got no response. I lurked outside for a few minutes, unsure what to do. I took a deep breath and decided to go in. The door was unlocked. "HELLO?" I said, to announce myself. "Frank?" I walked in and saw what remains, to this day, the most shocking image of my life. A monstrous, shirtless man was standing with his back to me. His olive-skinned body looked genuinely unreal -- impossible to describe how much muscle hung on his enormous frame. I gauged he was probably 6'4, but his slightly hairy back looked almost as wide as he was tall. Even more startling than his back was his ass, which was so large it literally sucked his XXL gym shorts into its crack, so I could see each globe of his bubble butt in amazing detail. He was standing barefoot on a grey towel, even his calves bulging unnaturally. The muscle freak had noise-canceling headphones on (which explained why he hadn't heard me knocking). I heard a buzzing noise and saw he was holding a hair trimmer. I realized he was standing in front of the mirror, buzzing his chest. As I stepped into the small room, he still hadn't heard me. I smelled the intoxicating scent of sweat, as if there were clouds of testosterone in the air. "HELLO?" I said again, my voice quavering. He didn't turn around, but kept bouncing his head (which looked tiny compared to his body) to the music playing in his headphones. I crept closer, and suddenly caught sight of his eyes in the mirror reflection. Startled, he whipped his massive body around. The room was so small -- and his reaction was so quick -- that his bare, left pec slammed right into my face with tremendous force. I flew backwards three feet and landed on my ass. "Frank?" I said as I stood up. "It's me, James. Your roommate." "James?! FUCK! You scared the shit out of me, dude!" A voice to match his body: Deep. Hyper-masculine. Unreal. "I'm sorry," I muttered. "I knocked a bunch of times, but you had your headphones in." My eyes made their way up to Frank's face. I actively tried to ignore what I saw: a face that looked like a young Henry Cavill, only with a buzz-cut and a thick, dark beard. My new roommate was a Mr. Olympia-sized bodybuilder. That was enough for now. I couldn't deal with the fact that he had a perfect face, too. "No worries, man," he said, smiling, his voice so deep it sent a jolt of pleasure right to my dick. His eyes were gleaming. "Great to meet you. Sorry to bump into you. And for the mess. I was just trimming my chest..." I now noticed the pile of dark body hair on the towel on the floor, and that his HUGE pecs were trimmed on one side, dark and furry on the other. This guy was 18?! "It's fine. I didn't know you'd be so...so..." Now I couldn't take my eyes off his pecs. They were only a foot or so from my face. Eye level. I wanted to touch them more than anything in the world. I started to blush. Veiny. Hairy. Juicy. One of them twitched involuntarily. I thought I might faint. Frank helped me out: "So big? Yeah, I'm starting as a lineman on the football team. Been bulking up this summer -- gained 50 pounds!" Frank flexed right arm. "Yeaaa buddy!" The shockingly defined bicep that formed must have been 24 inches, at least. "Holy shit..." I mumbled. I was starting to feel dizzy. I craned up my neck to look him in the eye, so I wouldn't get a hard-on from staring at his body. But his face was so handsome that I went even more red. "Anyway, I'm glad you're finally here, because I wanted to tell you something. You see how the bunk bed is all fucked up?" Those shoulders. Each one was the size of a basketball. That beard. That voice. It was so ridiculously deep. Barely sounded human. It was like every time he spoke, someone was caressing my dick. "James, you there?" "Huh?" I said. "You spaced out there for a sec. You got distracted?" He smiled and winked, and bounced his pecs -- more innocent than arrogant. "Anyway, I was saying -- you see how the bed is all fucked up?" I now noticed that the bunk bed was indeed fucked up. Instead of being stacked vertically, both beds were laid side by side, almost touching each other. They left almost no floorspace in the small room. Frank continued: "Well, when I got here, they said that we had to set it up this way. It turns out I'm too heavy for the bunks. It's a safety hazard if you're over 300 pounds because they might collapse when two people get in them. I'm 320. Can you believe that shit? So they made me move them side by side. I don't really care, it's fine this way, but I wanted you to know in case you mind crawling over my bed to get to yours. It's fine if you want to swap roommates with someone else. They might still let you." "NO! It's fine! I don't mind," I said with far too much enthusiasm. "You sure? I know it's annoying." "Don't worry," I assured him. "Cool, I appreciate you being so chill about it. Here, let me help with your stuff." Before I could object, Frank bolted out the hallway door, bubble butt bouncing behind him, and grabbed both my enormous bags. As if they weighed no more than feathers, he dropped them in the room and closed the door. There was barely any space in the room. His pecs were once again mere inches from my face. I couldn't decide which I loved more, the furry one or the buzzed one. "Don't want to let the AC out," he said. "You mind if I finish this up while you're unpacking?" he asked, pointing down to his half-furry, half-buzzed torso. "No, not at all." I realized I had little chest hairs all over my face, from where his sweaty pec had slapped into me. I turned my back to Frank and unpacked my stuff, or tried to. I could barely think. I was just picking things up, putting them back down, in a daze. My hands were shaking. I tried to pretend that a bearded, 18-year-old, 320-pound, super-heavyweight bodybuilder wasn't trimming his body hair three feet away. As if I couldn't hear him wheezing. Fuck, even the way he held the beard trimmer in his giant paws was hot. Then I noticed all the jock paraphernalia littered around the room: Protein powder, creatine, trophies, supplements, a white jockstrap hanging on the door handle, a football helmet, bodybuilding magazines, a sweaty wife-beater on the floor. Was that a cum rag in the corner? I realized how intense the smell in the room was. Not mildewy or sour. A rich, earthy, masculine musk. Pure pheromones. Against my concerted will, my cock started to harden. Out of nowhere, Frank's massive, calloused hand clasped my entire shoulder. I gasped and spun around to face him. His twitchy, veiny pecs -- fully buzzed now -- were four inches from my face. The dark bristly chest hair looked like it was already starting to grow back. It took all the self-control I had not to bury my face in them. "Hey man," Frank said, his voice serious and deep. "There's something else I wanted to talk to you about. Maybe we can sit down." I sat down on the bed, my arms covering my lap to hide my throbbing erection. Frank sat down right beside me, no personal space at all. The bed creaked loudly. His arousing smell was even more intense up close. Plus, somehow, his mounds of muscle looked even freakier seated and relaxed. Each of his hairy, veiny arms was thicker than my leg. Despite the serious expression on his face, my cock was starting to leak. "Look," he began, looking into my eyes earnestly. "You seem like a really chill guy, and, uh, there's something I, uh...I wanted to..." He trailed off. Was HE nervous? I couldn't believe this monster who could rip my arm off was stammering. "There's something you want to tell me?" I looked up from Frank's six pack, his perfect, heaving pecs, past his bulging, gorilla-like neck, his thick beard and sensual lips, and locked eyes with him. HE was blushing! "Yeah. It's something I haven't told many people about. But I've been thinking... New school, new roommate... I ought to warn you, in case you're not cool with it." "Warn me about what?" "I'm, uh... I'm...Um..." He was crimson red now. He hunched over, looking defeated, yet this posture only made his bare muscles look more swollen and unreal. When he lifted his arm up to scratch his forehead nervously, a 24-inch peak formed, and dark bushels of pit hair released an even stronger musk. I gasped. "It's OK, Frank, you can tell me." As I spoke, I reached out and touched his hairy shoulder. I was both desperate to touch his body and trying to be reassuring. Yet the muscle felt so rock-hard that I gulped with disbelief. "I'm... I'm....You should know I'm... I'm into, uh, into, um... Other... guys." "You're gay?" I said, shell-shocked. Now he was not just blushing, his lip was quivering. He looked like he might cry. But his eyes remained locked with mine, almost bravely. "I just thought it might be weird for you, sharing a room with... with... Well...I wanted to warn you." I sighed. "Well, I appreciate the warning. But it's not an issue, Frank." His eyes brightened. He smiled. So fucking adorable, I thought. "It's not?" "No, it's not a problem. Gay guys and straight guys get paired up all the time. It's not like being gay means you can't control yourself around your roommate." God, I thought to myself, I'm proof of this: How badly I wanted to kiss him right now. "I was so worried to tell you," he said. "Last month when you emailed me, I almost thought of telling you then. There are only a few other people I've ever mentioned it to. No one on the football team knows. They all assume I'm straight, because, you know." He gestured at his 320 pounds of beefy, barely clothed muscle. My throat went dry. "To be honest, Frank," I said, "I probably should have said something, too. It would have been a lot easier for you. I'm into guys too." His eyes widened. "WHAT!? You serious!?" "Uh, yeah..." "You're kidding me. You are too?" "Yep! Small world, right? Or whatever the expression... You know what I mean." Frank's mind looked completely blown. "You're fucking with me." "No, I am not." "Bro...That makes me so happy." "Me too. Honestly, I also felt a little worried about being paired with a straight guy. Wasn't sure how he'd react." "Dude..." He trailed off, and his eyes looked me up and down. Was he checking me out? Suddenly, Frank pulled me in for a bear hug. I felt the abrasive texture of his chest stubble, the pecs hard as granite, breathed in his sweaty musk. "I'm just so happy how this turned out," he said. My dick went from semi to rock hard in about one second, well beyond my control. I mean, a bare-chested bodybuilder the size of a Mr. Olympia was hugging me. I felt mortified. Even then, at 18, I knew I was quite hung, about 8 inches, and that my hard-on would be conspicuous. Yet his grasp was so strong, his musk so heavenly, there was nothing I could do but squeeze him tighter. Then I felt it. Frank's cock was hard too. 9 or 10 inches, from the feel of it. Suddenly I realized that Frank wasn't hugging me. He was groping me. His hands were squeezing my ass, my lower back, the back of my neck. He was wheezing, moaning, in a horned up kind of way. "Fuck ya, fuck bro... fuck ya..." he muttered quietly. I felt his thick beard and tongue caressing my neck, smelled the beautiful pheromones that wafted from his hairy pits. Then he started kissing me on the mouth, his tongue gentler than I would have expected. I was in such a state of shock that I didn't even reciprocate. I just let him grope me and kiss me, held captive in his beastly arms, my eyes wide open. The situation had escalated faster than I ever could have imagined. It had only been 10 minutes since I learned that the biggest, sexiest, hairiest muscle freak I'd ever seen was going to be my college roommate. Now he was kissing me, squeezing me, caressing my dick with his strong hands, pulling off my clothes... Frank shoved my face into his cleavage. Each pec was the size of a textbook. I sucked on his nipples in ecstacy. "AHH FUCK BRO!" he moaned -- so loud that I was sure the R.A. down the hall would hear it. As I did, it occurred to me that Frank had probably not met many other openly gay men. I might have even been the first. Maybe he thought that it was automatic for two guys -- once it was established that they were both gay -- to go at it like rabbits. (How ironic, I thought, that this hyper-sexualized muscle god probably had less experience in bed than I did.) Frank's naivete and eagerness, while perhaps a little sad, were also charming -- and flattering. Everything I did, like kissing his neck, or brushing my hand over his shaft, elicited ten times more arousal than I was expecting it to. When I slipped my hand into his gym shorts and cupped his grapefruit-sized balls, pre-cum gushed from his cock. "Fuck yeah dude. AW! AW! AW!" Moaning louder than ever, Frank laid me out on one of the beds. The mattress was bare. (Whether it was his bed or mine, I wasn't sure yet). He pinned me down -- his buzzed, veiny muscles looking even freakier as they writhed on top of me. The 18-year-old mountain of muscle kissed my neck, my lips, with more passion than I would have ever felt entitled to. His cock, which turned out to be more like 10.5 inches -- as superlative as the body it was attached to -- had burst out of his gym shorts, and pressed against my abdomen, still leaking a stream of pre. I could tell we were both close to cumming. Yet something in me snapped. I regained my senses. "Frank. FRANK. Wait a minute." I rolled him over onto his back. The bed frame squealed. I sat up on top of his teardrop-shaped super-quads, looking down at his surprised expression. From this angle, a giant shelf of pec meat obfuscated part of his face. His shockingly well-defined six pack pulsed in and out as he breathed heavily. His cock oozed more pre. "What?" he asked. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" "What do you mean? I thought you said you were gay." "Yeah, but I'm your roommate. Is hooking up... you know... a bad move?" "What... You...You... don't like me?" His face looked heartbroken and insecure, even while he propped up his head with a twitching 24-inch bicep. "No, no, that's not it at all, Frank!" He brushed me off from on top of him. I almost flew off the bed. Then he petulantly turned his back to me, so he was lying on his side facing the wall. The bed creaked and screeched. Even then, when I was afraid about having upset him, I was amazed by the muscles on display. My throat went dry. Frank's lats were so wide that his back soared several feet in the air, like a ship's sail. Each globe of his ass was the size of a watermelon. His weight made the whole mattress slope down towards his side. The force of gravity pressed me right against his back. "Am I too big for you?" he said, muffled, with his mutant lats to me. Was he crying? "What? No!" "People always get freaked out by me. Guys, girls... They think I'm going to hurt them or something..." he said. I caressed his traps gently. I couldn't believe this was the same muscle group that connected to my own neck. On him, they looked as wide and strong as a horse bridle. It was like he had a different anatomy than other human beings... Despite my grandstanding about not hooking up, I was still hard, and in fact, pretty close to cumming. I attempted to refocus. "Frank, c'mon. Turn around. Look at me," I said tenderly. He flipped onto his other side to face me. His weight caused such a large dip in the mattress that my face flew right into his sweaty pecs. I pushed myself out and looked him in the eyes. His veiny neck must have been 18 inches round, but his face looked surprisingly boyish and hurt. I tried not to look down at the unreal chest, cock and quads that were just inches away from me, totally naked now. "It's not that I'm freaked out by you," I said, not entirely honestly. Frank's muscles were extreme even by pro bodybuilding standards. He was 320 pounds, but he couldn't have had body fat above 5%. I didn't understand how an 18 year old could be this huge. How many years had he been on steroids? "You're not?" "Well, no. To be honest with you, Frank, I've always been into muscle. Like...Really into muscle. As long as I can remember. In fact, when I walked in here and saw you, I felt like I was dreaming. When I was 13, I used to steal bodybuilding magazines from 7-11 and jerk off to the photos. And you're bigger than any of them. You're bigger than Jay Cutler or Nick Walker or Big Ramy. And you're better looking, too. You're the hottest person I've ever met -- no, ever seen -- in my entire life." Frank's eyes brightened. I continued: "The thing is, just, uh... We're roommates. So I'm worried it's a bad idea to hook up.. You know... Maybe it will get awkward?" Now Frank raised a devilish eyebrow. "You like muscle?" he said, smiling. It occurred to me I had never admitted my obsession to anyone else before, even though it occupied me every hour of every day. "Mhm," I said. "You know what I'm into? Handsome, sexy, smart guys. Like you." (My heart almost stopped.) "When you walked in and I got a look at you, I didn't know how I'd be able to keep it in my pants all year bro. You're totally my type. And if you think for one second we're not going to hook up, just because we're roommates...When you're into muscle..." Now Frank flexed an arm with a cocky energy that made my head spin. "You think I'm big now? I'm just getting started. I'll be 350 by winter break. And if you think you're not going to worship these muscles, feel them up every single night, suck on them, cuddle them..." he shoved the peak, then his pit, into my face, suffocating me. I immediately came. Warm cum gushed all over the bare mattress and Frank's six pack. Frank got up and straddled me. He still flexed with one arm, jerked his enormous cock with the other. His weight was almost unbearable. "If you think we're not going to fuck every night... If you think we're not going to jerk off together every morning..." His face grew flushed as he tugged on his shaft, one bicep still flexed in a crazy peak. He slurped on his own arm. "AH, AH, UH, UH, UH!!" He sprayed a firehose of cum all over me, drenching my face and torso. I tasted it, a beautiful, sweet, salty taste, and swallowed it. Winking, he climbed off me, and drew me into his swollen arms. -- That day, we moved the two beds right next to each other, so they were basically connected. From then on, we cuddled every night of freshman year. I wouldn't say we were boyfriends. Not exactly. Our relationship only existed inside our dorm room. Outside of it, Frank was the ultimate football jock, the biggest muscle freak the campus had ever known. Most people got chills of fear (or arousal) when he waddled in a room. If anyone even suspected that Frank was gay, he would have been too afraid to say it out loud. Yet as soon as he'd close the dorm room door, Frank would rip his shirt off, kiss me passionately, straddle me with his hard cock bouncing up and down. Nor did I mind this arrangement. On the contrary, I loved knowing that he was all mine. Who would dare hit on him? I'd race home from the library or class, he'd come home from practice or a frat party, and we'd roll around in bed for hours. It never got old. I didn't even JO anymore. What was the point? The biggest, hottest, most hung man imaginable was sleeping next to me every night. I worshipped everything about Frank, even the things that would turn most people off. The constant meals of ground meat and rice. (Every two hours. Every day. From 8am to 11pm.) The vials of tren. (I even helped him inject it.) The snoring. The wheezing. The body hair. The musk. The roid gut. The slightly receding hairline from so much gear. It all drove me crazy. Frank wasn't kidding about getting bigger. He gained forty pounds in four months, pushing his weight up to 360. He lost some of the definition in his abs, yet I liked him even better this way. His cheeks got fuller, while his pecs and ass grew grotesquely large, like oversized balloons about to burst. Once or twice a month, he'd come home with the seat of his XXL shorts ripped apart. Like the creaking bed we shared, our relationship somehow, miraculously, stayed in one piece. I knew it couldn't last forever -- yet I also knew I'd probably never have this much fun again.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 3: After we had fucked another two times, Frank and I rinsed off, then walked to the cafeteria. The other students were beginning to pour in after winter break, and the campus was abuzz with activity. Frank was wearing super-tight grey sweatpants, an even tighter XXL bodybuilder tshirt, and a black baseball cap. It looked like his clothes were about to rip. You could see every detail of his body in perfect definition, from his bubble butt to his nipples down to the head of his massive cock. He waddled into the dining hall. I walked beside him, self-conscious to even be seen with this muscle freak who towered over me. We looked like different species. This was the first time we had ever hung out together outside of our dorm. Sure, I'd bump into him occasionally on campus. He'd always be with some other hulking member of the football team. He would give me a wink, a bro-y nod, or a fist bump. ("Who's that?" I'd hear some hunky, 250-pound teammate asking as I walked away. "My roommate.") Apparently, Frank's rule on being seen with me had changed -- or the rule had never existed. I'm sure I looked strange standing next to him: a good six inches shorter, more than 200 pounds lighter, and unable to take my eyes off his bulging, twitching muscles. I soon realized it didn't matter. Frank drew so much attention, I may as well have been a ghost. The instant people noticed Frank, they went silent. Their minds were clearly blown. A nerdy freshman dropped his tray of food loudly, making a huge mess. We got in line, Frank ravenous and thinking only of his macros — not on the dozens of eyes watching him in disbelief. Without looking, Frank walked forward and bumped into a geeky, 5’7” sophomore boy in front of him. (Frank hadn’t noticed how nervous the boy was to be right in front of a muscle monster three times heavier than himself — though I had, of course.) As they collided, the kid’s head rammed right into Frank’s pecs (his single most oversized muscle group). The poor, closeted nerd stumbled back in a daze, his glasses askew. “Whoops. Sorry bro,” said Frank, looking down nearly a foot -- past his pec shelf -- to the nerd’s face. Frank was unfazed, not realizing he had given the skinny kid a memory he’d probably be jerking off to for years to come. I saw the nerd’s hands shaking as he reached for tongs. I watched Frank pile 12 chicken breasts, 10 hamburger patties, and two pounds of brown rice, and two cups broccoli onto his tray. His enormous hands made the tongs look ridiculous — like doll cutlery. The Mexican lunch ladies stared in disbelief; they barely came up to the middle of Frank's abs. I also noticed a group of jocks staring at Frank. "Holy FUCK, look at the size of him," one said. "You think that's steroids?" another one asked. "C'mon man, of course it is." “Yeah, look at those shoulders man.” "Dude, what the fuck, you can totally see his dick." (Frank, focused on heaping meat onto his tray, caught none of this.) You could see the fear in everyone's eyes as Frank carried his 10-pound meal into the dining room. I was nervous he'd see someone he knew, and I'd have to talk to one of his toxically masculine football jock friends. Fortunately, though, we sat down at a table alone. The bench screeched like it might break. Every table around us went silent. You could sense the other people trying to stare and eavesdrop inconspicuously. When he sat down, Frank's sweatpants couldn't contain his Mr. Universe-sized ass, which was left half-exposed in his white jockstrap. I'm not talking about a little crack. I mean a good 50% of his hairy bubble butt was fully on display. He didn't realize this, of course. I also noticed that his bright white shirt was starting to tear, right down the center of his back, revealing the slightly hairy traps underneath. Frank immediately began to devour his meal. Not like a pig -- more like a robot with a job to do. I had thought he might be stockpiling chicken and beef for later. Nope, I realized, he was going to eat this all in one sitting. Occasionally, he took a break from chewing to drink a swig of water. Otherwise he didn't say anything and barely looked up from his fuel. It struck me how even now, freshly showered and fully clothed, Frank’s musk was intense. "Frank, you might need to buy some bigger clothes," I said. "You think so?" he said, still chewing. "Well your shirt is starting to tear a little." "Ah fuck, I just bought this. Brand new. Biggest size they make." He kept chewing. "The thing is," Frank continued,"I've been bulking for a while. Was thinking of cutting soon. Maybe down to 350.” "I don't think you have much to cut. You have eight-pack abs." "Hmm." Frank pulled up his white shirt over his balloon-like pecs, his hairy nipples pointing straight down. His hairy, olive-skinned, washboard abs were revealed in all their perfection -- engorged as he was with food. You could feel the entire room's rapt attention on him. He counted his abs. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6..." (flexing) "7, 8. I guess you're right." Frank resumed eating wordlessly. He didn't realize -- or didn't care -- that his shirt was still rolled up over his pec shelf. Eventually the shirt fell back and covered most of his torso again -- to my relief, because I was self-conscious about the erection throbbing in my pants. After 20 minutes, Frank's plate was clean. Not even a grain of rice remained. "Fuuuck, I'm actually full," he said. He reclined back in the chair, stretched his 24-inch arms over his head in a relaxed way, like he had just finished a Sunday crossword. Then he casually popped a double bicep, just for a second, for me to see. The sharp peaks still astonished me. Then, for the first time since we had sat down, he actually looked me in the eyes. A moment passed. He didn't say anything, but his face was going a little red. I felt self-conscious until I realized that he was looking at ME with longing. Me?! "Um, James," he said, going even redder. "We might have a little problem." His eyes darted down to his own lap. I pretended to look for something under the table, and looked at Frank's crotch, where a throbbing, 10.5-inch erection was already forming a dark circle of pre-cum in his grey sweatpants. The shaft jolted out so far that it was half exposed. It could not have been more conspicuous or obscene. Every eye in the brightly lit dining hall was already on Frank. How were we gonna get him out of here? "Uh oh..." "Fuck," Frank said. "What are we gonna do?" I could tell he was really worried, but his tren-fueled lust was even more powerful. He was wheezing in the characteristic way he always did when he was horned up. He had no way to calm down his cock. "I have an idea." I picked up my tray like I was about to clear it, then deliberately spilt a full glass of soda and ice right onto his lap. The ice-water temporarily shrunk his hard-on into a mere 8-inch semi -- and it also hid the pre-cum stain on his grey sweats. "Oh no, I'm so sorry, dude!" I said. Frank acted upset, but I could see his relief. Although the "accident' drew even more attention on Frank than before, and his porn-star cock was more or less discernible in the wet sweatpants, he was able to escape the dining hall without a full-blown scandal. We got back to our cum-splattered dorm room and Frank more than repaid me for my savoir-faire. We fucked for hours. I came three times: once in his ass, once in his mouth, and once more in the crevasse of his swollen, furry pecs. — Afterwards, we lay in bed together cuddling. I squeezed my Incredible Hulk, nestled my face in his pits. “Mind shooting me up?” Frank asked. I was startled by how deep his voice sounded, but not by the request. I knew the drill. I would inject a dose of steroids into his right glute. At first, I had been shocked by this. Now I was used to the ritual, an expert at injecting gear. I was even a little turned on. “Sure, no problem.” “Hey James?” Frank asked, towering behind me, totally naked. Sticky, dried cum was splattered all over his body. The smell of his musk filled my nostrils. “What?” “Um. Never mind.” “No, what is it?” “You ever thought about doing some?” “Steroids?” “Yeah.” I paused. I really hadn’t. “To be honest, no.” “I was just thinking about how you’d look…If you put on about 70 pounds of muscle…You’re 5’9? I could juice you up to 230, 240 pounds in a year or so… The way you’re built, you’d pack on mass so quickly…Fuck…James…Oh my god bro…” I’d never seen Frank’s dick get hard so fast. Flaccid to hard in three seconds. It flew up perpendicular to his grotesquely swollen quads. His eyes were a little crazy as he looked down at me, fantasizing and scheming. He was wheezing again. “Picture us both all roided out,” he said, stroking his cock. “Posted up in here sophomore year, getting bigger and bigger. Horny all the time. Eating, lifting and fucking nonstop… both of us putting on 5 pounds of muscle every week…Picture how fucking hot you’re gonna look. How hot we’ll both look..holy shit… oh my god dude…” He blew a load all over the carpet. One of the biggest I had ever seen. My mind reeled at the dream he had shared, at how much it had turned him on — and turned ME on. I was just 18, and Frank was such a fucking beast it had never before occurred to me I could be anything like him, not until that moment. Despite my many misgivings about steroids, he had convinced me. I was now under his thrall, obsessed with muscle growth at all costs. That was the night my bodybuilding journey began.

I absolutely loved the last chapter, and the thought of Hank growing even bigger and stronger is super hot. I just hope Kurt and Sam know what they're doing. Giving someone as entitled and arrogant as Hank the herbal milk could go badly. Plus, he's still taking his roids. Sounds like a dangerous, potent combo. I'm just throwing a little intrigue and thoughts to ponder out there while waiting for the next exciting installment. I absolutely love the story!

Loved this. It's very different from the Jim's Shot I wrote, but I like your variation on the theme. Thanks.

I walk through the party, past cousins and other relatives. I don’t really like family reunions, but I do love reminding everyone that I am the biggest in the family. I enjoy making my younger cousins I grew up with squirm. I push past the crowd and bump into one of my uncles I almost didn’t recognize. “Yo, Uncle Dave? How have you been? You look skinny!” I’ve only known my uncle as absolutely jacked. Rough and chiseled from working in construction for 30 years. His sleeves used to hug his biceps and his chest would never let his top buttons close. He was the one other person in the family who could almost size up to me. Now his shirt hangs loosely off his skinny shoulders. “Hey, Petey. Yeah, I lost some weight,” he sighed. “I gotta get you in the gym, Unc. Put some meat back on those bones. I’ll get you looking huge like me again in no time!” I snickered. I spread out my arms and curl my biceps. My thick muscles pack my shirt tight and my sleeves stretch around my girthy arms. I’ve always been a muscle head since I was a kid. I played football and started powerlifting at 13. I was a beast growing up and now I’m twice the size of anyone else in the family, especially now that Uncle Dave is skinny. Fuck, seeing how big I am compared to him now is feeding my ego well. “Of course, you’ll still be tiny compared to these veiny pythons! But it’ll be a start,” I laughed. “Speaking of, have you seen Slim and Tiny around anywhere? Need to find those twigs and put them in their place!” “Slim and Tin—? Oh... Go out and check the shed. I’m sure they’ll find you…” • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • I walk out into the backyard and make my way past the circles of cousins and uncles all chatting over some beers. In the back corner of the yard by the shed, there are stacks of 45 plates, a bench press, a squat rack, and even some cable rigs to make a rough prison yard gym. Bet those two nerds went all out to try and start working out. I need to go put those boys in their place and show them how a real man lifts! I flex my pecs in anticipation. From the shed, I hear deep grunts and metal plates clanging. Rep after rep, the grunts transform into barks. I turn the corner and my jaw and flex drop as I see what is inside the dark shed. An absolute behemoth of a man stands in a too-small stringer and leggings that squeeze the definition out of his massive quads and put his near-absent bulge on display. He carries a barbell at his chest and reps out more military presses. Three plates are stacked on either side of the bar. His monstrous delts ripple as he barks and lifts. On the bench against the wall sits another hulking beast hunched over with his haunches of forearms resting on his knees. He grunts out in a deep voice, calling out the rep count of his giant friend. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight… He turns and catches a look at me. “Well, shit… look who it is, Tiny!” he growls in a mocking tone. “Looks like little big-shot Petey decided to show up!” Tiny? No, that can’t be. And that would make him… Slim... No, these aren’t my cousins. They had to be actors hired to play a prank on me or something. These can’t be those same little nerds I used to tease back in high school. They’re too fucking big! Tiny drops the barbell to the mat with a clang and turns to face me with a smile. His veiny, pumped-up delts protrude off of his shoulders cartoonishly. His monstrous arms hang out to the sides with his meaty lats grown too big for his ribcage. He is a brick wall of muscle. “You know, I used to remember you were bigger, Pete,” Tiny grins. “Have you lost weight or something? You look skinny!” The two behemoths approach me and I can finally see the tight definition of their terrifying size in the sunlight. These two goliaths tower above me. Must be nearly 7’ feet tall. My eyes are level with their chiseled pecs that squeeze against the tanks they have so clearly outgrown. Slim flexes his pecs intimidatingly and his massive tits free themselves from beneath his tank as the fabric stretches and is squeezed between his pecs. His shirt rides up and reveals his chiseled Adonis belt and I see the thick bulge threatening to fall out from his shorts. “No… no, this isn’t right,” I stammer as I step back from these two behemoths. “Where are my actual little cousins? You’ve got to be fucking with me…” “We’re right here, Petey…” Tiny grins as he approaches and wraps his arms over my shoulders. “We got pretty big, huh, Tiny?” Slim groans with another flex. “Oh, bigger than that… You see Pete, we got tired of ego-fueled meatheads like you walking all over us. Calling us small and weak and pathetic…” “And so we decided to grow… and grow…” “Oh, we fucking grew…” Tiny flexes and crushes my neck between his forearm and chiseled bicep. “Now we’re fucking giants and it’s all thanks to cocky gym rats like you,” Slim pokes into my sternum and pushes me back. “No, this can’t be…” I feel powerless. “What are you gonna do to me? “Hey, Ma! Come take a picture of us and Petey!” Slim roars out across the yard, avoiding my question. “Yeah, we want you to remember how big you used to be before we drain you…” Tiny growls in a whisper. I gulp and try to think of a way out of here. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • After getting a picture, it’s just the three of us again all sitting on the bench in the shed with the two of them crushing me between their massive shoulders. The smell of their musk is overwhelming as they wrap their arms around me and squeeze me between their lats. Their ripe stench stuffs my nose full and for some reason my dick twitches. The two titans stand up, carrying me with them, and pin me into a tight circle between them. Slim looks down and sees my dick jumping against my will. “Oh, ho! Looky here…” Slim chuckles as he flicks my bulge. “Looks like the little man loves being crushed between two superior alphas!” “No wonder little Petey was in the gym all the time,” Tiny guffaws. I had truly never been attracted to men. The thought repulsed me. Even now, the stench of their ripe musk was sickening, but my penis throbs despite my opposition. Slim raises his arms and the wafting musk hits me like a wall. He crunches his thick, bullish abs and flares out his lats to put his pits on display. “Think it’s time for the pit crew!” Slim creaked a smile. Oh shit… Before I can react, Tiny grabs me and forces my face deep between Slim’s muscles and into his hairy pit. Same move I used to pull on them growing up. But fuck, my eyes roll back and I can’t help but moan out. Fuck, this isn’t right. Something about his scent is hypnotizing me. I can’t control my own dick. It twitches and hardens. I remember doing the same thing to Tiny and Slim growing up. I would sneak up behind them and call out for the pit crew before pulling them into a headlock under my arms. Kept them locked in to force them to huff my pit sweat until they squirmed under my superior arms and begged for me to let them go. Never wore deodorant to family gatherings just to really torture them. Fuck, I never expected them to ever get me back for it all. “I can feel his dick getting hard against my quads!” Slim lets out a belly laugh. Fuck, I am getting a boner. I can’t help it. I feel my dick growing and slipping between the muscle definition of his quads. So thick and hard pressed against my boner. Tiny keeps pushing me into Slim, forcing my dick to grind and press against his rock-solid muscle. I feel Slim flexing his quad on purpose to tease my erection. Fuck, I’m so hard… And then I feel something else press into me. A long, thick piece of meat squished against my abs. Oh, fuck… Is that his dick? It’s fucking massive too… I feel it press into my belly button and hang down next to the base of my shaft. It’s still only soft too… What fucking happened to him? “God, he’s so fucking horny! Look! He’s still huffing my pits!” Slim laughs. I didn’t even realize that Tiny had stopped holding my face into it. His pits were a fucking trap I couldn’t pull my nose out of. Fuck, I don’t know if I even wanted to. “Think this little guy is gonna cum off my alpha musk alone, Tiny!” Slim teases. “All right Slim, you’ve had your fun,” Tiny sighs as he let go of me. “I’m hungry and I want to feed while he’s still got those extra inches…” Fuck, what are they going to do to me? Slim grabs the back of my head and pulls me out from his armpit. He cricks my neck back and forces me to look up at him. He just smiles and looks down to scan my physique. There is a hunger in his stare. “Y’know what, I think little Petey has grown a bit since we last saw him,” Slim chuckles. “Not like us muscle freaks,” he flexes, “but I see some extra size on those biceps now. Check him out, Tiny!” I can’t tell if they’re still fucking with me. “Why don’t you flex for us, Pete?” Tiny asks in a stern tone. I step back, but Slim blocks me with his massive body. “Tiny gave you a command, Petey…” I take a heavy breath and follow their orders. I raise my right arm and curl my bicep. My peak pops out and my veins pump. I felt more than satisfied with my muscle and size just a few minutes ago, but now as I stand here beneath my two younger cousins with a boner I can’t control, I feel so weak and small. “Look at that peak! There’s some good meat there,” Tiny smiles. I bring up my other arm and curl it as well. I puff up my chest and flare out my lats to make myself as big as possible, but I know it’s useless. I’m puny compared to them. My cock throbs harder as I flex my muscles like a toy for these two behemoths. “Definitely some good meat…” Slim laughs slowly. Slim steps closer as I hold my flex. He wraps his hand over my bicep, holding my entire peak in his palm. He runs his thumb into the valleys of my muscles and works his thumb into the meat of my arm. He’s so strong… I feel my bicep grow numb as he gropes my muscle. “Oh, yeah… This’ll make me grow nice and big…” What the fuck did he say? Oh, shit… Fuck, my muscles are twitching and flexing compulsively. My bicep aches. And then I turn and see what’s happening. My arm is shrinking! Oh, fuck… my arm deflates with all its muscle mass, looking tiny compared to the rest of my body as Slim keeps groping and squeezing the muscle from my bicep. I look up to Slim with fear in my eyes as he drains me. Slim only chuckles under his breath. Then he begins to grow. His thick chiseled arm throbs even bigger, growing muscle in waves. As my biceps shrink, his swell bigger and bigger. Fuck, his arm is getting so huge… It expands faster and outsizes the rest of his body. Then he takes his other hand and does the same to my deteriorating bicep. He uses every ounce of muscle from my arm to grow two gorilla-huge arms that hang lankily compared to the rest of his body. My right arm is a twig hanging from my still-chiseled torso. It hangs as the drained husk of what once was a 19-inch python of an arm. And then I feel Tiny latch his hand around my left lat and squeeze the muscle up into my pit. “Don’t hog all the good meat, Slim,” Tiny teases. “There’s plenty of him to share.” Tiny squeezes the muscle from me. Stealing pound after pound of muscle from my back. My body shrinks and topples slightly as my balance is thrown off by the mass being stolen from me. My pecs feel too heavy hanging from my chest now. All my mass flows into Tiny’s back and his lats stretch wider with every pulse. He lets out a deep groan and growls as he expands. His lats push his arms further out from his body as they swell. He throbs bigger and bigger until I can hardly see around him. His little tank top stretches and begins to tear as he outgrows it with the muscle he takes from me. Tiny moans in pleasure as his body expands and his shirt is torn to shreds that fall from his chest. His bare torso is chiseled with pure muscle that churns as he steals my mass. Waves of size ripple up his lats and visibly surge with more and more muscle. “Ohh, fuuckk yeahhh… Make me fucking grow, Petey,” Tiny whines. “God, I’m getting so fucking huge!” My two cousins continue to grope and use my muscles to grow. They play with me and steal my size in no particular order, leaving me an asymmetrical mess of muscle as they moan and grow happily. A quad here. A pec there. Taking and taking to fuel their insatiable lust for growth. They stack bigger and bigger above me as I fall more and more powerless to their whims. My clothes drape over my shrinking frame as they take and take. “Oh yeah, this is even better than draining Uncle Dave,” Slim huffs. “It felt so good to finally be bigger than him so we could drain that old man of all that useless muscle. Got fucking huge off of him.” “But Pete has that thick and defined muscle, little body fat, perfect for fucking growing…” Tiny growls. “Oh fuck, look at us… We’re getting so much fucking bigger off him alone.” The two behemoths stretch bigger and bigger, outgrowing everything. Their muscles surge with seemingly endless mass. Slim’s tank begins to tear as his stomach inflates into a gut of pure muscle. He chuckles and flexes his pecs proudly and his shirt is torn apart by his swelling chest. Tiny’s quads pump and swell asymmetrically, practically fighting for dominance as his legs are crushed together by their size. His leggings stretch across his quads and eventually begin to rip. Tears spread across his legs and reveal the throbbing muscle beneath. The elastic of the waistband finally gives and there’s a loud crack as his leggings explode and he’s stood naked above me. His cock throbs, but even hard it barely pushes out past his surging quads and muscle gut. It looks tiny in comparison to his powerful muscles. Slim’s ass expands and overwhelms his shorts much quicker. The fabric tears and falls to reveal much more. As the shorts fall, Slim’s cock unfurls from its hiding spot and swings down his legs. It’s fucking monstrous. 13 inches of veiny cock hangs lazily. And then it starts to grow… It inches bigger as the veins throb. Slim lets out a deep rumbling growl as his cock expands further and further down. He humps forward and makes it rock up and swing under its immense weight. It surges faster. 17 inches. 20 inches. It throbs and bounces on its own, drooling out a thick stream of precum as Slim moans in deep pleasure. His cock grows massive to match his pulsing muscles in contrast to Tiny’s little dick which is dwarfed by his muscles. They tower bigger and bigger above me. Naked behemoths with surging mass. They both hit the ceiling as I shrink down below their hips. Slim’s gargantuan cock hangs in front of my face, drooling like a hungry animal. My clothes drape off my shrunken body. “Fuck…” I mutter under my breath. “I’m fucking puny…” Then Slim grabs me around my entire waist and lifts me off the ground. He brings me closer to eye level with them as they hunch to fit inside the shed. They must be fucking 9’ feet tall… They are fucking freaks of muscle mass. Meanwhile, I’ve been shrunk down to barely 4’ feet of skin and bones. “Puny?!” Slim laughs. “Oh, I fucking love that!” He shakes me in his hand and my shorts fall off of me and down to the ground. My cock springs out, rock hard. My 9” inch dick hangs down in front of me. I had always been proud that my cock was big to match my naturally muscular frame. Now it looks freakishly oversized hanging from my now scrawny frame. It throbs against my will and swings itself between my knees. I’ve always wanted a bigger cock to outsize my build, but not like this. Fuck, it’s too big for my weak body… It feels too heavy swinging from my waist. I can feel it weighing down and pulling my skin tight. My cock is too fucking big… “Hey, Tim,” Slim smirks. “Looks like Puny here has got some last extra meat for you to take!” “About time,” Tim chuckles. “You always take the dicks first, Slater.” Tim takes my throbbing dick in his hand and squishes the shaft. He lifts it up from where it hangs and it feels like a huge relief. Even my 9” cock barely fills his giant hand. It’s so sensitive that even just his crushing grip makes my cock spit up precum. I can’t hold back my moans. My dick spits precum and throbs as he takes my inches from me. Precum pools into his hand as my cock shrinks into his fist. My vision goes blurry from the stimulation, but I can see Tim’s cock expanding. Pushing longer and fatter from behind his muscle gut. It throbs bigger and bigger, hitting double digits as he groans from the growth. It surges and throbs with more girth. It keeps swelling thicker and thicker. Inches pack onto his pulsing cock. Tim moans and laughs as he throbs. He’s growing so big from my cock… “Oh… fuck yes!” Tim groans. “Oh, yeah… my cock is getting so heavy… fuuckk… more!” My dick shrinks until he is just barely holding it between his giant thumb and forefinger. It feels like such a relief to have all that extra weight taken off of me. He rubs my puny cock between his fingers and I can’t take it anymore. I try to hold back my moans, but it’s useless. I whine and moan and beg to cum. My cock spasms between his fingers. Tim smiles and slides his hand under my taint and uses his middle finger to push into my hole. My cock throbs happily. I didn’t think having my ass penetrated could feel so good… My dick looks like a tic tac in his giant palm. It flexes against my will and then it starts to squirt. Shooting my load into his hand as it bounces around. I moan and heave to try and catch my breath from my orgasm. My cock spurts its load across his palm and starts to pool in the middle. My exhausted penis hangs over my balls as the last bit of cum spills out. Tim just chuckles under his breath as he brings his palm up to his mouth. With one lick, what felt like a huge load was slurped up with ease by his giant tongue. With my head starting to clear, I could now see the monster cock he used me to create. It was thick and veins pulsed all along the shaft. The head throbbed to size up to his overwhelming girth. Thick beads of precum oozed down his tip. Then another surge of growth shot up his cock like an aftershock. My cum was giving him even more size! I watched his girth throb bigger and stretch his skin tight. It pulsed past 14” inches and shot up to 19” in just three big spurts of growth. Tim moaned and his cock just began pouring precum. It spasmed on its own and slowly the precum grew milky. “Get ready, Puny,” Slater laughed as he placed me back onto the ground. “Agh, fuuck…” Tim roared. His surging cock jumps and shoots out a thick jet of cum that splatters across my body and onto the wall behind me. His creamy white cum paints my naked body. His cock continues to erupt hands-free. His cock bounces with each shot and swings back and forth on its own accord. Long white ropes spurt over and over as he climaxes. The overwhelming sensation of growth forced him to erupt without warning. The cumshots slow down, but his dick remains rock hard. It continues to ooze precum as it hangs above me. I stand in the aftermath of his orgasm and look up at the two behemoth cocks looming above me and the brutes connected to them. Tim and Slater face each other and their dicks press together. I thought Tim’s 19-inch dick was enormous, but now it was dwarfed beneath Slater’s hulking 27-inch beast of a cock. Slater’s dick was as thick as his arm and just as veiny with his foreskin spilling out precum as well. I stare in awe at their size. I fantasize about how it must feel to be that fucking huge. It must feel fucking amazing to be so big and powerful. I grab my puny 2-inch cock between my fingers and stroke my cock. They are gods above me. I don’t know what I want to do, but I know I wanted their size. Slater looks down and sees me touching myself. “Nuh-uh, Puny,” he smiles. “You won’t be needing that anymore.” He bends down and pinches my dick between his fingers. He groans as his dick pulses once and expands slightly from the last bit of my cock. He releases and flicks my precum off his finger. And my dick is gone. All my inches, all my muscles, my height, everything has been taken from me. I was nothing and they were gods. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • They poke me out of the shed with my clothes draped across my body and send me back to the party with my new size while they enjoy theirs. “Wow, they really got you, huh, kid?” Uncle David says as he approaches me. “Yeah…” I sigh. “They’re fucking massive now.” “They did the same thing to me last month. I’m only just now starting to get some muscle mass back.” “I don’t think anything is going to be able to stop them now.” “They won’t stop until… fuck, I don’t think they’ll ever stop.” And then the shed begins to bulge and crack and collapse as Slater breaks through the ceiling.

Can’t wait for chapter 2

As did I!

POP Part 4 [Thanks for your comments, friends. This chapter is very dark, but I’m eschewing content warnings to avoid spoilers. Think of it as a gay muscle Quentin Tarantino movie.] “Open up, armed police!” Detective Steve Carnitas yelled on the second-floor balcony of the seedy motel. Without waiting for a response, Detective Jonah Brick smashed the door in with a splintering kick. Carnitas covered his new partner while he leapt into the room with his Glock raised. A blond, enormous Double-DBag bodybuilder fell over a coffee table as he backed away in fright, glass smashing. The smaller, powerfully muscled perp with the chest tattoo paused only a moment before making a dash for the back door of the suite. “Runner!” “My specialty,” Brick said, and sprinted after the perp, crossing the front room in barely two strides. Carnitas gave the room a quick 360, noting the web camera, lights and laptop, then warned the dazed blond to stay put before following Brick through to the back. He found him gripping the railing of the back fire escape, triceps bulging as he peered down at the ground, where the perp was hopping the back fence. “He’s getting away!” Carnitas fumed. “Calm your tits, bro,” said Brick. Holstering his weapon, he jumped onto the railing with the agility of a cat, his iron thighs coiling like springs. A second later he leapt, flying over the fence like he had wings. He landed square on the perp in the neighboring parking lot, slamming him into the gravel. “Watch out, Brick he’s still dangerou—“ WHUD WHUD WHUD WHUD WHUD WHUD Brick’s muscled arms were a blur as he pounded six fists into the perps face. His body convulsed under the force of the blows and then laid still. “Huh.” Carnitas made his way back to the front room, where the six foot two, 350 lbs blond meathead was just getting to his feet. “It’s okay, you’re safe now, we got ‘im.” WHAMMO! Carnitas’ nose flattened under brass knuckles and he was knocked to the floor. “Mother. FUCKER!!” he swore. Blood streamed onto the cheap carpet as he got to all fours. The blond was already out the door. Steve got to his feet, shook his head once, and then barreled after him. On the front balcony he caught sight of the blond, already down the stairs, racing toward a black Chevy Silverado parked at the far end of the motel parking lot. “Freeze, asshole!” he bellowed, aiming his gun, but the man kept running. “Damn it!” Steve descended the stairs two at a time and then jumped halfway down into a running start, his size 18 police boots carving divots in the blacktop as he propelled his 450 lbs of muscle after the victim-turned-perp. The blond reached the truck and stuffed himself into the cab, but fumbled the keys with his right hand still in the knuckle-duster. Steve roared and his pants split over his 26” calves as he accelerated his sprint, charging the truck like a vengeful bull. The blond turned over the engine just as the huge detective slammed into the passenger side. His meteoric momentum cratered half the cab, and the meathead punk was buffeted by airbags as Steve ignored the pain in his shoulder and crossed in front of the disabled truck. His great, heaving breaths sprayed blood on the cracked windshield as he stared daggers at the erstwhile driver. “I give up! I give up!” the punk lied, promptly plowing another metallic fist into Steve’s eye as he approached the window. The blow knocked him back several steps, and volcanic rage bubbled up like lava from his thumping chest, adrenalizing his huge muscles. He took a hop-step forward and then jumped three feet in the air, landing an elbow drop on the cab that crushed it flat. The front tires detonated simultaneously with an explosive bang. “Fuck.” Carnitas slumped against the wreck, gulping breaths, his horse-sized heart racing from the unexpected cardio. He blew bubbles of blood out his nose, trying to control his respiration as two patrol cars screeched into the parking lot, coughing out Flint, Hamm and a couple of uniforms. Hamm took one look at Steve and hustled over with a first-aid kit. “Jeez, Carny, you’re bleeding like a rare steak at Ponderosa.” He slapped gauze pads on gashes on his left delt and right tricep and applied pressure. “You should see the other guy.” Steve’s voice was a kazoo as he tilted his head up and held his nose. “Help, I’m trapped!” piped up the muscle-punk from under the crushed metal. Lieutenant Marcus Flint’s muscular chestnut arms were bare, like his team’s backup call had caught him in the middle of his end-of-day workout. With a powerful yank he ripped off the mangled passenger-side door and peered in at the perp, his shoulders pinned to his knees by the caved-in roof. “What are you complaining about, boy? You get to suck your own dick while you’re down there.” Detective Brick approached with the other perp, holding him upside down by his ankles. Steve noted the perp’s physique looked much less impressive this close; his legs were skinnier than Brick’s brawny arms. “Okay, boys, make a wish!” Brick yanked the legs apart like a wishbone and the perp howled as something snapped in his pelvis. Urine streamed down his abs, streaking away parts of the “GONNA POP U BITCH” tattoo as Brick dumped him on his head. “Make up. Huh.” Steve groaned. “My bad, guys,” Hamm said sheepishly. “More cosplayers. Thought it was a good lead.” The piss-stained perp rolled onto his knees and wheezed: “Police brutality! I’m gonna sue!” Flint backhanded the punk so hard his head bounced off the asphalt, knocking him unconscious. “No one was talking to you, bitch,” he growled. “Goddamn it, when did perps get so spineless? In my days as a beat cop, they’d take their lumps like men.” “Preach, boss,” Brick agreed, his veiny biceps and triceps bulging as he ripped off his bulletproof vest and slung it over his shoulder. He patted the rippled abs visible through his gray police t-shirt. “But I’m fucking starving, can we eat while we debrief?” Steve raised his free hand. “Yes, please.” “I know just the place,” said Hamm. *** “Cosplayers my ass,” said Carnitas. “You ever see a ComicCon where the nerds walk around with brass knuckles? Those jerks were mob.” He destroyed half a chicken sandwich in one bite. “Fuck me that’s good,” he groaned. The four big policemen were crammed into a booth meant for six at Bad Brad’s Diner, Detective Tyler Hamm’s favorite place for after-hours grub. The 5’10” 300 lb musclebear brandished the bone of a turkey drumstick he’d just devoured like a chicken wing. “Makes sense. With all the dough the perp is making off the snuff vid. I could see ‘em wanting a piece of the action.” “Do we need to worry about real copycats?” asked Brick, licking the juice from his fingers after inhaling a 20 oz rib eye. “Maybe,” Steve talked around his next mouthful. “But I’m more concerned about our perp’s next victim. He promised us there’d be one.” He swallowed, wincing slightly from the pain of his busted nose. Lieutenant Flint reached crosswise across the table with his powerful arm and cradled Steve’s chin in his calloused brown hand. He turned his subordinate’s head to get a better look at his injuries. “You sure we shouldn’t have let the paramedics take you, son?” Steve smiled, his dick plumping at his virile mentor’s touch. “I’m right where I want to be, sir.” Brick reached around his thick traps and squeezed his delt. “You’re tougher than I took you for, bro.” “Total stud,” Hamm agreed, rubbing Steve’s forearm. Their waiter, a cute chubby musclecub, dropped off a tray piled with more food and a round of beers. “You guys are such a hot polycule. Let me know if you’re looking for a fifth. I’m game. And drinks are on me.” Flint raised an eyebrow as the youth sashayed back to the kitchen. “What’s a fucking polycule?” “You bring us to some kind of queer diner, Ham and Cheese?” said Brick. Hamm shrugged. “What can I say? They got great food, and ass for dessert.” He reached for a beer but Flint slapped away his hand. “After-work drinks are for after work, son.” “Fine, ‘Dad’.” “Where we at on the sex assault angle, Brick?” “Both Tinker and Crust were bred by the perp in the mouth and ass. Dr Stain confirms that the semen contained cuntofil, this new boner drug Steve got from his contact. And Stain also confirmed the obvious after sending away for special testing: both vics were on athenabol.” Steve continued: “Stain didn’t have much to say just yet about my theory that an interaction between Piledriver and Double-DBol made the vic’s muscles vulnerable somehow to poppin’. But he’ll look into it.” “Hmm.” Flint folded half a chicken breast in a waffle, and dipped it in gravy. He chewed thoughtfully. “And the suicide-by-pop angle?” “Crust wasn’t in much shape to be properly interviewed,” said Steve, “and the Bedlam shrinks didn’t allow us much time with him.” “But Tinker’s shrink released his file, under court order, and there’s some juicy bits there.” Brick flipped open his police notebook. “Longstanding depression and muscle dysmorphia, recently had a relapse following an incident at work at the supplement store. Got shown up by a new co-worker, smaller guy into the Steamroller exercise cult. Crushed him in armwrestling in front of his meathead friends. Dude was off work after that.” “That guy sounds like a real jerk. Could he be our perp?” Steve asked Hamm. “Still trying to get employment records from the store manager, but expect them this evening at the end of his shift. I’ll text you later if they come in.” Flint sat back, letting out a satisfied grunt and rubbing his belly as he checked his watch. “Speaking of Steamroller, we’re due for a check-in with the fifth of our poly-whatsit.” “And look at that, he’s right on time for once in his life.” Hamm’s phone lit up with a contact photo of spread buttcheeks covered in downy blond fuzz, with a pale pink pucker. ‘My Asshole Partner’’ was superimposed above the image in white font. “What the fuck, Tyler?” “Bit of an in-joke, boss. But that’s really him, if you care to know,” said Hamm. “I really, really didn’t. Answer the damn call.” Hamm balanced his phone on the napkin holder and the four men leaned in to see Garrett Shaw’s face appear on the screen. In the background was the coppery brush of a pine forest floor. “How goes the undercover mission, Detective?” “Hey boss-man, you out on the town with these losers? Sorry to say, you ain’t gonna pick up any chicks hanging out with faggots.” “I’m married, Shaw. And watch your fucking language.” “I’m not gay,” Brick protested. “Won’t be long, New Meat, no one can resist Stevie’s seductive charms for long.” “Focus, Shaw, report.” “Alright, alright.” He pulled the camera back to show he was surrounded by trees. “Had to hide my phone way out here. No tech allowed at Camp Steamroller. Real Iron John shit.” “Any sign of the perp?” Carnitas asked. “Hey Stevie! Blocking with your face again? I thought we talked about this?” “Garrett…” “No man, no sign of that tatt, and since all the invitees to this retreat are required to walk around in these Tarzan loincloths, I got more than an eyeful of all the participants.” “Damn it,” Flint fumed. “Well get your ass back here then, and we’ll work on the other leads.” “Not so fast, boss, it hasn’t been a total loss. The tattoo shop confirmed they did the ‘pop’ tatt for a dude last name Stark, and that’s the name of the Head Hippy here, a longhair named Calvin Stark. He doesn’t have any tatts and he’s too old to be the perp, but he’s got two sons, neither of whom are here.” “Okay, can you get close to this honcho? Find out more?” “Unlikely. He leads the occasional meditation session, but otherwise keeps to a tightly controlled inner camp. But, I did find out one juicy bit of gossip about him. He’s a former Double-DBag, and he takes a special interest in converting DBags to the cause. So I was thinking…” As Shaw paused, all eyes at the table swung in Carnitas’ direction. “What the hell, guys? No way.” He flushed crimson. “It would completely be your choice, Steve. I’m not gonna order you,” said Flint. “And I don’t need to know anything about your personal life that you don’t want to share. God knows there’s enough oversharing in this group.” “I appreciate that, boss, but it’s still a no. Garrett joined Steamroller before the murder, he still makes the most sense to be undercover with them.” “That’s settled, then. Anything else to note, Shaw?” “Just this, fellas: This shit really works. You remember my head scissors, Hammy?” “Yes. And I don’t want to talk about it.” “Well watch this.” Shaw flipped the camera to show he had his bare muscular legs wrapped around a tree trunk, and had been suspending his ripped body horizontally during the whole conversation. “Used to do these static hanging crunches on my heavy bag, thought I’d try ‘em on the closest thing. I know it’s hard for you ladies to pull your eyes away from my abs, but check out the quads.” The muscles flexed into banded steel and the bark underneath was instantly pulverized. Shaw let out a rumbly growl and his quads hacked deeper, pale splinters erupting where the wood was displaced by harder muscle. In seconds Shaw’s thigh-grip had gnawed half the tree away. “Just the corewood left,” he grunted, “gonna lock my ankles now.” “Shaw,” Flint said curtly, “have you ever cut down a tree? You gotta be careful which way it falls—” KRAKKKKK! “That’s right tree-bitch, take that—OH SHIT—“ The camera tumbled to the dirt and went dead. Flint hung his head in disbelief. “I really hope it fell on his stupid head,” said Brick. “You can’t kill that dude. He’s like a cockroach,” said Hamm. Flint fumed. “What’s the first rule of undercover work? Don’t draw attention to yourself. Damnit.” “Please, boss,” Carnitas begged, his head throbbing, “can we drink now?” “Fine, I’ll leave you boys to it. I got a workout to finish.” *** Steve stumbled as he climbed the front steps of his walk-up apartment building. “Straight to bed, big guy,” Jonah Brick yelled from his Camaro before peeling off into the night. Steve got out his keys just as a PING sounded on his WhatsApp: <Tyler Hamm has renamed the group chat to: What’s a Fucking Polycule?> Hey studs, employment records from Tinker’s manager came in. Enjoy some bedtime reading. Steve opened the pdf and squinted, focussing on the hire dates. He nearly dropped the phone when he saw the name of the late Peter Tinker’s most recent co-worker. “THAT goddamn motherfucker?!” *** Carnitas barged in the door the moment it opened, the chain lock snapping, no match for his 450 lbs of bulk. “What the fuck, man! YOU!!” The surprised occupant, barefoot and clad in a loose t-shirt and sweats, backed away, hands up, as the huge detective advanced into the apartment, gun drawn. “Vinny fucking Crisco, you goddamn weasel. What bleeding-heart parole board let a shitstain like you back on the streets?” “You’re fucking nuts, Carnitas. I did my time. You got no cause to be busting in here.” “We’ll see about that. Back all the way up.” The small dark-haired man complied, with a calm backward stroll, all while his jet-black eyes burned with hatred. Carnitas’ gaze darted about the small bachelor space, confirming they were alone. There were some carpentry tools in one corner, and some newly installed drywall, but no guns or knives obvious. “Now a little bird told me,” he said, “that you’d gone and got yourself a job at a sports nutrition store. But I said to myself, that can’t be true. Pencil-necked Vinny Crisco? He wouldn’t know a sport, or a nutrient, if it bit him on his bony ass.” “What’s it to you, fatboy?” He gestured to the cop’s face. “You lose a fight, and go looking for the smallest ex-con you know to rough up?” “You always were a little shit, Vinny. Felt so good to put your ass away. But we’re gonna have a little talk.” “Felt good did it? Not as good as you hoped, though right? I didn’t give up my brothers, so all you got was me. That still stick in your craw, birdbrain? Your big mob case, years of work, and all you bagged was a low level thug? A big flop like that, could rattle a guy, make him insecure.” “Shut up, asshole.” “Make up your mind, dumbass. Should I talk or shut up? I really do got you rattled, huh? Why else would you need a gun for this little chat? You’re three times my size, bro.” Carnitas stomach turned as his confidence faltered. He’d underestimated Vinny Crisco once before, and he had an instinct that he was repeating himself. He was alone, no back up, no warrant, drunk and with a probable concussion, facing a cunning ex-mob enforcer. He couldn’t be the murderer, his complexion was too dark and he was whippet-lean. But something was very wrong. Steve felt in his bones that if he made a single mistake, Vinny would get the upper hand. “Fuck you, dirtbag. Raise those hands higher.” Crisco smirked, but complied, and the motion of his arms raised the hem of his t-shirt exposing ripped lower abs, a dark treasure trail and the top of a hairy bush as thick as a Sicilian olive grove. Too late, Carnitas realized he’d stared a beat too long. When he looked up again, a claw hammer flung from across the room bashed him between the eyes. He dropped to the floor like a stone, holding his battered face in agony. When he opened his watering eyes he registered the frightful image of Crisco looking down on him with an evil sneer. “Fuck me? You dumb bitch, I got a much better idea.” Vinny brandished a muscular bare foot like it was a maul and swung it in a baleful arc, stomping Steve’s lights out. … … … “PSST. FAGGOT. WAKE UP.” Detective Carnitas opened his eyes to find the murderer’s face staring back at him. The details of the face were obscured by Peter Tinker’s blood and lumps of gore, except for a brilliant white sadistic grin of even teeth with wolfish canines. His eager pale blue eyes pinned Steve’s soul in place like a butterfly. “YOU’RE GETTING CLOSER, FAGGOT, MAYBE I’LL SEE YOU SOON.” One side of his face was pressed flush against a hardwood floor. Little streaks of red formed there as his head rocked back and forth in a repetitive motion. “BUT YOU SHOULD WAKE UP NOW, FAGGOT. YOU’RE BEING RAPED. YOU DON’T WANT TO MISS THAT. HUH-HUH-HUH.” The face faded away, replaced by Carnitas’ own battered visage. He lay prone and gagged on the floor staring sideways at himself in the bottom of a cheap dressing mirror propped against the wall. He took an inventory of his wounds. Busted nose. Black eye. Lacerated, bleeding brow. Torn upper lip and broken front teeth. A catalog of failures. But each was easier to contemplate than what was happening down below, beyond the view of the mirror, as Vinny Crisco jackhammered his ass to smithereens. Everything down there was agony, from the popped sphincters in his destroyed hole, to his pride-and-joy boulder glutes, bashed into gravel against harder muscle and bone, to his cock and balls, flattened under his own dead weight. Crisco gasped and groaned as he came like a geyser, his mallet-like fists pounding the cop’s thick traps flat like carpaccio. His rectum ballooned under the pressure of the massive load exploding out of the thug’s Piledriver-swollen cock, magnifying the intense pain of the brutal fucking. Vinny stood once his cum-fits had subsided, his softening cock shlooping out of the cavernous gape, and with a sharp kick to his side, flipped the detective onto his back. The Mafioso cackled with glee when he saw the mess on the floor. His pinpoint accurate battering of the cop’s prostate had forced blood-tinged cum from Steve’s perfidious dick. “Man, Carnitas, I knew you were a huge fag, but pink spunk? That's next level.” He straddled the cop’s limp body with lean legs as strong as girders, and reached down to pull out the gag, a gym sock so dirty it was nearly black. “Don’t need this, huh? I mean, it’s not like an enormous badass muscle-cop would scream for help like a little bitch, right?” Carnitas focussed his eyesight as a wave of nausea from his tortured bowel ebbed. The body that loomed over him was no Colossus. Crisco had the same bird-like bone structure he’d always had, and plainly weighed no more than 150 lbs. But that body had been honed on a Steamroller whetstone til it was keen as a dagger. Muscles braided like steel wire criss-crossed his torso and arms. His abs were so crisp they looked beveled like cut diamonds. And that sadistic cock. As Steve felt his bruised muscles swell tight, skin stretching from the effects of the Piledriver-laced splooge, Crisco’s penis re-inflated in sync, ‘til it was thicker than both of the thug’s lean forearms put together. “Ready for round two, faggot?” “Help!! He’s going to kill me!!” Steve bawled as Vinny compressed his bloated calves in his claw-like hands, stretch marks zigzagging the flesh as he raised his legs. The ropey muscles of his corded arms hauled up the massive shanks of meat with ease, like he had pulleys spinning in his joints. He lined his softball-sized cockhead up with Steve’s still-spasming gape, and sniggered at the cop’s pathetic mewling. “Man, he said this drug was the shit, but I didn’t believe him.” “Who’s… ‘he’?” “He also said Tinker-Toy popped like a balloon. Didn’t believe that either ‘til I saw the vid.” “WHO’S ‘HE’?!” Carnitas screamed. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he laughed. “Never thought I’d christen my new rape-pad with man-pussy, but your faggy high-pitched cries should test the soundproofing just as well as a bitch’s. Squeal as loud as you want, pig, this place is airtight.” “Not if you leave the door open.” Jonah Brick’s meaty hand clapped around the rapist’s neck. His thick fingers tightened around his throat like a hangman’s noose as he raised Crisco in the air, his feet kicking helplessly. “You got two seconds to give me a name,” Brick growled. He looked down on Steve’s swollen, broken form. “And I don’t even care if you answer.” “SSSSSSSSSSSSSStark—“ Vinny gasped, the gurgled word cut off abruptly by Brick shattering his larynx with his fingertips. The belly of his forearm bulged with crushing strength as, red-faced with rage, he macerated tissue and ground vertebrae to dust. Digging his thumbnail into the pulped flesh at the base of the rapist’s skull, Jonah flicked, popping Vinny Crisco’s head off his neck like a bottlecap. … Steve’s leaden limbs collapsed the moment he crossed the threshold of his apartment. From the floor, he kicked the door shut with his foot. “Made it,” he mumbled, as if Brick could hear him. “You gotta leave now, Steve, under your own steam,” his partner had urged as he’d cut the zip tie bonds at his wrists. “I gotta take out the trash.” Somehow Steve had managed to pull his clothes onto his ravaged body and stand while Brick rolled Crisco’s body up in a Persian rug. As he’d turned for the door, Brick had grabbed his arm. “Hey. Remember one thing. This was not your fault.” “Bullshit,” Steve said now as he pressed himself up onto his elbows. Slowly, he dragged his beaten carcass toward the bathroom. Pulling himself to his feet, he lurched in, avoiding his bloody reflection in the mirror. He snatched up a small leather case. With a great, wracking sob, he turned it inside out, dumping his vials of athenabol into the toilet bowl. He sat heavily on the lid as the toilet flushed, and pulled out his phone, opening Garrett Shaw’s contact. Camp Steamroller, he texted, I’m in. To be continued…

Ch 1 - Hedlan’s Birthday Hedlan awoke once again to the sensational vibrations his pectorals were programmed to. He loved that smooth hum as he awoke from another blissful twelve hour recharge. It rippled across his toned body as his most evolved muscle, his brain, began to check the status of his beloved anatomy in nanoseconds. Before he could will his eyes to open, Hedlan’s mind had processed over twelve terabytes of data obtained from his recharge process. 79% regularity. 12% functionality innovation updates fully installed. 0.001% anatomical failure, corrected, error time - 23 nanoseconds. This was a meager blip, but Hedlan knew reporting this minor issue would reward him with another four thousand credits of nanowear innovations, the equivalent of a yearly bonus. The report continued: Experimental compatibility with temporary host unit: 83%. A 30% increase over the previous stand-in. Second interaction imperative for credit authorization. “Ah yes” Hedlan thought to himself privately. “Cindra… She *was* 83% compatible… Great, but still nothing compared to Toth, damn… When is Toth going to recover? What day is it…” Nanoseconds later, the report finished with one final note for the day: “The Time is Seven hundred hours, November 93rd in the year 99,220,220. And in addition, it is your 2016th birthday.” “Hmm…. Is it?” Purred the blonde bombshell resting upon Hedlan’s massive chest. Hedlan chuckled. “I suppose it is. My my how time flies.” Cindra’s eye glowed slightly as she received her own update. “Damn… Structural integrity only recovered 49%...” “Oof. I am off my game. A slender… What? Type 15 build, even with augments shouldn’t have recovered 55%.” Hedlan replied. Cindra rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Typical Exp-cyb… Try type 26 Essex class.” “Essex class? No fucking way. Guess I’m still kicking.” “Fuck…. Haven’t been pushed like that sense I was walking around with a bimb-type 21:” Cindra teased as she telepathically transmitted an old picture of herself. “Mmm. Don’t make em like they used too huh.” Hedlan teased. “While the fuckbags were even better than your super-mind can imagine, the structural integrity couldn’t keep up with newer models…. like YOUR experimentally sexy ass… Sometimes you gotta sacrifice beauty so you don’t wake up four weeks after having your brain force fucked out your skull… “I know, why do you think the Hive paired your. *Licks lips* Structurally stable body with me?” “Mmm… I don’t know. Terrible decision, I’m not even going to break even with the structural reports I’ve made…” “Firmware says we got one last interaction to authorize the transaction.” “Did it now? Hmm… Well what a shame… I really was looking forward to the three moons festival this friday…. But fuck it, there’s always next decade.” Ch 2 - Extremely Optimized Cindra was a somewhat out of date model, roughly two years without a proper upgrade. Still her luxury essex class selection allowed her to be paired with Hedlan as the best substitute candidate for him to… Interact with. Hedlan, is a top-of-the-line body builder. He updates himself nightly to optimize his body in every way he, or rather, the Bioware corporation, can. Huge teams of dedicated employees working around the cock…er.. Clock to improve every function in Hedlan’s body, down to a cellular level. To make it in the Bioware industry in these times, you need massive augmentations daily just to compete. Each day, Hedlan compresses his body down overnight to install and re-charge every last cell in his body. When he awakes he is roughly 7’3” tall, the shortest he’ll be all day. His skeleton is constantly secreting a variety of chemicals to encourage muscular growth, and inconsistently expands at a rate of roughly 2.5 inches each hour to handle the increase in mass he accumulates. Each muscle group is continuously charged and exercised on their own. This was at first thought to be the main limitation to muscular acceleration. That is, until the innovation of Sexual Interaction Boosting. More effective than steroids, a chemical called “Lib-300” was a passive chemical generated in a host body. On its own it has numerous, well perhaps not negative but certainly undesired traits when it came to body building. It would encourage massive fat deposits until the compound matured. Afterwhich, if ingested fresh, it would supercharge a foreign secondary host with a compatible catalyst muscular system(cy-ms), causing their muscular ability to balloon at nearly exponential rates while not compromising the cardiovascular, neural, or cybernetic enhancements. The practical upshot of this was Sexual Interaction Boosting, in which a typically female candidate would produce Lib-300 in excess, specifically at key anatomical areas of their body during periods of heightened stimulation: The glutes, the thighs, and each breast. From there, sexual interaction would act as a sort of super-juiced workout for the typically male partner, who would receive the chemical through special receptors on the tongue for the upper half of the body, the genitals for the lower half, and in addition, the skin as well, which while not as effective, would end up absorbing roughly 32% of excess Lib-300 excreted by the partner. In Hedlan’s line of work, not a drop is to be wasted. The Lib-300 lasts for mere seconds, but when it interacts with the body in large quantities, it can promote muscular growth for hours, so as to continuously supply the host with the euphoric feeling of becoming stronger, which is simply more errotic and desirable than perhaps any other sensation Hedlan experienced in his two thousand plus years of existence. Many scientists have theorized this euphoria is the key to Hedlan’s success. Each partner is continuously being updated and evaluated on ways to improve the interaction process. For instance, Cindra is equipped with magnetic gravity enhancement in her glutes and cervix. This allows her body to begin the process by filling air pockets with charged nitro-helium, making her lighter than a feather, and after a few minutes will force her into a state of extreme buoyancy that could potentially rocket her out of the atmosphere. Only by Hedlan gripping her with an extreme force of over 4.8 tons per-square-centimeter, can Cindra prevent her thighs from slamming against the ceiling. In addition, Cindra can fluctuate randomly, forcing Hedlan to adapt between needing to exert extreme force downwards, or mild force upwards. However, this is little challenge for Hedlan’s body, which after a mere forty minutes (roughly 3,000 reps per muscle group) of immaculate exercise for his torso, triceps, abdominals, and tongue is ready for stage two. In order to accelerate the growth process, a newer feature of Hedlan’s workout is the process of using a special chemical, stored in the left testicle, as a linking catalyst inside of Cindra’s esophagus. By coaxing the chemical out of Hedlan, Cindra can absorb charge from the chemical. This in turn drives every nerve cluster in Cindra’s body into overdrive and improves Lib-300 production by 300% (while simultaneously driving Cindra into a heightened state of madness in which every form of pleasure becomes more blissful by the moment, actively slowing down time from her perspective and eventually leaving her temporarily brain-dead). Even the air molecules moving through her toes can be felt if she is able to absorb a full stomach full. However, this is an increasingly difficult challenge as while the process is ongoing, Hedlan’s magnificent cock has expanded considerably, being not only the first part of his body exposed to the link, but also it’s main method of absorption for the moment. During phase one, the cock maintained almost no growth aside from the average erection, however, once stage two begins, Hedlan’s member begins to make up for lost time, expanding from his initial size of nine inches at a rate of 0.5 inches every minute, until the optimal size of 3 feet is reached. In the mean time, Cindra can’t allow herself to eject the cock, even to take a breath. This isn’t a choice, as I may remind you, her system is actively working in overdrive. This is why her lungs are equipped with methods of absorbing oxygen effectively without the use of her throat, and her throat is lined with titanium stabilizers to prevent… most damage. For the next hour and seven minutes, Cindra’s throat is brutally fucked by Hedlan’s monster cock. All the while, Hedlan has grown considerably. Before stage two, Hedlan was somewhat lopsided as a result of the recharge process, with a massive upper body build of over 300lbs of compressed muscle in each arm, in addition to 470lbs in the chest, abdominals, and other areas above his stomach. Totalling an impressive 1070lbs above the waist. While his legs were still massive, each one compressed down to 260lbs apiece, smaller than each arm. This is due to the “morning wood” effect, a humorous aspect of compression body-building which basically boils down to “Your legs can grow at a better rate than your upper body can after compression”. This is actually one of the least involved processes interactred with Hedlan’s cybernetic brain now frantically shifting the flow of Lib-300 to his ass to round his glutes out with extra layers of muscular perfection so as to support the rest of the transformation later. At which point, poor Cindra suffered a catastrophic failure of her esophageal support, forcing her to rip the now two foot cock from her gut as it filled with Hedlan’s emergency release of the chemical. This annoyed Hedlan somewhat, as while he knew Cindra would heal in a few days, the rate of Lib-300 production would be severely compromised at only 200% increase, if he was lucky. Never the less, he couldn’t let the past two hours go to waste, and spun Cindra around for phase three. In phase three, Cindra will be excreting massive amounts of Lib-300 from her breasts and vaginal walls, causing swelling. Meanwhile, every last drop of the delicious secretion is fueling Hedlan with a roided sense of power and immense growth rate as the beast would continue to swell greedily with power and determination as he squeezed and fucked every drop of the compound he could from what was left of Cindra as she entered a blissful coma of pleasure that would last for days. Inside, Hedlan felt like a machine, pumping and sucking in every way he could to trigger the maximum amount of reaction from Cindra. It’s one thing to obsessively pump your meat into your partner, its different when you’re doing it professionally. It wasn’t just lust, it was calculated. His mind burned at the number of calculations being done to control his tongue, while waiting ever so patiently to engage his cock again, which when flexed would stimulate a magnetic field absorbing and stimulating every micrometer of Cindra’s nether regions. Outside, Hedlan was pulsing larger and larger as he quickly grew past eight feet tall. His pectorals, while only a mere half-meter in width each, were now jetting a solid foot out from his body and weighed easily 400lbs apiece. Each commanded an arm the size of a baby cow, with the muscular complexity of a super-computer. Thousands upon thousands of micro-layers of muscle worked together to give Hedlan the power to crush mountains with a squeeze. His legs rose to the size of tree trunks, and his abdominals began production of a new matrix of blood vessels just to provide the space to add another row of rock hard chest stones. Despite the limitations of Cindra’s throat, her ass and genitals were more than capable of handling Hedlan’s rapidly expanding three foot monster cock as it evolved and matured to allow new methods of pleasure to reach Hedlan’s brain. After a mere thirty minutes however, poor Cindra had reached a critical state and could produce no more. As his growth slowed, Hedlan sighed. “Damn, used up and I’m only as good as a mark 90… Whatever.” He thought to himself. “I’m out of time. HIVE,” he stated addressing the globally shared hivemind system, “Ensure Cindra gets home in one peace, and in the meantime, I’ll need an emergency boost of Lib-300 from another host before work, otherwise those bastards at Muscle-Management will wipe the floor with us. “ Telepathically he ended the message and started to walk to work. As he got up Cindra awoke dazed, with her brain functioning at 30% capacity. “You’re going out without getting dressed?” Hedlan just smiled and said “Why?” imprinting the image of his supercharged chest into her brain as she passed out once again. Ch 3 - Going to work - As Hedlan stepped outside he felt the warm radiation of the sun kiss his skin. He never understood why but he loved the way light bounced off of him, particularly while he was still dripping in a thick layer of sex-based sweat and mutated biological compounds. In the breeze the salty wind of the ocean core beneath the floating platform sent the smell of fresh delicacies rising from the food pits below. Before Hedlan was a bodybuilder, he started off as a chef’s apprentice deep down by the shores, hardly ever feeling the sensation of sunlight. He left eventually to pursue his own passion, but as a child he understood why they’d stay down there, the taste of such food is sublime when it’s fresh, and it isn’t to be exchanged for any substitute. To do so would be a disservice, not just to the meal, but the craft itself. That’s what motivated Hedlan. Perfection and respect for his craft. Only to him, it wasn’t the milliseconds between flipping the grill, but the flow of blood and energy within his own complex body. Pressuring each layer of muscle until it fractured perfectly, and healing the organic pattern as quickly as possible, just to shatter it again. Like his own body was his own pottery and he was a master of Kintsugi. “I don’t understand these firewall inefficiencies” rang out a voice in Hedland’s mind. “I can’t be late for Armada practice again”. “I love the smell of fresh herbs blowing in the morning.” “I should surprise my lover at work today…” Hedlan lowered the volume of these voices as he approached the local gathering spot. Idle dribble isn’t what he was interested in overhearing from other people’s minds. However, as he stepped into view in front of the grassy clearing, a few turned heads and glances blared at the perfect volume inside his head: “Fuck, let me get some of that hunk.” “Fuck me, I haven’t felt aroused by a male in weeks…” “That beast… I wouldn’t last a minute with that monster… Maybe I should upgrade…” “Please. Please notice me. Please. I need it. I need to feel that hot god against my skin… I want to lick those muscles clean…” Hedlan grinned and produced a small nod at the thirsty woman giving that last open thought, whose face went red as she turned her thoughts back to private. As he continued walking across the soft dry grass, more and more thoughts like that massaged his ego until it matched his enormous proportions. In the open public of the Alpha Centauri Heart Planet it was common to see humanoid variants ranging in size from a meager three feet, to twenty foot goliaths twice the size of Hedlan, both clothed and baren depending on preference and occasion. However, towards the southern side of the coastal plateau, was the sinful Muscle Beach. A libidinous stretch of over three miles, where the thick crowd of muscular adonises would flair their bodies in conjunction with each other. From one end of the beach to another, was an endless swarm of mostly naked figures caressing and fawning over superior specimens. The air of this region was actually laced with a byproduct from the Lib-300 production factories below known as W-Tin-K, and while at first options were weighed to fix this issue, it soon proved to not only be difficult, but undesirable and counterproductive to the economy and tourism. W-Tin-K is a powerful hallucinogenic compound that’s quickly broken down by oxygen, its effects vary from subject to subject. Those who ingest this substance are filled with a harmonic lust towards the most powerful specimen in the area, where their minds are slowly corrupted by the euphoric sensation of licking and touching a specimen stronger than oneself. While this sounds concerning, over seven thousand years of research has gone into the study of W-Tin-K, and no concernable link between health and ingestion of W-Tin-K has been found. Survival on the beach is somewhat determined by one’s ability to handle W-Tin-K and perhaps more importantly: The ability to handle other people Jacked out of their minds on the chemical as well. While a few horny utopian citizens licking your legs up and down is fun, a body that isn’t built to handle the inner crowds of the area will be savagely ripped apart by dozens of lust-crazed beasts, appearance isn’t enough to survive, structure is even more vital. It’s for this reason that the southern beach was where Hedlan’s personal back-up for Lib-300 would be found, as any Lib-300 producing beast that could survive here would be able to take monsters ten times Hedlan’s current ability with no issue. The Hive directed Hedlan deeper and deeper into the crowd as the muscular quality and size of the men and women around him increased to match himself as more and more of those smaller than him began to delve deeper and deeper into acts of passion for their current master. Finally, Hedlan finally found who he was looking for. A young stud, merely nine hundred years old, his mind lost for days, perhaps even months, within his seemingly endless pursuit to be drowned in the cum of the gods he helped to build. His name was Levidicus. Hedlan glazed over him, his mind not even for a moment distracted by the other beasts in the distance larger or the pathetic simps clawing at his legs. Levidicus was a massive specimen just shy of Hedlan’s height at a staggering 8 foot 10”. All of it raw muscle, of course, he didn’t have the sensation of growing to such an expanse each day like Hedlan, rather Levidicus would start and end each day the same size. A thought Hedlan pitied him for. However, aside from that Levidicus was perfect. Estimated a 95% compatibility with himself. His pectorals glowing with Lib-300 as he was built to produce the chemical endlessly, however Hedlan didn’t have that kind of time. He needed to bring Levidicus to stage three quickly. However, without speaking a word, the Hive informed them both of the issue at hand. Levidicus was no object to be used. He was a savage animal that needed to be tamed. He wouldn’t give up his throne of power to bow to anyone, and if he would, Hedlan would have to prove he owned it. Both of them knew from the start, exactly who would rein supreme, but with a cocky grin, and a grip of his own python, Levidicus made it very clear he wasn’t going to make it easy. Once again, Hedlan started with stage 1. Thankfully, the various other members of the area had already begun the activation process, direct interaction was all that was necessary. So, Hedlan primed his tongue and gripped his adversary by the balls and began. “Ah… Oh fuck yes. Finally. A bitch who knows his place. MMMmmm. Damn straight… You suck that cock boy. You suck that fucking pole. You know who I am bitch… I’m your fucking daddy…. Don’t forget it. Half your age, but twice your worth. You hear that you god damn peasant. If you dare take your lips off that cock, I’ll flip you over and fill your ass with it too… I’m your god damn boss now, your fucking GOD. I demand this worship.” While Levidicus teased Hedlan about the process, Hedlan was not so prideful to feel even slightly inferior. He knew what was to come, and the threat of humiliation if he were to sneeze. If a sense of superiority helped Levidicus reach climax faster, good. It didn’t distract Hedlan from the thousands of micro-movements his mouth was performing any more than the gusts of hot sex-soaked wind swirling around them. It wasn’t until twenty-seven minutes in that Levidicus’ spirit began to falter. Annoyed, he tried every trick in his book to detach the link, which would have awarded him with a new hunk to toy with and tons of respect from the other studs he’d ride into the sunset. Increased musk, decreasing sensitivity, even lacing his spunk with a spicy flavor, but none of it deterred Hedlan from his objective. “Shit. Fuck. DAMN! Oh fuck tiger. Looks like I’m about to let the dam break. MMM! Good. I bet your sick fuck ass loves this part…Gah…. MMMMMMmmmm…… Get ready big boy… AND I HOPE THE REST OF YOU SLUTS ARE WATCHING, YOU’RE ABOUT TO SEE THE FUCKING MONSTER THIS DADDY CAN MAKE!” And with that Hedlan grinned a warm white cum-stained grin as the familiar feeling of growth reached his chest again. It was slow, but he knew it was there. Hedlan wasted no time. He spun Levidicus around and prepared to inject his own chemical in the most effective way possible for stage two. “WOah there baby. Be gentle now!” Leviticus begged through gritted teeth as Hedlan wasted no time pumping his swollen four foot cock deep into Leviticus’s perfect bouncy ass. “Ah… AH! FUck… THat… THAT ALL YOU GOT BITCH BOY!” Levidicus screamed as Hedlan’s fat member began to swell to even more inhuman proportions inside of him. “I CAN TAKE THIS ALL DAY!” “I’m sure you can Levi, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to speed this up…” Hedlan spoke softly into Levi’s ears. A small glance of fear appeared in Levidicus’s eyes as Hedlan directed all his growth to his genitals and flexed. “YOU FUCKING BITCH! OH THAT’S JUST NOT GAH! FAIR! OH… FUCK…” Hedlan gripped Levi’s firm yet shrinking tree-trunk like legs as he rammed his cock inside him for the final push. Like a bottle of champagne, Hedlan released the chemical into Levi’s body where it quickly began driving Levidicus to a new heightened level of pleasure and production as his internal organs were only just barely saved from decimation by a powerful pressurized burst from Hedlan’s expanding cock. As Levi’s mind began to succumb to the blur of pleasure and synapse limitations, he looked up to see the man who just minutes ago was almost his height, now towering above him at a menacing ten feet. “Now for the fun part.” Hedlan grinned evilly as the heat in Levi’s eyes changed from the fear of pain, to the lust of exhaustion, like a marathon runner getting high off his own endorphins. Levi’s body was glowing from the insane amount of liquid being forced to his surface. As his mind raced to process it all, he was discovering new ways to climax. His throat erupted with a sweet bile he’d never tasted, which Hedlan drank from his lips as he squeezed his body to it’s limit like a juice-box. While at first he figured his cock would be left disappointingly free, like so many others only interested in his Lib-300 production, Hedlan was a professional, and was actively using his matrix of expanding abdominal muscles to maintain Levi’s climactic state for longer than Levidicus had ever experienced with minor vibrations and flexes. His ass was expanding along with Hedlans, not due to any chemical reason, but because Hedlan’s thirsty cock was deep inside the source of what he could offer Hedlan, slurping and replacing as much of the material as he possibly could with each thrust. It was forced to expand to survive. All the while, Hedlan’s body was accelerating even more so than with Cindra. Ten foot. Eleven foot. Twelve foot. Soon, Hedlan’s massive Sixteen foot body was lifting Levi’s tiny 8-foot husk like a doll Levi looked up at the monster Hedlan had become, and all he could muster was “Damn daddy… You got game…”. The rest of the beach cheered in awe as they watched the man who walked into the beach a quarter of the size he was now, walk out like it was another day at the office with cum drizzling from his abs. For Hedlan, he was satisfied. Fifteen - five would have done fine, but sixteen would likely get him a raise. “Thinking of which, it’s likely about time I get to work…” he thought to himself. Part 4 - Actually getting to work Hedlan had a new spring in his step as he walked to work. He loved this part of the day, the calm before the storm. His body was practically new, as it was every day. The artificial nerves communicating everything within him were fresh, as were many of the ones in his brain. As part of the stage-3 process, a final enzyme is released from within Hedlan’s own body that actively adjusts his head and neck size. This is essential on a micro-level as the network of nerves throughout his body has more than doubled, and trying to get all that info into the same nerve system he woke up with would leave him paralyzed. On a macro-level, it also prevents him from looking ridiculous with a titan’s body and a normal head. A side effect of this exchange is that despite Hedlan making the same trip to work every day, every sight and observation feels fresh and new, like wondering into a new city every day. However despite this, Hedlan would often be too lost in his daily commute to make note of people beneath him, and would often crush one or two civilians by accident if he wasn’t watching. Thankfully for the victim they themselves are always equipped to survive such a devastating blast. *Yes blast, he’s 16 feet tall and over 2500lbs, he’s effectively wearing smart-cars as sneakers, just those directly underneath him aren’t the only ones affected. The civilians actually revel in this as failure to prepare for such an inconvenience will actually award them thousands in credits if they can prove this wasn’t of their own volition. Hedlan transmitted an apology without even changing his pace after crushing a local vendor and didn’t even process the “it’s fine” that was transmitted back as he’d become distracted by a mild inconvenience. “Huh… That’s right, i’m 16’ now, it takes slightly less time to commute… Oh well, can’t be helped. Guess I can just take an extra second to admire the view here.” The outside of the Bioware Cybernetics and Augmentations Delta building was massive to say the least. The doors, furniture, elevators, and even the flora are scaled up massively to accommodate their main products: Experimental giants. Dozens of massive hunks and hunkettes wander the halls as if they’re normal sized people in a normal office, making playful threats to one another about what they’re going to do to defeat each other in the gym later, chatting near massive water-towers filled with electrolyzed steroid fluids, meanwhile hundreds of normal sized people are speeding around the base like rats, performing busywork the gods they work on aren't going to do themselves. “DAMN Had-es!” A thunderous boom from behind almost started Hedlan. It was Byron, a rival product, and Hedlan’s best friend. “I mean you’ve been saying it’ll happen for centuries, but fuck it finally did! You’re finally bigger 16’ before work!” Byron was a rival, but they almost never competed as they were in different focuses. For centuries Byron was the golden-child mascot of muscle growth science. “Bithon-Byron Titan of Alpha Centauri” they called him on the ads. He was a titan among gods, and for years was the only one exposed to the Lib-300 experiment, giving him a massive 300-year lead over almost everyone else in the program. However, this also exposed him to the larger risks in the program, eventually culminating in the sad news his body wouldn’t be able to adapt to the newer sciences that Hedlan would prosper from, instead he now makes a living showing off clothes for the massives. None the less, Byron was a mind-shattering 35 foot tall deity each day he walked into work, a sight that both horrified Hedlan, and fueled his lust to not only become such a being, but surpass it. Begrudgingly, Naple, Byron’s boyfriend, a normal 6’3” technician and chief scientist behind the Lib-300 project, would transfer 2000 credits to Hedlan as in compliance with the bet the two made 234 year prior. “It tastes so much sweeter to earn those credits” Hedlan teased telepathically (as speaking directly with Naple wouldn’t reach) “Yeah yeah, you got lucky Had-es. I’m REAL close to fixing this reality-anchor…. Once I can do that, kisses the lats he was inspecting, I can do it again!” “Do what again?” Hedlan asked curiously. “I can surpass the limits of our reality, and enter a whole new field of science… If you thought my Lovecraftian fuck beast was powerful before… Wait until he can become even more powerful than this reality would permit… He’d be able to grow strength not only physically, but inter-dimensionally as well!” Naple boasted while actively drooling over the earth-quake-esque heartbeat he felt within Byron. “I… actually can’t imagine that… But hey sign me up for it!” “You’ll be the third to know!” Napel transmitted. Hedlan turned and started to walk towards his station, smirking as talking with Napel was always an itch he loved to scratch. In a world where you ascend to titan-hood daily, talking with someone of his size with his confidence is fascinating. Byron may be physically intimidating, but that goliath is passionately fucking that tiny twink constantly. Who’s the real master? The monster, or the man who chooses to be average despite not only improving himself to please his creation, but trusting his own experimental science to do so. Hedlan rode the elevator downwards towards his office: The energy sector. The energy sector itself is a fusion core continuously powered by the oceanic planet beneath, and is one of the most impressive feats of engineering ever undertaken by society. Pos-19 is an entire planet of liquid, similar to a gas giant. Even the core is liquid as well, only extremely pressurized and heavy liquid isotopes which are in a constant state of motion as the center of the planet decays, breaks down, expands and contracts. This creates liquid storms in the outer layer of lighter liquids, brimming with potential energy. When the planet was first colonized (well technically one of it’s moons), the outer layer of water was an untamable tyrant of impenetrable endless storms with winds moving at thousands of miles an hour and waves the size of mountains rapidly changing the landscape. Today, at least as far as can be viewed from the platform, it’s completely placid and the only wind to be found is artificially implemented. The change came from centuries of innovating every possible method of acquiring energy from the storms and water and channeling it into the energy core. The core as you can imagine is the main power-line for the whole platform, only it uses quantum tunneling instead of powerlines, transmitting energy not only into machinery and lights, but directly into people’s bodies in regulated amounts. But lets get back on track, you’re not here for the complex sciences behind futuristic cities, you’re here for Hedlan. Hedlan is a special case, requiring significantly more energy than the average citizen. In order to obtain that safely, it needs to be authorized and processed here daily. Hedlan used to love this part, the connection to the core, the raw energy that tamed a planet connected directly into him, the power of a god in his control, giving him the only spec of fear he’d feel daily as the switch is thrown and he may potentially fry like an egg. Now it just bored him. He was too used to it, and at some unconscious level, it didn’t scare him anymore. Even if it did malfunction for the first time in 10000 years, would it even kill him? More than likely his augmentations would overload and break down, which would suck, but he would survive it. If that kind of power couldn’t slay him, what could? Suddenly an update was transmitted to him which snapped him out of his funk. “Relay partner assignment: Toth Wavecrest” “Oh ho ho, Toth, you got the promotion.” “Sort of, our last fuck completely destroyed my Lib-systems, the Hive decided it’d be easier to just move me to tesseract relay than it would be to restore my body.” A voice beamed into Hedlan’s mind from somewhere else. “Careful baby, you keep surprising me like this and I may break the new model again.” “Not likely. This new one is built off the data they salvaged from my old body. It’s actually pretty damn advanced, and all of it tailored to handle everything your body could possibly hit me with. Check it:” Toth uploaded her own mental image. “48 meters huh? Guess I’ll need to find a new partner for my morning routine…” “Thank god, I already lived through what happened to poor Cindra this morning. Lucky she’s got the essex class body, otherwise I don’t think her pleasure sensors could override the crippling pain she endured…” “Naughty girl, looking into me when you should be preparing yourself…” “Oh shut up you cocky little monster, you knew I would, why else would you break her spine like that? You know that move’s reserved for me ;P…Mmmmm… I’m getting hot just thinking about you trying to break me… Hurry up and get down here already!” “Sorry babe, I’m not even in the water yet, and you know I like to enjoy this part.” “UUUUUHHHHGGGG, fine. But don’t be a little bitch if you can’t handle me when you get down here.” An alert sounded off: “Warning, returning member entering the wave-gym, all non-augmented personnel is to leave the drop zone immediately.” “Ahh… Another day in the gym.” Was the last transmission sent by Hedlan before he was dropped into the ocean below. The “gym” to Alpha-Centurian Bodybuilders is not lined with mirrors and ellipticals. The “Gym” is the planet itself. It consists of multiple layers of different density liquids. The outermost layer being relatively thin. To a normal 200-lb person, they’d find the liquid to be too thick to penetrate and would be stuck outside the first layer as their own buoyancy would prevent them from sinking. If you were slightly heavier, roughly 500lbs, your weight would overcome the tipping point for the first layer, and you’d sink to the top of the second layer. Drowning isn’t an issue, as your cellular energy isn’t reliant on oxygen, however the weight of the water itself acts as your first hurdle. It’s a workout just to stand up. If you attempted to piss yourself, youd’ find it difficult as the pressure of the water outside your dick is greater than the pressure you’re attempting to apply. If you can somehow surpass these challenges, there are hundreds of 500lb-800lbs weights strewn all over the layer between the first and second layer. They don’t sink further for the same reason the 200lb person couldn’t sink before. This makes the “Gym” divided into different groups of weight, where once you are heavy enough to sink further, the weights available to you are increased in relation. For bodybuilders, this is extremely ideal. With advancements in technology, the lack of light and their own depth is negligible, so they are effectively no different than if they were standing on dry land. Meanwhile the conductive nature of the liquids, and the reaction with perspiration from the body builders not only builds muscle, but tones it via the immense pressure of the water, and cools it, allowing for the immense energy to be expended without disturbing the other athletes. As Hedlan hit the water the sting of a 40-story drop was nothing. Meanwhile the newer body builders turned to see the massive 2000lb man splash above them and grumbled as they moved their weights to a new position to avoid being drug down. Hedlan opened his mouth as a flood of liquid squeezed itself into his body. It tasted similar to thick cream and salt from the dozens of sweaty people beneath rising up. He loved that taste, as while somewhat gross, it reminded him that he’s literally absorbing the work and dedication of thousands of people over millions of years. Hedlan continued to sink for quite a while. As he did, he took note of all the other builders and their processes. Some simply sat on their backs with a bar over them, pushing themselves slightly downward into the thicker liquid which in turn pushed themselves back. Others were doing reverse pull-ups, some doing downward squats, one even managed to drag a 500lbs weight into the 1000lbs zone until he dropped it and it rocketed back up, smacking some girl in the process angering her. But Hedlan didn’t get to see the end of their confrontation as he continued to sink. All the while the hairs on his body began to stick upwards. They were receiving energy en-mass as his body required more and more to maintain his structure in wake of rapidly increasing pressure. Soon, as Hedlan passed the 1600lbs zone, he began to feel the pressure of the ocean around him give way to his body’s processes, despite sinking in an ocean that could crush a tank, his body was actively pushing against the pressure, so much so that his body once again was expanding from the workout. Finally, Hedlan stopped sinking, ending up just slightly inside of the 2000lbs zone. The weights down here were different. Rather than dumbbells, all the weights at this level were more like spears, each weighing at least 2000lbs, but upon activation, would open the end of the spear, increasing the resistance of the spear when pushed through the liquid. After a quick diagnostics test, his equipment informed him the maximum amount of weight he could lift would be 2490lbs of resistance which increased slightly by 1-4 lbs with each passing minute. Hedlan snickered at the reading and picked up the bar next to him and commanded it to increase to 3000lbs of resistance. The bar itself didn’t get any heavier, but as Hedlan applied pressure, the familiar feeling of resistance prevented the bar from moving upward. The veins on his arm pulsated as he continued to try, but it wouldn’t budge. After a while he checked his max again: 2599lbs “Gettin there” he thought to himself and inhaled violently as to refresh and cool his insides with fresh liquid. He’d do this again and again, occasionally stopping to do some crunches or take a breath. And eventually, the bar moved once more, slowly but surely. A variety of warnings appeared in Hedlan’s mind which he arrogantly shrugged off, he knew how much he could take. Perhaps it was this illusion of danger that helped him so, but once he started lifting the weights faster and faster, his growth increased dramatically. By rep 5 he was a staggering 20ft tall,weighing 2700lbs. By rep 30, he was 28ft, and had actively pushed himself into the 3000lbs zone. He didn’t stop for a solid hour, his mind hyper-focused on every rep, calculating the ocean current, the pressure, the tears and expanses in his muscles and micro-muscle layers. A normal body builder would likely have stopped after a few minutes to rest, but today Hedlan was in the zone and refused to be taken out of it, stopping only to change muscle groups, biceps, triceps, outer abs, thighs, calves, inner abs, quadriceps, lats, spine, glutes, and phalics. This likely would have continued, but eventually his trance was broken by a voice: “You really aren’t going to notice me are you?” Hedlan didn’t stop but decided to check his stats: “Current weight: 4768.6lbs, Current expected max: 6945lbs of resistance, Current height: 38m” As Hedlan finished his reps he stood up and gazed upon the gargantuan beauty before him. It was Toth in her new body, an experimental relay that had grown even larger sense they spoke. She now stood under him at a staggering 90 meters tall, her body rippling with energy as she grabbed her partner with ease. Hedlan had become so used to the tons of water pressure surrounding him, he had a brief moment of fear when the much more powerful clutch of a 300ft tall goddess attempting to crush him like a snowball in her hand. This wasn’t malice, merely the start of their foreplay. The differences in size meant Hedlan only reached up to Toths knees. Toth herself had spent the previous hours refining her own secretions with Terrawats of excess energy from the ocean around her, making them exponentially more potent. In the water around her, bi-products leaked into the mixture, quickly forming pressurized diamonds of various chemicals that rocketed upwards, vaporizing themselves like a meteor flying through the sky. To Hedlan, this was a divine beauty only imaginable in someone else’s dreams. The way this aquatic dominatrix waited beneath him filled him with resolution and pride, like a knight charging into a castle to slay a dragon. The pain of being crushed quickly subsided once his brain finally triggered the chemicals for his sexual urges. As the bones in his arms fixed themselves, his cock, raw and torn from his experiences with Levidicus and the exercises in the wave-gym, began to expand rapidly, pulsating with the energy it was receiving as a long thick vein emerged from it, stretching all the way up Hedlan’s perfect abs. He could take it no longer. He grabbed a fistfull of Toth’s hair and used it like an anchor to pull himself down into the lower zone where Toth’s giant face rested. The pressure was excruciating and the buoyancy fought him every pull closer. To these two, sex is not just a fun passion or show of love, it’s a cruel battle of power where injuries are common and any sign of mercy or weakness is abused at any moment. Toth starts off with a ludicrous lead having more strength and size, however unlike Toth, Hedlan will continue to grow throughout the experience, and while it may start one sided, Hedlan will eventually take the lead. As he approached her face Toth licked her massive lips and prepared to defend her mouth, however with her hands being much more massive, and her hair being actively used as a climbing rope, she instead decided to surprise her man and willed her body to release and replace the buoyant liquids she’d been storing in her breasts. The result of which would make her upper body significantly more heavy than her lower body. With Hedlan tangled in her hair, she ended up dragging him down roughly 40 meters to a pressure he wasn’t prepared to tackle. Hedlan was in a panic, and he loved it. This must be the only woman in this world capable of bringing him to this heightened level of fear and instinct, and she was all his at this depth. Toth teased the little titan as she expected him to tap out and go back to working out until he was ready, she lived for the mischief of making this man feel inadequate and defeated, it was the only thing that could possibly motivate him even more and she loved that determination in his eyes when he got mad. But that look of defeat never came. Despite the pressure, Hedlan had reached her face. As if to toy with him, Toth opened her mouth and began to caress her man with her unusually long tongue, his hot broken limbs stuck to her oversized taste buds as he struggled. She chuckled telepathically and transmitted “Looks like I win this round big boy…” “Sure about that?” Hedlan chuckled back. As he did a massive shockwave shook Toth violently, and allowed Hedlan to escape her tongue as he began to rocket upwards. Hedlan explained instantly what had happened to her lover. “It was your breasts. They aren’t just triple Ds anymore, they’re the size of buildings. Moreover, you released lighter liquids when you started to flip yourself upside down, only now after a few moments, the heavier liquid is replacing them and reacting to gravity as well. That shockwave that shook your chest was the tons of weight finally catching up to the rest of you. Meanwhile your tongue has smothered me in reaction agent, as a result even in this increased pressure, my body is expanding at a much faster rate than those exercises allowed me. According to my stats, I’m now 5000lbs and 41 meters tall, closing in on almost half your size, meanwhile, you’ve foolishly allowed your lower half to be exposed above you…” There was a tug between Toths’ thighs as Hedlan grabbed onto them with immense strength her eyes widened as a powerful smack reverberated across her body as he struck her ass with a flat hand with insane speed. “That was a very bad girl trying that… Very bad indeed… Bad girls like that need some kind of punishment…. Hmm…” Toth struggled to regain her footing, but due to the nature of the heavier liquids in her breasts, she found that her body wouldn’t straighten up while this tiny man was holding her ass in a lighter zone, her strength turned out to be her weakness as without the flexibility she couldn’t fix herself fast enough. Meanwhile, Hedlan had diverted all the re-agent from Toth’s tongue into his cock, which now was disproportional from the rest of Hedlan’s body, extending long past his knees and nearly to his ankles. In comparison to Toth, it was roughly the size of two of her index fingers. A warning began to appear in toth’s mind as she struggled to find a means of adjusting herself: “Warning Hymenical Seal Broken”. Up above, Hedlan was ecstatic as he’d begun stage 2. As his powerful arms forced her legs apart his body became immersed in her potent concoction of energy and accelerant as it dispersed into the water around them. This was hyper-expansion, a sensation he hadn’t felt for years, nor did he believe was even possible for his body to perform at this size and pressure. It was different in the depths of the ocean, there isn’t much to compare your size to, the only two things that clued Hedlan into how much he was growing were his system alerts, and Toth’s rapidly shrinking body. He started off as half her size, but with each thrust felt his newfound strength increase dramatically. Toth meanwhile knew she was almost out of time, in minutes he’d be bigger than her and he’d absolutely destroy her. His cock inside of her was swelling with each thrust, reaching deeper and deeper until to her horror, she found the massive thing pushing out a small bump under her abs, signaling it could expand no further… Without ripping her womb apart… Hedlan had allowed his meat to endure the most growth as just like with Levidicus, the more dick to go around, the more chemicals he could absorb and secrete. It was monstrous, with his testicles the size of bean-bag-chairs under him bashing against her barren ass cheeks with a soft thud with each thrust like a boat idling near a dock during a storm. He couldn't see his cock at all, and didn’t dare even think about removing it when the rush of expansion was this strong, but judging by the increase resistance to his thrust, he figured he’d hit the bottom and allowed his growth to extend to other areas. Soon, he felt the tide of battle shift in his favor as his arms became wide enough to hold both of his lovers legs with an iron grip. It was at this point that Toth knew the battle was over and instead diverted all her extra energy toward processing the pleasure. The little man inside of her quickly expanded from reaching her hips, to reaching her navel, to her breasts, and soon, she felt the warm agony of her abominable wall being pressure-washed from the inside by a seemingly endless stream of hot cum. Eventually Hedlan relaxed and slowly removed his meat from the sticky mass of shredded tissue and swiftly cooling cum left of his partner’s abdomen. He didn’t notice it, but the water around the two was actively boiling from the intense reactions. His systems were taking much longer to process as his body worked overtime to connect new layers of nerves to his expanding brain. Eventually he got the results back: Current Height: 103 meters. Current Weight: 9932lbs Expected Strength: 25,300lbs of resistance. Warning: Mental activity slowed to reduce processing power. “Fucking hell, that’s so much power…” Toth’s crippled body was slightly smaller than Hedlan’s now, and even with all her augmentations, was struggling to repair the damage, all the while her ass is still dangling above her. Suddenly a warning appeared: “Partner’s mental stability compromised, incoming interaction is no longer avoidable, do you wish to terminate session?” Toth was scared, her man was already so much bigger and she had nothing left to offer him in terms of energized fluids. But he didn’t care about that anymore, he couldn’t, his mind had been fried out by the expansion. All that was left was his primal urges and deepest desires… And her ass was floating helplessly in front of him with his slowly recovering cock pressed against her face. “Do you wish to terminate?” “No. Bring it on big boy.” If it killed her she wasn’t going to show cowardice in front of Hedlan, her recklessness and his lust for power were what made the two so compatible in the first place. Still, while she’d never admit it, she felt fear and despair as those giant fingers gripped her throat and a monstrous 30-meter cock was pushed further into her mouth. She only lasted long enough to feel his massive tongue stretch across her thighs before her body underwent an emergency coma shutdown to preserve her consciousness. Thankfully, despite the damage to her body, throat and jaw, her brain had survived with only minor concussions from two large testicles slamming into her repeatedly. Hedlan meanwhile was not nearly as effective at growing while in his lowered mental state. Sloppy tongue work, didn’t even try to keep her stimulated with his fingers, hell near the end his cock ripped her jaw clean off. Despite this however, the pressure of the wave-gym still slowly continued his expansion process until Toth’s body could fit in Hedlan’s hand. It wasn’t until Hedlan’s mind rebooted that the full severity of the situation hit him. As he awoke he looked around and saw he was still in the ocean. His mind quickly updated him “Sir, you’ll be pleased to know that you’ve now set a new personal record in height (134m) , mass (10,984lbs), and expected strength (38,000lbs).” This surprised Hedlan, he wasn’t used to waking up to a new record or even waking up to this size… Suddenly it came back to him as fear gripped his mind: “Toth”. He frantically searched around but couldn’t see her at all, it wasn’t until he looked up to see her floating unconsciously above him that the reality of his situation hit him. He blasted himself upwards off the 11,000lbs layer to inspect her body, and suddenly breathed a sigh of relief. Her brain was intact and functional, thus, she was alive. Still, Hedlan didn’t waste any time and quickly started to ascend the waters as fast as he could. As he swam upwards he had to take extra care that the sudden reduction of pressure wouldn’t harm Toth. Eventually he managed to meet up with the same athletes he sank past before and transmitted the distress call into them. They dropped everything and took Toth to the surface, stopping only briefly to marvel at the 130 meter tall giant among giants handing the still massive girl to them. At this range, Hedlan could communicate with the company finally. “SOS we have a severely damaged experimental model 96 coming up, priority 1.” And while it wasn’t transmitted, Hedlan was almost certain he could hear Naple groan: “Damn it Hedlan, not again…” It took time for Hedlan to replace the water inside his body with the lighter water, this was done not out of the necessity to swim upwards (he was fairly certain he could breach the atmosphere with the power behind his thighs now) but to prevent massive releases of almost invisible heavier water from being released and potentially crushing a lighter swimmer beneath him. But eventually he was able to breach the surface with a powerful shockwave against the otherwise undisturbed waters. Citizens all over the platform stood in awe of the gargantuan beast before them, like a lovecraftian monster this chiseled adonis with the strength to crush mountains with a single flick of his wrist burst from the calm sea, his pectorals glistening in the sunset as his breathing displaced the crack between the swollen muscles by several yards with each heave, his arms majestically covered in a variety of muscles ranging in thickness from the size of an extension cord, to that of a city bus, all crammed together in a perfect pattern like a fractal image drawn by Davinci. His abdominal layers didn’t work together like the breathing was coming from his lungs, they worked separately as if each mound was breathing for itself desperate for air like pigs suckling their mother’s teets. Beneath the waves the 500lb bodybuilders were in for a treat, the water crashed and flowed all over his chiseled legs and ass, while his powerful cock and boulder sized testicles radiated power like knowing a construction site is active by the sound it emits. As Hedlan lifted himself out of the water and onto the platform, the droplets of water sticking to his enormous back and legs caused massive waves to crash beneath him. Hedlan had already been updated about Toth’s condition, it’d be days before she’d be conscious again, but she would be fine. She’d need a new body of course, but there would be no long-term damage. Byron was waiting for Hedlan when he got up there, and for the first time, Byron looked up to Hedlan’s immense goliath of a figure. “Well well well, seems like we got a new poster child in town.” “Yeah a new poster child for the dangers of over-expansion, you were INCHES away from committing the first murder on this planet in 400 years!” Naple interjected from somewhere telepathically. “She’s alright though yes?” Hedlan replied “Barely!” Naple proclaimed. “And… I’ve got some bad news Hedlan…” Hedlan looked at his friend with worry as Byron attempted to do all he could to avoid eye contact. “The hive… Has reviewed your readings and the… incident… They’ve pulled your upgrade permits and banned you from all future upgrades for the time being…” Naple explained as he climbed out of Byron’s ear. “Just like me…” Byron said softly with sadness in his eyes. “So… This is my plateau… The biggest I’ll ever be?” “Yes… Unless science evolves… This will be you…” A silence between the three seemed to stretch out for eternity. “If… that’s the case, do I need to look for new employment?” “No, I pulled some strings and we’ve got a whole new set up for you, working with Byron!” “I’m sorry but I don’t think climbing inside the poster-child of titan-sport augmentations and apparel is as appealing to me as it is to you.” “Climbing inside? Oh no, you’re his new rival.” “Wait I’m the new…” A sudden realization flashed inside of Hedlan which brought a smile to his face. “So what you’re saying is I don’t actually get anything by compressing myself anymore.” “Uh… No. I guess, you’ll still need to workout but I don’t think compression is even allowed for you any more.” Byron chuckled. “Guess I’ll just have to get bigger the old-fashioned way from now on… Now, if you boys excuse me, I’m going to go talk to those giantesses down on south street, I promised Toth I wouldn’t waste time mopping about when I could be snapping someone’s spine in her place…” —-----------------------------------------------------------

it’s gonna take a bit for the title to make sence also dads name is Ryan Chapter 1 I was worried sick about my dad with the combination of my mother passing away 2 years ago and his most recent girlfriend cheating on him had defeated the once beacon of light in my life. I had to do something to distract him at-least. I tried everything honestly. doing his father’s favorite activities (basketball and air soft) only made him feel worse as he struggled to keep up with everyone. Bringing him to his favorite restaurants only brought up memories of his wife. I even took him on vacation and it was great I saw a bit of dad come back he was eating and sleeping better he even looked better a few days into the trip. it was working dad was all smiles until he heard a voice across the hotel lobby “wow didn’t expect to see this sad sack here “ his ex was standing there in a sundress looking better than ever after crushing dads heart a month ago her new man (different that the guy she cheated on dad with which didn’t suprise me ) standing there awkwardly ryan started to try to walk away “what’s the matter don’t want to catch up” she taunted. “Why would he you witch” it was out of my mouth before i could stop myself I kept going “I mean what was I thinking a creature like you wouldn’t know tact if it smacked you upside the head” she was looked toward me “shut it limp dick the adults are talking” Her mountain of a boyfriend steps between us “babe that’s enough let’s all just head to our rooms ok” she glares at me for a few seconds before they both leave I grab dads arm “forget about them let’s go to the water park this place has probably to loud for the wicked witch over there” we had fun on some of the rides for a bit before chilling by the pool I was talking with dad but he got distracted and I turned to see new guy In nothing but a speedo and the witch luckily she didn’t say anything but dad kept staring at new guy. “I think I wanna call it for the night ray” dad said quickly leaving the pool running. I went back a little later to give him some time for himself. Later that night I was woken up randomly hearing dad grunting i stays still till I hear dad close the restroom door. i checks what dad was watching www.musclebottoms.com and a video of a hung body builder fucking another one that looked kinda like the new guy. Dads bi like me cool I guess this makes coming out a bit easier then. I jump back to my bed and try to think of ways I could convince dad to work out with me so he could find a guy that fits his buffer tastes. I wake up with a knock at the room door. I groggily get up and open the door to find the witches new man standing there he was massive his clothes Doing nothing to hide anything after glancing down don’t blame dad for staring tbh. “Sorry to bother you but priapus-Tec is trying to make ways for guys to get huge and need people if your interested just call this number and you’ll probably end up bigger than me” he flexes his massive arms “thanks I’ll think about it” I hear dad say behind me “I’ll try it if we both do it” ”good to hear hope to see you soon” he says winking at dad before walking away

It turned out that Kurt was wrong about Sam gaining ten pounds in a month. He gained thirty pounds of muscle. He was up to 240lbs, with a 31” waist. Omar, his personal trainer, couldn’t believe it. “Dude, look at you,” Omar said in awe, as Sam, stripped down to his briefs, flexed in the gym mirror after his workout. “You on gear?” Omar asked. “I mean, no judgement, just curious.” “Nah,” said Sam. Then he thought for a second. “At least I don’t think so.” “What’s that mean?” “Well, I met a…nutritionist…who’s got me on a new…diet and supplement plan. I’m not 100% sure what all’s in it.” “You’ll have to share it with me sometime, because it’s definitely working. You aiming to get any bigger?” “Oh hell yeah,” answered Sam, as he flexed and admired his own arms, and watched them ball up to over 20 inches. “As long as I stay this lean.” He pinched the skin on his cobblestone abs and rolled it in his fingers before letting it snap back in place, thin and tight as cellophane wrap. “How big you aiming for?” Omar asked. “Oh, I’m not setting a limit, Omar. No limit at all.” Sam continued to flex, his briefs soaked thru with sweat. His 240lb physique was so flawless that Omar had to fight the urge to start stroking himself right there. As the weeks went by, Sam continued to train with Omar. What he didn’t tell Omar was, that as his size and strength kept growing, he considered their sessions a mere warmup for his real workout. After his hour with Omar, he drove to another, more hardcore gym, where he used much heavier weights than his fancy gym provided. He concentrated on basic lifts like deadlifting, benching, and squatting. At this gym, he wore oversized hoodies and baggy sweats, which were soaked thru with sweat halfway thru his workout. He never stripped down and posed here; this gym was all about building power. The other lifters at the gym, mostly long time muscleheads, recognized him from TV, and figured the handsome weatherman would give up on heavy lifting pretty quickly. Instead, Sam continued to lift harder and harder, and was soon moving more iron than any of them, gaining their respect and admiration. More than one of them had to adjust themselves in their sweats as the newbie made the whole gym floor shake from deadlifting nearly half a ton for reps. Sam had purposely not joined Kurt’s gym, in order to keep his focus on his own progress. Not that Kurt didn’t notice the newfound muscle mass on his favorite coworker. He made sure to order extra herbal shakes from his ranch manager, and kept Sam well supplied. Sam, for his part, decided not to question whatever was in the stuff that not only seemed to be making him grow into a mutant of muscle, but also made the deep bruising he got from the roughhouse sex sessions with Kurt disappear overnight. One night, during his weather forecast, the sleeves of Sam’s dress shirt ripped at the shoulder, unable to contain his cantaloupe sized deltoids. He ripped the sleeves clear off his arms, then continued with the weather, his thick, vein-laced arms completely exposed. Off camera, Carol almost fainted, Gary came in his polyester pants, and the crew gasped. “And now over to Kurt with sports news,” said Sam when he finished his forecast, but not before hitting a double bi flex for the camera. When the camera switched to Kurt, he let out a hearty laugh and said, “Well, it looks like somebody had a good arm day.” From that night on, the sleeveless dress shirt became Sam’s signature look. By the end of the second month, Sam had put on 35 more pounds. He was built like Iain Valliere. Not only that, but his dick had grown from eight inches to eleven, and had gotten thicker and heavier. By this time, Kurt had grown to 350lbs. They were both hornier than ever, and were having what Sam called god-sex, because any normal man would have been crushed by their sexual antics. One night, they decided to get a hotel suite instead of doing any more damage to Kurt’s place, and ended up trashing most of the furniture and damaging the walls. After coughing up repair costs for that, they decided to pitch in together and buy an old barn just outside of the city. That worked out perfectly for them. They bought a ton of old gym equipment online and filled half the barn with it. They also put in a boxing ring. They had both boxed when they were younger, Sam in college and Kurt in the Marines. Kurt figured they could start a fight club with some of the bigger goons from their gyms. And in on far corner of the barn, they took eight king-sized mattresses and hooked them together in a giant rectangle on the dirt floor. For after fighting. That week at work, Kurt was going to be reporting remotely from the convention center in town. There was a muscle and fitness convention going on, and Kurt’s assignment was to interviewed different health experts, influencers, and athletes every night. One night he had a sit down with a 22-year old arm wrestling champ. For the past four years he hadn’t lost a match. Kurt could smell the gear wafting off the young buck’s oily sweat the minute he sat down. He was a big bloated redneck from Georgia named Hank. He weighed an easy 240. All the gear he was on was making him sweat profusely. His face was shiny with it, and bloated with water retention. He had on a stringer tank with a Superman logo on the front. His delts and traps were spotted with acne. He was a cocky, arrogant dick. Kurt had watched videos of him, from when he was a swaggering sixteen year old to the present, always talking shit and mocking his opponents, especially after he beat them with ease. The interview was not going well. The big galoot gave one word answers, more like grunts, to Kurt’s questions. The jackass made no attempt to seem interested or interesting. But when he pulled out his phone and started checking it, Kurt got pissed off and decided to make things more interesting. “I see there’s an arm wrestling table right behind us, Hank. Why don’t you show me what kind of techniques you use to win so many of your matches?” Hank looked over at the table and said, “Whatever.” Then he looked at Kurt as if for the first time. “Big guys like you usually go down easy. All that beach muscle isn’t much use against this.” Hank smirked and bounced his waterlogged hog pecs. “Beach muscle, huh?” Hank’s eyes widened as Kurt stood up. The tall, broad sportscaster was clearly much bigger than the young dude had realized. They walked over and got on opposite sides of the table and put their arms up. “You ever arm wrestle before?” the young champ asked. “I wouldn’t wanna hurt you,” trying his bravado on the giant across from him. “Only in the Marines and in prison. Not much since.” Kurt’s cameraman moved in closer, as the two men linked up their right hands. He could see a flash of doubt cross the young champ’s face as Kurt’s much bigger hand engulfed his own. Even more doubt as Kurt’s upper arm bunched up and pushed his polo sleeve up higher. A small crowd of convention goers was gathering around them. “Um,” stammered Hank, the bluster draining away fast. “I’m not really supposed to arm wrestle anyone who’s not registered.” “Oh, come on, boy. Just one time for the viewers at home. Show them what you can do to beach muscle like mine. You say ‘go’.” Hank couldn’t figure out any way to backdown now, so he leaned into the table and said, “One, two, three, go,” hoping to get a jump on the huge mountain of muscle across from him. Instead, Hank’s hand got slammed down so fast and hard that the crowd jumped. The cameraman hoped no one at home blinked, because they’d have missed it. Hank looked stunned. “You…you jumped the gun,” he said. “Oh, did I?” said Kurt. “Let’s go again, then. Just one more time.” This time, Kurt didn’t slam the champ’s hand down. He just held it in place. Hank pushed and pushed, to no avail. A big squiggly vein popped out across his brow as he struggled to move Kurt’s arm even a little. Kurt yawned as he held Hank’s arm in place. Then he reached into his pocket with his free hand, and pulled out his phone. He scrolled thru the screen with his big thumb. Hank’s face grew beet red, and he leaned his bulky shoulder into his arm so far that his feet almost left the ground. Kurt smiled at the desperate cheat the champ was resorting to. Kurt slowly, tortuously slowly, began to push the redneck’s hand toward the tabletop. Hank’s arm shook with effort, and sweat rolled down his face and hog body. The table creaked and wobbled. Kurt continued to scroll thru his phone nonchalantly. The crowd started to cheer as Hank’s hand neared the table. Clearly, he was an unpopular champ. Kurt got Hank to about an inch from the win and held him there unwavering while Hank’s whole body quivered with effort, sweat matting his hair. Kurt hit a contact number on his phone and called his favorite restaurant. He placed an order for takeout while he held Hank’s hand suspended. When he hung up, he mercifully tapped Hank’s hand down. “Next time, maybe you can try taking on our weatherman instead of all this beach muscle.” Kurt bounced his giant chest shelf back and forth at his losing opponent. The crowd cheered and hooted. They started chanting Kurt’s name. Kurt laughed and turned to the camera. “That’s all from here, folks. Tune in tomorrow for more from MuscleCon.” He flexed his massive 25” right arm, all yoked with pump, and kissed the peak. Meanwhile, off camera, the chump of a champ rubbed his sore arm and sulked off.

POP Part 3 “Who the fuck are you?” said Detective Brick. Detective Carnitas slowly rose to his feet and stood at his full 6’6” height, hoping there was no stain noticeable on his pants. He composed himself, and shook out his enormous muscular limbs. “Fucking low blood sugar. Gotta remember to feed these big muscles when I’m hard at work on a case. Speaking of work, or the lack of it, you must be Brick, the guy who skipped out on my briefing. What was your emergency, a spin class?” The sex-crimes detective’s powerful physique was dripping with sweat and the glossy sheen highlighted the throbbing veins feeding liquid testosterone to pumped man-muscle bristling with striations. Brick scoffed. “You must be Carnitas. While you were taxing yourself trying to stand upright, I was down doing real police work on the street. Got a tip the pimp I’m after for a rape charge was gonna do a drive-by on the cop-shop. So I ran down his car, punched out the driver’s side window, yanked him out by his hair and introduced his face to the asphalt. That’s one less scumbag on the streets. What have you done in the last hour, request some files? Get your big ass stuck in a desk chair?” Carnitas swallowed as he stared at Brick's perfect proportions. His shoulders were as broad as his own, but unlike his, tapered down to a narrow waist cobbled with abs, obliques and serratus, and framed by a swole Adonis belt that dove into his black jeans. These jeans clung like skin to his sprinter’s thighs, thickly rounded calves and grapefruit-sized bulge. He was dark-haired, around Carnitas’ age at 29-30, with a high and tight fade, a classic cop push-broom mustache, a slightly caulifowered right ear and a healed over eyebrow scar that spoke of a love of a good scrap. At 6’4”, he was probably 260 lbs; all muscle and bone, not a shred of fat. That brash man-stink that had bitch-slapped the cum out of Steve’s cock continued to pummel his olfactory bulb like a speedbag. He gritted his teeth and willed his dick to extend its refractory period. “Admirable work,” Steve said. “But I gotta know you’re committed to homicide while you’re here.” Brick shrugged and reached for some paper towels to dry off. His veiny bicep flexed into a perfect ball as he blotted the back of a muscular neck as sleek and strong as a Greek column. “That was my last collar, guess I’m all yours now, Muscles.” He sniffed the full dark bush of his armpits. “You got your gym bag handy? I need to tame these pheromones before the lady cops commit sex-crimes on me, ha-ha. Spot me some Old Spice, will ya?” Carnitas walked Brick back to the case room and tossed him a towel and his deodorant out of his gym bag. “Thanks, man. I’ll catch ya later.” “Dude, it’s noon. That what they call a work-day at the SVU?” “You calling me lazy? You? Don’t make me laugh. But if you can’t manage I can tag along with whatever boy-errand’s on your schedule, if you insist.” Carnitas knew for sure he didn’t want this alpha-stud coming with him to see his contact. That would be chaos. “Chill, bro. Flint wants you to go down to the morgue and get an update from Dr Stain,” he lied. “The fuck? What, do you get all the sexy assignments?” You have no idea, Carnitas thought as he grabbed his jacket. *** Officer Carnitas grabbed the 5’10” 240 lb thug and threw him against the concrete wall. “I’ll ask you again, punk. We gonna do this the easy way, or the hard way?” “I’ll never talk to you, pig. I ain’t no snitch.” “That so, chuckles? I bet I got a way to make you sing.” Carnitas growled as he ripped the thug’s t-shirt to shreds, exposing his tatted muscle-tits and washboard abs. He whipped punches into those abs with his big fists. “You hit like a girl, pig.” “Alright tough guy, let’s see how you like this.” The cop stepped forward and started to paw the thug’s hard pec bulk with his big cop hands, then pinched his gristly nips, grinding them flat against his forefingers with his meaty thumbs. “Fuck… yeah… cop… milk my titties all you want, you’re just… turning… me… on!” Carnitas could feel a bulge plump up against the underside of his own ballsack. “Yeah, bitch, your baby dick getting hard?” The thug popped open his button fly and a smelly uncut monster cock exploded out. “7 lbs 6 ounces, cocksucker. It’s a boy.” “Fuck me!” Steve gasped. “Oh I intend to, muscle-cop.” With a swinging punch the thug buried his fist wrist deep in Carnitas’ gut. He dropped to his knees, his mouth gaping like a fish. The thug grinned lewdly as he gripped the cop’s ears. “That’s it pig, open wide.” With a single powerful plunge, the thug thrust his throat-busting battering ram right past Steve’s tonsils. “Fuck yeah, muscle-pig, take that meat.” The thug’s pecs flexed into iron domes as he forcefully face-fucked the huge officer’s skull once, twice, three times, then unloaded a torrent of thick creamy spunk into his gullet. “Eat that cum, muscle-cop. Fill up that soft belly with my sticky ex-con baby-batter.” Steve’s eyes bugged out as he swallowed desperately, holding his breath for fear he’d inhale cum into his lungs. Pulling out, the thug backhanded the cop sharply, who cried out at the blistering pain. “Fucking hell, Trevor!” The thug advanced on him snarling, but then froze. “Wait Steve, is that your safe-word?” “I don’t fucking have a safe-word you asshole. I was supposed to be the rough top.” Steve shook his head to clear some of the wooziness, then awkwardly got to his feet, with the help of his apologetic contact, and sometimes lover, who worked as a nurse at the General. “Aw, man, sorry, I got a little carried away with the role play. I thought you wanted to improvise the way you reacted to my dick reveal.” “What the hell is up with that anyway?” Steve palmed the nurse’s softening cock as it deflated back to average flaccid cock size. “I know, right, isn’t it awesome? It's a new experimental Super-Viagra, code-named Piledriver. The pharmacist on the urology floor has a crush on me and gave me a sample. How do you feel? I’m supposed to tell him about any side effects.” “I’d say you can definitely tell him ‘bouts of aggression’. But what do you mean, how do I feel? I didn’t take it.” “I think there’s an interaction with athenabol. DBag chaser that I am, I unloaded already in a dude before you got here. I swear ten minutes later he looked like he’d gained twenty pounds of meat.” “Damn, get me a case of that shit.” “I thought you wanted information,” Trevor said slyly. “I do,” said Carnitas, as he flopped onto the reinforced cot in the small room and ripped open the snaps of his blue police shirt. “That was just an unexpected fee, so I think you owe me.” He rubbed his sore abs tenderly. Trevor lay down beside him and propped up on an elbow. He fingered the flimsy fasteners. “These cop shirts have snaps?” “I was 200 lbs lighter when I last wore a street uniform, kid. This is a stripper shirt.” He flexed his 28” cannons and the sleeves split open with a rip of velcro. He looked to his right and his left. “Do these look bigger to you?” “It doesn’t work quite that fast. Tell me the stripper story.” “Later, it’s your turn to spill. What did you find out.” Trevor leapt up from the cot, and landed softly on his feet like a muscular cat. He quickly opened the door to check up and down the hall of the bathhouse. The Muscle Barn was a converted warehouse that catered to the massive muscle freaks of the athenabol era, and their many admirers. Concrete floors and walls, and specially made cots were a requirement to endure the rutting thrusts of farm-animal-sized men. “Okay, the coast is clear. Don’t want any of my fellow murses reporting me for this. The dude with the blown-out bicep is named Simon Crust. The ER nurses say they never saw anything like it. There was barely anything the surgeons could do for him except sew up the empty connective tissue of the muscle. With physiotherapy he’ll be able to maybe lift a fork to feed himself, but that’ll be it.” “So he’s been sent to the rehab hospital?” “Naw, Steve, they sent him to Bedlam Psych. He’s a complete emotional wreck. Suicidal. If you ask me, he didn’t have a lot of marbles to lose. Who goes in for something like that? Makes our little scene here look like a tea party.” “Thank, Trev. That helps. Give me a couple of months to practice on a fire hydrant and maybe we can try a reverse-delivery of that baby dick.” Trevor giggled and blushed. “I always have time for you and your muscles, Steve. Just work on those abs a bit, hey? One punch?” “Goddamit, kid, I wasn’t flexing. Oh shit, I think I feel it!” Steve got up from the cot and looked in the room’s floor to ceiling mirror. He bounced his juiced-up muscle-hogs “Aw fuck, Trev I can feel it. The growth. Look at this shit.” “Goddamn that’s hot. You gotta be up to what, 63 inches?” “Fuck yeah, a chest bigger than Tom Cruise is tall.” “Aw fuck is that more velcro I hear?” This time the cop-stripper pants were failing at the seams as Steve’s glutes, quads and hammies swelled in all directions. Trevor tore the fabric off in a flash and dove face first into Steve’s humongous squatbutt. “Oh shit oh shit oh shit.” Steve’s cock throbbed as Trevor burrowed his way like a badger into his burgeoning glutes, extending a long tongue to lap at the muscle-cop’s pucker. “I feel… swole all over, tight… like my whole body’s a hard-on. Fucking hell!” Steve threw up a bicep flex that destroyed his sleeves instantly. His peaks rose higher than ever before. He extended his index fingers and could tap the skin of ‘em, tight as hell like he was rapping on a snare drum. “Aw fuck Trev.” Steve’s brain started to melt as his lover upped the intensity of the rimjob, sucking and smacking that shithole like he was tunneling a new subway. His vision went blurry and the sounds faded away, replaced by a voice that rattled Det. Carnitas to his core. “FEEL GOOD?” “Oh God!” Steve groaned. “YOU LIKE THAT, BITCH?” “Yes! God, yes!” “YOU LIKE BEING SWELLED UP LIKE A BALLOON, DON’T YOU, FAGGOT.” Arms with muscles like hot steel snaked around his back, scalding his skin. “Uhhhhh…” Steve drooled, as two rough masculine hands grabbed his huge pecs. “I’m… not… a… faggot… I’m… a… man..!” “HUH-HUH-HUH,” the voice chuckled. “SURE.” CRINK! Steve watch in horror as his huge, enormously swollen chest compressed against the pressure of those arms. The hands linked fingers. Steve felt cannonball biceps flex, collapsing his lats. He felt impossibly hard pecs dig into the topography of his big back like twin backhoes. “No!” he yelled as he saw the arms link at the wrists, then the forearms, then the elbows. “A MAN IS SOMEONE WHO CAN DO THIS.” Holding Steve’s compressed torso in with one titanically powerful arm, the other arm flexed into boulders as it gathered Steve’s legs one at a time and snapped them upwards, folding the useless limbs into the lump of cop-meat. “Help!” Steve warbled as those arms massaged and rippled, pressed and squelched, molding his failing flesh into a volleyball sized sphere. “TAKE A LOOK AT THAT MUSCLE, FAGGOT. THAT’S A MAN.” Steve was held in the palm of one hand to face the other arm of the violating perp, which flexed, peaking into a veiny, striated mass of crackling nuclear power. Steve sobbed, his tears running into the crevices of his compressed ball-body, now shrinking further into a softball, then a billard ball, than a gumball by the powerful fingers around him. With one eye left available to see, he watched as those fingers brought him to the perp’s open mouth. “Ugh!” Steve cried as he was slurped up by a strong tongue, then rolled around inside. After a few mastications by powerful jaws, he felt the tongue deform the center of his ball. Suddenly he could see again, as his whole body was blown out the perps lips as a bubble. He saw himself inflating, his body filled with air from the strong bellows of his lungs. Finally the perp plucked the wad from his lips and Steve hung floating in the air before him. “GET A GOOD LOOK, BITCH-COP” Steve’s eyes drank in the view of the most masculine body in existence. Pecs like Saturn and Jupiter, delts, biceps and triceps like rocky planets, abs like a field of asteroids. And above them all, a domineering face, bright like the sun. Steve felt he could almost see the outline of his jaw as he heard the last words from his mouth. “ENJOY YOUR POP, FAGGOT” Then the two out-stretched god-arms slammed together, clapping Steve Carnitas out of existence. … … … “Steve, wake up, wake up” “Graaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!” Steve shrieked as his swollen dick exploded, cum barreling out of his dickslit, splashing all over the mirror and ricocheting back onto his pecs and face. He drew in great honking gasps as he flailed in Trevor’s arms. “Shhh. Shhh. It’s OK babe, you’re OK.” “Fuck fuck fuck.” Carnitas swore as his breathing began to slow. “Damn that was intense.” “You’re telling me. I was trying to figure out how I would explain to the ER doctors that I gave you a seizure from my rimjob. You scared me.” Trevor moved to the front of him and hugged him, burying his face in his deep pec cleft. With arms that regularly lifted super-obese patients, the strong nurse lifted Steve’s massive bulk and squeezed him tight. Steve sighed and looked in the mirror. He stared at Trevor’s muscular back, at his own extra-swollen muscles, and then at the cum on his lips. A ping of clarity sounded in his brain. “Holy shit” To Be Continued.

As he drove towards Kurt’s place, Sam realized that he had neglected to shower. The car stank like gym rat, and despite the defroster being on full, the windows were fogging up. He was getting turned on by his own funk. He got to Kurt’s and knocked on the door. He heard Kurt yell that the door was open. He went inside. He found a shirtless Kurt in the kitchen, prepping dinner. Sam’s dick jumped at the sight of the huge powerlifter’s arms and delts rippling as he diced vegetables. “What’s up?” asked Kurt without looking up from the cutting board. Sam peeled off his tee and dropped it. Sam’s upper body glistened with sweat, and, standing under the recessed lighting of the kitchen, he looked like he was on stage. His pumped body was highlighted perfectly. Kurt looked up, and Sam flexed his arms, then cocked his waist at an angle in a pose he had seen of classic bodybuilders. “Well well well,” said Kurt, putting down his knife and walking around his island and over to Sam. “Look at you, you handsome fuck.” Kurt ran his heavily calloused palms up and down Sam’s sides, scraping against Sam’s tight satiny skin like coarse sandpaper. Sam got goosebumps. “You like these big hands on you, Sam?” Sam grunted yes. Kurt squeezed Sam’s ribs with his meaty fingers. He pressed his thumbs into Sam’s sides. Sam gasped in pain. He’d never felt hands with so much strength. It made his dick pulse. “Your hard little muscles are hot as fuck, but I could still kick the shit out of you,” Kurt whispered in Sam’s ear. Then Kurt lifted him up. The big powerlifting sportscaster held Sam in midair by his waist. “You’re like a little Ken doll in my hands. My own Weatherman Ken,” said Kurt. Then he pressed Sam overhead, and started doing reps with him. “My little toy doll plaything,” growled Kurt, as he used Sam’s 210lb bodyweight as a barbell. He pressed him for 20 slow, steady reps, saying “Ah yeah. Ah fuck yeah,” as he held Sam high overhead. Then he shifted all Sam’s weight over to his left arm, and held him aloft as he flexed his right arm. “Fuck, so goddam strong,” snarled the big hulk. They had both grown hard. Then Kurt took Sam and pinned him up against the wall. He crushed his fingers into Sam’s extended arms. “Aw fawk,” groaned Sam. He felt like he was being manhandled by a super villain. His hardon pushed out the fabric of his sweatpants. Kurt mouthed Sam’s dick thru the sweats. Sam wrapped his legs around Kurt’s bulked up hairy torso. Kurt used his teeth to pull Sam’s waistband over his hardon, then he went down on him. “Sweetgeezus,” moaned Sam, as the big bullnecked man worked him. Sam arched the small of his back out as Kurt bobbed slowly up and down the hard shaft. Kurt’s powerful fingers dug deeper into Sam’s arm flesh. With the combination of excruciating pain and extreme pleasure, Sam couldn’t hold out long. And when he let it fly, it was the most voluminous ejaculation he’d ever experienced. Thick, long blasts of semen. Over and over. Ten times the amount he’d ever produced. When he was finally drained, Kurt slid his feet to the floor and let him go. Sam slid down to his ass on the kitchen tile, spent. He looked up at Kurt, who towered over him with his massive frame. The big man’s hairy stomach protruded out like a roid gut. Kurt wiped his mouth with the back of his veiny forearm and said, “My turn.” He undid his pants, pulled them down over his swollen dick and tree trunk thighs. Sam had a moment mixed with panic and desire, as he thought Kurt was going to try and shove his huge whopper down his throat. The head alone was big as a fist. Kurt noticed the trepidation on Sam’s face and assured him he wouldn’t face fuck him. “First you’d gag, then you’d choke, and your eyes would get all teary. Then your lips would turn blue from lack oxygen. It never goes well. I haven’t had a good blow job in years. On the other hand,” he said, leaning over and picking Sam off the floor. “I know your ass can take it.” Kurt tossed the cutting board full of chopped vegetables into the sink. Then he bent Sam over the kitchen island. At first, the granite countertop was cold on his torso, but his body heat warmed it up fast. Kurt used his own precum to lube them both up. Sam grabbed onto the edges of the granite slab and held on for dear life as Kurt used his battering ram cock on him like a medieval weapon. Kurt grunted with each deep thrust, and Sam groaned. The island creaked and shifted with each thrust, until the base cracked off the floor, and began to inch across the kitchen. It finally slammed into the counter so forcefully that the cabinet doors opened up as dishes and glasses spilled out and shattered on the countertop. As Kurt started cumming, he roared louder, and the island started buckling. He grabbed the 500lb slab along with Sam’s 210lbs and lifted it up in his powerful arms. He stepped backwards and tipped the slab upward, causing Sam to slide down deeper onto Kurt’s mega cock. Kurt continued ram into him as he held the slab in midair. He finally set the slab onto the floor and laid down on top of Sam, letting his seed continue to pump into Sam’s ass. “Kurt, dude, you’re crushing me,” groaned Sam from under the massive powerlifter sprawled on top of him. Kurt pulled out of Sam, then rolled off of him onto the floor with a loud thump. “Whoa,” he said as he stroked his still-hard dick. Then he stood up. He put one hand on each side of his head. His biceps bulged up almost the same size of his skull. Then he pushed his head to one side, then the other, cracking his neck so hard it would have broken the spine of a normal human, but only realigned his cervical vertebrae. He looked down at Sam, and noticed his beet red ass cheeks and the finger shaped bruises coming out on his arms. “You look like you were run over by a tank,” he said. “I sort of was,” said Sam, as he rolled over and sat up. “Your kitchen looks like it too.” Kurt laughed. “I’ve seen worse.” He went over to the refrigerator and pulled out a glass bottle. “Here, looks like you could use some of this.” Sam took a big chug of the herbal drink. “My ranch foreman said to never have more than one a day, but what harm could it do?” said Kurt, as Sam finished the bottle, his second of the day. Sam almost choked on his last gulp. “What do you mean?” “Apparently there’s some ancient folklore about too much of a good thing. I’m sure it’s fine. Maybe you’ll just put on an extra ten pounds of muscle this month.” Sam relaxed a little. “Or maybe I’ll gain another inch or two on my dick.” “That’d be a good start,” said Kurt. Sam looked at Kurt’s huge appendage, swinging between his overdeveloped quads and still dripping cum. Yeah, that would definitely be a good start.

[Thanks for all the likes, folks, some gore but no snuff this chapter, and some worldbuilding, with a little office alpha-male dominance thrown in, cause you know I just can’t help myself.] POP, Part 2 The next morning Det. Steve Carnitas did what he always did when he had feelings he couldn’t explain. He went to the gym. The police gym was a good one. Though he was by far the biggest guy on the force, it had weights enough to challenge him. He trained for size anyway, not strength. High reps to utter muscular failure, twice daily workouts before and after work, pummeling his muscles to grow, grow, grow. “Never big enough,” was his motto, ever since high school, when he shot up a foot in height during freshman year and acquired the nickname “Beanpole”. Nobody called him that now. Even though he was a fixture at the gym, he still attracted stares when he worked out, and today a gobsmacked recruit couldn’t help but blurt: “Whoa!” every single time he caught sight of Carnitas’ 450 lbs of perma-bulk. He finished his sixth set of bicep curls, and feeling the full tension of the final negative rep, set the bar on the rack and shook out his veiny guns swollen with pump to 28” of bulging meat. “Fuck yeah,” he said. “Who’s the man? Bam!” He threw up a huge front double biceps and watched in the mirror as the muscle inflated, peaking level with his wrists. Thanks to a new steroid called athenabol, nicknamed Double-DBol, even amateur lifters like Carnitas who put in the work could slab on mass that would make Ronnie Coleman green with envy. He spied the recruit watching him out of the corner of his eye and twisted a side chest pose just for him. As his monstrous pecs heaved up and out into a Mount Rushmore of meat, he watched the color drain from the musclepup’s face and cum soak the front of his shorts. He chuckled. “Thank you Double-DBol, for my Double D’s.” Nothing like demolishing an arm workout and some involuntary muscle worship to buff up the confidence. And he needed it, after that scene last night. He’d blamed low blood sugar when Dr Stain had revived him. “I oughta know I need to feed these big muscles,” he’d said. “Guess I’m too much man for this world.” “Yeah, you said that.” Dr Stain rolled his eyes. “Maybe try cycling off the steroids.” “All natural, baby,” he’d lied. Carnitas changed into his work clothes and left the gym for the case room. He shoved his gym bag under his desk just as he saw Chuckie clearing off his, his possessions going into a file box. “You get fired for snorting evidence again, Chuckie?” “Naw dog, I’m just the low man on the totem pole, they’re bringing in an SVU guy to work with you on that new case and I gotta make myself scarce.” Special Victims Unit, sex crimes. Makes sense, thought Carnitas, remembering the cum on the vic’s lips. “What guy?” “I don’t know his name but he is the most jacked guy I ever seen.” “Excuse me?” Carnitas bristled. “Naw dog, you’re bigger than him, sure, you’re bigger than anyone I know, but JACKED, you know what I’m saying?” “Get the fuck outta here, moron.” “Jeeze, dog, roid rage much?” Carnitas banged the drawers of his desk in anger as he collected the files for briefing. He checked his watch. “Shit.” Carnitas hated being late. Mostly because ever since he blew past 400 lbs, he knew the other cops saw him as slow. There was a limit to admiration of muscle in cop culture. Once you got to the point where you looked like you couldn’t chase a perp, the compliments stopped, and the insults started. Carnitas didn’t give a shit what people thought of his body, but he hated that others judged his character based on that. Slow, unprofessional, or the worst: vain. But he knew it was a losing battle ‘cause if there was any people who liked to judge, it’s cops. Carnitas entered the briefing room. Sure enough the other homicide detectives were already there. “Get trapped under a barbell, slim?” asked Hamm, the bearish data officer. “No, trapped under your mama, piglet.” “No porcine insults, please, in my house,” said Lt Flint. “Sorry, boss.” “Get us started then.” Carnitas waddled to the front of the room and began sticking pictures to the whiteboard. Detective Shaw whistled a catcall. “That ass is criminal, sweetheart.” “Shaw,” Lt. Flint growled. “Sorry boss, I’ll try to keep it in my pants. But damn, Stevie don’t make it easy.” Carnitas took a deep breath and let it out. Garrett Shaw was 170 lbs soaking wet but he could get away with shit-talk like that because he was a black-belt in five different kinds of grappling. If you tried to take a swing at him, he’d tie you up in knots, then frog-march you around the case room making you slap your own face. “The victim,” Carnitas said finally, “is Peter Tinker, a 35-year-old retail manager of a sports nutrition store. Unmarried, no kids, lived alone, no record. Neighbors describe him as quiet and unassuming, remarkable only for his muscular size. Dr Stain’s report puts him at 6’4” and an estimated pre-mortem weight of 410 lbs.” “Anything else notable in Stain’s report?” asked Flint. “Some alcohol in his system but no illicit drugs. Antidepressants in the medicine cabinet but not in the bloodwork. Suggests he wasn’t taking ‘em.” “Off his meds,” Shaw shot out, “coulda been suicidal, hired this guy to off him? Wait a sec, you said no illicit drugs?” “Yeah.” “Bullshit. This guys a Double-DBag if I ever seen one.” Carnitas winced at the harsh nickname. “Athenabol doesn’t show up on tox screens.” “Guess you would know, Stevie.” “Shaw!” Flint barked. “If you don’t find your frontal lobes I’m going to find them for you by fingerfucking your brainpan.” “Geez, boss.” “Hamm. What have you got on this streaming site?” “Dark web, robust VPN, so untraceable in terms of a location. The vid posted of the murder has been viewed 100,000 times in the last twelve hours. You can view it once then you gotta pay $10 to download it. Eighty percent of those viewers did so, so the perps made $800,000 already, minus whatever cut the dark-web launderers take.” “That money’s got to come up for air at some point.” “I’ll keep an eye out. The other vids on the profile are basic strong-man stuff, starts with bending bars, progresses to ripping the doors off of junked cars and mangling them. I’ll try to match the locations with local junkyards. In all the vids, not much to go on in terms of ID, he wears a balaclava. The tatt in the snuff video isn’t visible in the other vids so it must be new.” “Shaw, you take the tattoo shops.” Shaw flexed a 16” bicep with a busting chain-link tatt over its peak. “Sure, boss, I could use some new ink.” “NOT expensable.” “Aw, you’re no fun.” Hamm airplayed his tablet to the room’s wide-screen. “There is one other vid of interest, from a week ago. Hold onto your breakfast.” Carnitas quickly moved a file folder to cover his crotch as the perp’s ultra-deep voice vibrated the walls. “FLEX THAT MEAT, BITCH” he said from off screen. On camera, a massive redheaded bodybuilder licked cum from his quivering lips and flexed his right arm into what had to be a 25” gun (at least); he was seated against the backdrop of a plain white wall. “AW, YEAH. GET READY TO POP.” “Pop me, Daddy, please! Uhhhhh!” The perp then got so close he must have sat in the big muscle-sub’s lap. The phone camera moved like it was switched to his right hand, and you could then see the perp’s powerfully muscled left arm aligned perpendicular to the redhead’s. Initially the contrast was all in the sub’s favor, his arm was clearly bigger. But then the perp flexed. “Holy shit!” Carnitas swore. A cannonball exploded out of the perps arm and instantly deformed the sub’s muscle into a crescent shape molded to the perfect sphere of the perp’s bicep. “Ahhh… no stop it hurts too much!” cried the sub. “HUH-HUH-HUH, NO TURNING BACK NOW BITCH, WELCOME TO POP CITY.” “I think I’m gonna be sick,” said Lt Flint. Four tough homicide detectives watched as stretch marks bloomed, then tore and a ragged red ball the size of a rump roast popped out of the sub’s arm, splattered against the white wall and dropped out of sight. The poor sub was shrieking in pain but the camera was on the move, the perp reaching down to palm the bloody mass. Thick fingers closed into a fist and squelched the meat into hamburger. “SWEET.” Hamm closed the airplay and they sat in silence for a moment before Shaw spoke. “So? Texas Roadhouse for lunch? Who’s in?” Carnitas shook his head and found his voice. “Perp’s left-handed, started off filming with his left. And that’s gotta be a one-of-kind injury. I’ll tap my sources at the ERs to see where it came in. That poor dude, if he’s still alive, is our best lead.” “Agreed. You team up with Detective Brick from SVU tomorrow and find him.” “Where is that guy? Chuckie said he saw him here.” “Thanks for the reminder to chew you out for being late,” Lt Flint snorted. “But I don’t have the stomach for it right now. You missed him, he had to leave; some emergency. He’s got your number. He’ll text you later. Team dismissed.” As they were leaving, Shaw said: “Stevie, lemme ask you something.” “It’s Steve, you little shi—OOWWW!” Shaw grabbed his hand and cranked his pinky in an agonizing fingerlock, dragging him into the washroom. Shaw shoved Carnitas against the tiled wall hard enough that a few tiles broke under the huge detective’s bulk. He let go of his finger and slipped off his black t-shirt while Carnitas shook out his sore hand. “Stop this, Garrett,” Carnitas mouth went dry as he took in Shaw’s lean, rugged physique, absolutely ripped to the bone. “This is s-sexual harassment in the workplace.” “That right, Stevie? Something about this you find sexual? Interesting.” “I meant—” “We’re just two friends having a conversation right? What’s sexual about that?” Carnitas stared helplessly at Shaw’s muscular pecs, they were definitely meatier and more defined than the last time he saw them, and still had that intensely sexy thatch of blond hair nestled between them. Shaw stepped right up to him, chest-to-chest, or rather, Shaw’s chest to Steve’s upper abs, because of their height difference. “So here’s my question. You think the perp is a Steamroller?” Carnitas scoffed but then paused to consider what was in fact a good question. With the arrival of Double-DBol, there was a backlash against PEDs in the physique industry. Many bodybuilders switched entirely to natural training, saying that athenabol made the sport “too easy”. Steamroller was a mysterious, almost cult-like group, devoted to techniques of boosting testosterone naturally, and developing training methods that prioritized strength, muscle hardness, and tantric-like muscle control. Devotees of Steamroller claimed they could flatten any “lazy-ass Double-DBag” in any fitness challenge, hence the name. Carnitas looked down to see Garrett eyeing his enormous muscle-tits like he wanted to motorboat them in the worst way. “Eyes up here, dickhead.” “Aw, I know exactly where you want my dickhead, Stevie, but we’ll save that for when we’re off the clock seeing as you’re a stickler for HR rules, all of a sudden.” “So you’re asking if a psychopathic killer could be a member of the latest cult? I don’t see why not, but what’s the connection?” “Well, maybe it’s easiest if I show you.” Shaw took another half step forward, and flexed his pecs, pinning Carnitas to the wall. The pressure from below bulged up his muscle-tits like a push-up bra. “Enough,” Steve said, and tried to take a step forward. Shaw didn’t budge. “What the fuck, Garrett? I’m more than twice your weight and you’re not even bracing your legs.” “I know, right? And I only joined Steamroller two weeks ago. I’ve had five, maybe six workouts?” “This is insane.” “You haven’t even seen the best part yet. Now shut up a second this takes some concentration.” Garrett Shaw relaxed his pecs but expanded his chest to take a slow deep breath, then again. As he continued to breathe deeply, an equivalent calm came over Carnitas. The huge cop was astonished to realize that his own breathing was yielding to Shaw’s. He was exhaling when the smaller man inhaled, and inhaling when he exhaled. He tried to reverse this, and found he couldn’t. He started to panic, but this dissipated as he matched Shaw’s strong, muscular heartbeat that was thudding against his sternum like it was giving him CPR. Shaw locked eyes with him, nodding knowingly, and Carnitas was struck by how ruggedly handsome he was, with his square jaw, thick blond stubble already bristly at noon, and intense green eyes. Steve threw an erection so hard it was almost painful. Shaw parted his lips and his voice dripped sex as he intoned: “Let’s go for a ride, baby.” Steve felt a band of steel pinch into the groove between his first and second row of abs. Garrett rolled his pecs from the bottom up and Carnitas slid up the wall like he was riding an elevator.” “Oh fuck, Shaw.” “Pretty sweet, huh? You like all this muscle? I can feel you down here, seems you like it.” “I weigh 450 lbs…” “Really? You seem lighter.” Shaw switched to a pec bounce and his concrete slabs pummeled Steve’s abs, and the force jiggled his muscle-tits like bongos. “Aw fuck, Garrett I’m gonna…” “Hold that thought. So it stands to reason that if I can do this after two weeks, then it’s a good bet our perp is a Steamroller.” “Yes. Awwww….” “And that your handsome friend Garrett is both way smarter and way stronger than you?” “So smart… so strong… so handsome…” “Cool, now back to you, you were saying?” “I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” Shaw stepped back abruptly and Det. Carnitas slumped to the floor in a heap. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘POP’. But not while I’m here, that would be sexual harassment. Go jerk your little dicklet in the stall, Double-DBag,” Shaw cackled as he swaggered out the door. The spell broken, Carnitas limply sat up against the wall, he tried to stifle his breathing to calm his erection. He almost managed it when a tall dark-haired man walked in pulling a sweat-soaked wife-beater over his head. His deep, hairy armpits flooded the room instantly with brutal man-stench. “Eep…” cried Carnitas as a cum-explosion detonated in his crotch. The man turned around and looked down on him. “Who the fuck are you?” said Detective Brick.

The Strongman Part 2 by Shinji86 The crowd's anticipation of what was to come made the room feel like there was electricity in the room. Everyone's eyes are on the stage, watching the assistants getting a dip belt out, and placing plates close to Alexi. “Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready for a display of pure, raw, animalistic power?” The tattooed slut ringmaster asked. “ Well get strapped in. Alexi is about to lift more weight with his cock than anyone in this room could squat” With this the assistants strapped the apparatus around Alexis god cock, then started to load plate after plate onto the chain, they stopped once there were ten thick plates on the chain. “He is going for a new personal best tonight, 10 plates. These are not the usual plates that you would use in your local gym though, these are 50kg Goliath calibrated plates” Audible gasps went around the crowd “That right, that's 500kg, now let's hear some noise and cheer Alexi to get this insane feat” The crowd erupted in cheers of “Come on Alexi” “Let's go” and “Yeah get it”. Alexi placed his arms behind his head and then started to flex. His whole body was straining, abs popping, pens striated to hell, quads tensing looking like an anatomy chart. His face is red with exertion, jaw flexing, neck thickening wider than his head, pipe-like veins running down it into his trap, which are pushing his ears. And then there was his cock, the veins sprouting like tree roots, the whole thing thickening, striations in his pelvis. Legitimate freak show. Then the sound of the plates moving. The crowd became incensed at this, cheering loader, screaming like wild animals. Everyone standing up, men's cocks visibly hard, women tweaking their nipples or rubbing their dripping pussies. Inch by inch, the massive weight was moved by Alexi’s monstrosity. He started screaming and moaning once the cock got three-quarters of the way up. People were openly masturbating to this display of wild masculinity. “FFFUUUUUUCCCCCKKK” Alexi screamed as the cock reached the top of the rep, the phallus pointing directly up in the air. The crowd going insane, screaming, moaning, cumming at the display of insanity. Alexi then flexed a massive double bicep shot, screaming “YYYYYEEEEESSSSSSSS”, cum pumping out of his cock like a firehose, drenching the entire audience.

Arthur spent the whole night with a bunch of hookups, he felt restless, every man filling his hunger for sex more and more, his libido really was extreme, he had to hookup with about 10 guys before his libido left him alone. He went back home and immediatly his phone vibrated as he received a bunch of messages from the guys he fucked, all sounded eager for more later and arthur grinned, maybe that was his ticket to live a normal life, a bunch of hookups, he went to bed and slept, feeling more relieved now. The next morning he got back to work but everything seemed hard, his libido really started to be a pain in the ass or rather… Dick. He tried to repair something but his dick kept getting in the way and his outfit was wet with pre. "Arthur can i see you in my room for a moment ?" Arthur gulped as he went to the boss's office. "I'm truly sorry for what is happening to you but… I don't think we can keep you." His boss said in a rather serious tone. "What ?! No no please, I'll learn to control myself ! I promise !" Arthur panicked. "No, hypers don't tend to be able to control themselves and seeing how your… Appendage keeps getting in the way, we can't keep you, i'm truly sorry" "But…" "Don't make this harder than it has to be, you've been a great employee but we can't have customers complain about you constantly ejaculating inside their cars or anything." Arthur stood up, nodded and went out. "What's up buddy ?" the otter said confused. "I'm fired…" *Oh… I'm sorry for you." "I'll take my stuff and go… Thanks for everything anyway" Arthur said as he went out and got back home. On the other side of the town, an iguana at a local pastry shop put a cake on the counter, his horse intern looked at him weird. "I… Don't see any customers ? Why did you put that cake here ?" "Oh he's coming you'll see him" Said the iguana, crossing his arms. The horse's eyes widen as he saw a brown wolf with a snowflake tatoo on his muzzle, a red and blue vest and a T-shrt with a blue snowflake inside his vest bolt through the door, without stopping a single second, the wolf sent the cake flying through the air, spinned and slapped the money on the counter, caught the cake, bolted through the door and went the other "WHAT ?!" "Say hello to the Brown Blizzard hahaha !" The iguana laughed as he put the money in the cash register. This wolf is Arthur's best friend and adopted brother: Nathan Nathan knows Arthur since their childhood and have always been there for each other ever since, while Arthur is not the fastest of arcanines, Nathan is… incredibly fast, he's an addict of parkouring, as such, everytime he gets the chance he will show off his quick and swift moves. Nathan also really loves to run, in fact as i am narrating, he is running through the town, cake in his arms. Nathan jumped and grinded on a rail then jumped to a window and jumped in front of Arthur's apartment, sighing at the run he just did. Arthur sat on his couch, crushed under his weight and looked at the ceiling, contemplating the fact he may never find a job… Then a knock could be heard and Nathan opened the door. "Sup AR- AH WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN ARTHUR'S HOUSE" Nathan yelled as he looked at the huge arcanine. "BRO, IT'S ME, ARTHUR ! "How can i believe you ?!" Arthur, stood up and showed his lighning marking. "That and also, remember that time you crashed through a wall just to skip a chemistry class ?" "Ha ha good times… WAIT WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU ?!" The wolf said in shock. "Dad just told me, i have some genes in my body, i'm a hyper now" "So you are big and… Muscular aren't you ?" *He approached and groped on his brother's biceps. "Always wanted to know how that felt like." "And my libido is stupid high, i'm currently so pent up" His dick is throbbing wildly. "That sounds great !" Nathan said, with a big smile. "It's. NOT. I just lost my job, what the fuck do i do ?!" Nathan put the cake on the table and sat next to Arthur. "You can alw-" He said before getting cut off by the big arcanine. "No i can't, with this libido i can't do shit" The hyper arcanine said in a pretty angry tone. Nathan cringed a bit at the sight of his best friend and brother being so miserable but then he realized something. Nathan works as a cameraman for a studio called Lengen, a studio that does many kinds of movies and scenes, but also had gay porn , which got him a good grin. "Hmm There Is a job for you…" He said with a smile. "Like what ? Lumberjack ? Construction worker ? Nah none of that will work" Arthur said in a grumpy tone. "Ever wanted to be a porn star ?" "Porn star ?" Arhur's expression changed from miserable to curious. "It just so happens the studio I work at is having trouble as they need porn actors and the cost of viagra and all that is getting too expensive so… What IF ! YOU ! Become a porn actor ?!" Arthur thought about it, He was right, in fact, that seems like the perfect job, getting paid for fucking men while also being able to take care of his libido. "But do I need anything ?" Arthur said, unsure of the offer. "I don't think you will, after all, with that GOD-LIKE BOD of yours, no way they don't pick you !" Nathan said as he pointed at different muscles on his body. "Like those huge biceps or these pecs, abs, those-" "Yeah i get it i get let me get dressed up" Arthur laughed as he stood up. "Wait, how about a bit of relooking ?" "Hm ?" "After all, that overall of yours won't cut it" Nathan points to the mechanic overall Arthur was wearing, all ripped up. "I love it tho ! I love blue" "Hmmm I think we should make you have the image of a proper porn star waddya think ?" Nathan smiles " Hmmm Sure, let's do it" "Cum with me !" Nathan said, giggling. "PLEASE DON'T TEASE ME OR YOUR ASS IS ON THE MENU THIS AFTERNOON !" Arthur said, laughing. Nathan laughed way too hard and went to the clothing store with him. They went inside and went on the aisle for shirts but Nathan noticed his friend, visibly feeling uncomfortable. "What's up buddy ?" Nathan said. "Horny… Like… Fuuuuck" "Is it THAT bad ?" Arthur looked at him then shifted his gaze to his huge erection. "Oh yeah it IS THAT bad ! "How do we deal with this ?" "I-i need to fuck…" The arcanine said, feeling his sexual needs getting stronger. "Uhhh uhhh we could uhhh…" Nathan panicked. "Ok fuck it." Arthur lifted his arms up. "I NEED TO FUCK, WILLING TO FUCK ANYONE, COME AT ME IF YOU WANT" his voice boomed through the whole store and Nathan slowly crouched, blushing. "Oh my fucking god you did not just do that…." He hid his face in embarrassment. "Uh i… I would like to ?" A pretty slim manectric said sheepishly, Arthur didn't hesitate and lifted him up. "Where'd Ya wanna get fucked ?" Manectric pointed to the toilet, blushing. "You, take care of the whole thing and find me some clothes, as for you cutie~. Hope you're ready for the fuck of your life !" He went to the restroom, almost smashing the door. Nathan slowly rose up. "I… I regret every decision of my life that led to this moment…" Nathan started to look for clothes. Arthur pinned the manectric to the wall, making him feel his muscles as he undressed, the manectric touched and licked his abs, the arcanine took off his clothes and pulled in for a kiss, entering his tongue into the moaning manectric. "Alright, with all that pre gushing, don't think I'll need lube with you" He said as he plunged his cock deep into the manectric who screamed in pleasure. The manectric kept screaming as Arthur went hard on him, pounding him as he slightly pulled his whole weight on him against the wall, pinned by the huge abs and pecs of the greek god that Arthur is. The manectric started cumming, screaming so loud that his cries were heard throughout the shop, making Nathan cringe. "You like this you little slut ?!~ You like this arcanine pounding you right ?!~" Arthur groaned as the manectric moaned. "Y-y-yes ! Please destroy me !!!~" He moaned and Arthur's poundings were event stronger, crushing his prostate, making the manectric scream his lung out. Arthur ended up roaring, giving one last thrust as gallons upon gallons of cum came out of his huge appendage, filling the manectric and inflating his belly more and more as some even came out of his mouth. After a few moments, Arthur came out of the toilets and went to his brother. "Feeling better for now but I need to do it again soon so let's be quick." "Bro… never do that again when i'm here, this was the most embarrassing thing ever…" The wolf says still hiding. "What would be worst, a friend about to jizz or your friend calling for a quick fuck ?" "Just not right next to me man, anyway, found you some clothes" Arthur took it and started to dress himself, he came out with a dark blue shirt with a black shirt inside with a lightning bolt and black shorts. "Looking good, you even took a lightning bolt T-shirt like when we were teens" "Hehe ! You still wear yours so fogured i'd wear one too… But umm… You think that's enough ?" "I mean yeah it looks good." Arthur wasn't very convinced, he looked around and noticed a pair of sunglasses, he picked them up and wore them. "How 'bout that ? Always wanted to have some sunglasses !" He flexed with a grin. "You look like a cool surfer !... Or whatever it gives you a cool look. Now, let's pay and get you this job." In the restroom, the fox from last night saw the manectric who now had a huge belly and could barely move. "Got fucked by that Arcanine ?" "Hmmm Yes ?~ How did you know ?" "Just… Guessing" he laughed. Nathan went into the studio and went to his boss's room, his boss was a stoutland named Max Yrstave. His long "mustache" was braided in diamond shape, he had a nice formal suit and a blade was encased in a glass cabinet in the room, the sword covered in a mysterious crystal, the cabinet also having a strange outfit. The Stoutland was finishing a call when Nathan opened the door. "Hey boss, remember when you said you needed a new actor ?" Nathan said, coming over. "Yes ? Why's that ? We need a muscular man for our next porn videos" His boss said, he had a noticeable french accent. "Yes yes I have one, my brother !" "..... You mean that Mecanic you tell me is obsessed with machines and whom you keep calling nerd ?" He said, unsure of Nathan's proposition. Nathan let out an awkward laugh as Arthur peeked his head out of the door. "Really ? Nerd ?" "I'M NOT WRONG" "Whatever you say meep meep" "HEY… BUT anyway, something happened to him not long ago and i'd think you would like it." Arthur wen through the door but had to go sideway to pass through it, Max's eye widened. "Oh my he's huge…" Max muttered as he looked at the arcanine from up to down. "Ahem, welcome, please take a seat mister… Dalen right ?" "Arthur, Arthur Dalen" "Alrght Arthur, any experience as an actor ?" "I do not have any unfortunately but i am eager to learn" *Hmmm mmm, you're a casual at sex ?" Arthur put his arms on the table and approached his head. "If you are scared about me not being suitable in terms of sex, i'm ready to work the minimum wage for each movie i am in, everything so i can let myself free from this raging sex drive or mine and i do mean A-NY-THING to get it under control" Max stood there silent… "This libido is troubling you ?" "I lost my job because of it bu-" "You are hired, here in Lengen we are built around on thing." He approched his head to Arthur. "Second chances, they couldnlt handle you as a mecanic ? Well welcome as our new Porn actor and handyman." "HANDYMAN ?" "You will be paid to do sex but also to work as our repairman slash handyman, you will repair broken cameras, equipement, etc…" "I… Wow, I don't know what to say…" "I'm sure that you will also ensure a bright future to the studio… If you are successful which… Considering all of those features… Will likely happen. You will be paid handsomely and the studio will gain lots of money and traction" Max said with a sly smile. "Thank you ummm…" "Mister Yrstave. Now go to room B so we can start the filming ! No need for viagra to start, i'm guessing" Arthur shook his head and went to room B almost rushing. "Look at him go" Nathan laughed. "Nathan, back to work…" Max said in a serious tone as he ran toward Room B. Both entered the room, the cameraman started to say hi to Arthur but he did not care and went for the bed where a slim leopard was sitting, Nathan took anotherf position to film. "Name's Arthur and i'm your hook up for now" The cameramen started their cameras and Arthur immediately took off his clothes as well as the leopard, Max arrived and looked pissed as he saw the filming start without his saying but then he saw Arthur. Arthur's dick was throbbing, the leopard's jaw dropped. "Want a taste of it ?! Then suck it !" The leopard started to lick the arcanine's huge appendage, drinking some of the precum hungrily. "Good boy, you know your place, suck me dry ! Lemme fill you till you blow up !" The Leopard increased his pace which had the arcanine groan, Max liked the sight, not only was this incredibly erotic but he knew this was perfect for the studio. The more the leopard's movement increased the less Arthur had control over himself and something weird happened with his body. "YES, SUCK THAT HUGE DICK LEMME SHOW YOU WHO'S THE ALPHA HERE" Everyone's eyes widened as they saw that incredible mountain of muscle grow, his muscles started growing, he quickly rose from 2.1 meter to 2.7 and soon 3 meters, the belly started to heavily groan as he took on more mass and size. Arthur put his cock inside of the leopard's mouth who's gagged a bit, his dick being bigger than the Leopard's body, he moaned hard as Arthur wildly fucked his mouth. "YES, MOAN FOR ME, TAKE THIS." Arthur roared as Gallons of cum violently came out of his dick, the Leopard's belly quickly getting fat, the bed cracking and crumbling under their weights. "HMMMMM !!~" The Leopard screamed Arthur kept cumming and roaring as the leopard grew fatter and fatter. As Arthur finished, he went back to 2.1 meters and the leopard's belly pushed him a bit. "What the ?! Arthur you grew for a moment ?" "Uh ?" Arthur looked at himself, confused and looked back at Nathan and Max. "You were growing ! You were like 3 meter tall" Nathan exclaims, surprised. "Really ?..." Arthur looked in front of him then was lost in his thoughts… He then concentrated and he started to grow again. "Man this… Fellow is quite the interesting one" Max said, Arthur hit the ceiling at a surprising height of 5 meters tall. "..... You don't like it don't you ?" The stoutland looked at Arthur's discomfort and watched him shrinking back to his original size. "That's fine but… I don't think i'll do that often, I don't wanna be unfair… But if i can destroy someone's ass…" He changed his gaze towards the guy he just fucked and winked which made him wag his tail and blush. And this… Is the start of a new porn star and his name is Arthur Dalen.

Chapter 2 i turned around to see a new fire in dad’s eyes smiled and called the number. “Hello this is priapus-tec the one stop shop for any man looking for a boost” said the voice on the other end sounding somewhat annoyed. “We heard you guys are looking for volunteers for a new product well me and my father would like to sign up” after a few moments of silence “names ages and city you live in so we can find the location closest to you” “Ray jarlio 23 St. Paul and Ryan jarlio 39 same city” i said “And when is the earliest you could come in” “tomorrow” “we will send you the closest location through text see you tomorrow” The location was a block away from were we lived convenient. We packed up quickly and flew back that night. The next morning i was dragged out bed by dad into the facility. ”ray and Ryan I assume” said huge man at the desk his clothes barley contain him “ just sign here here and here initial there and your good to go” he collects the paper work “head down the hallway second door to your right” as he points his shirt rips “dammit” he mutters ”holy shit I wonder if we’re gonna get that big” i say “ imma try to make sure we get bigger” dad said. The doctor was even more massive 6”7 openly wearing a doctors coat showing off his massive pecs and some shorts that did nothing to hide his cock. “Damn it seems like he’s soft but that’s gotta Be 10 inches” I felt my pants get tight as my own 9 inches reached full mast the doctor chuckles “thanks for the salute boy but both of you need to strip” the doctor jots down some basic stats and takes some pictures ray 23 6’3 230 a mix of fat and muscle dick 9 inches Ryan 39 6 feet exactly 255 mostly fat 8 inch Dick “ray your getting product 2” injecting me with a blue liquid and “Ryan your getting product 1” injecting him with a green liquid . “These target different parts of the body you should see results by tomorrow morning once a few weeks pass you will get the other version here is your room number 2400” the doctor says calmly. “we are staying here?” I say wishing he read the contract better. “Yep full room and food will be covered by the company to ensure maximum results also both of you will receive a large payment and possibly a position in the company but I would recommend you both read any contracts you get moving forward “ the doctor jokes ”now for the formula to take full effect you two will have a large meal and work out till nightfall also ray here is the key to the “relief room” sounds weird but you’ll probably need it” After managing to eat the mountain of protein put in front of me I struggled with my workouts. My cock never softened after the shot it was feeling more sensitive than normal it was blissful torture doing any workout and by the end of it I coudnt hold back cumming more than i ever had before. Dad on the other hand was doing great being able to lift much heavier weights than he should be able to but what shocked me more was new guy was here pushing dad to put even more weights on. It was ridiculous how Much dad was lifting but he wasn’t even focused on the workout just focusing on new guy it went on for hours dad never even noticed till the end were he was struggling to move proud but shocked at how much he lifted so decided to call it early there. New guy helped him back to his room Dad passed out quickly to tired to do Much else while I coudnt sleep it felt like my balls were going ti burst so I went to the relief room. a mostly normal room other than the relief machines (basically giant advanced mechanical flesh lights) he felt so awkward doing this but he needed sleep he put it in “calculating: ten inches long 5 thick” the machine said . That’s not right he thought before it fully turned on feeling like it was sucking his Soul out he came quickly but it seems he didn’t have much of a refractory period anymore “what is happening to me “ he muttered as he came again this went on for an hour till it seemed his Dick was satisfied he passed out in his new bed. the next morning ray woke up to 2 big surprises his Dick grew 5 inches as he slept a 15 inch cock was throbbing in front of him he looked over at his father making him cum on the spot. All the fat was gone his fathers body replaced by an equal amount of muscle. Ray couldn’t even move as his orgasm rocked his body. in another room the doctor laughed “I knew these two were the right choice for our more extreme versions”

POSING WITH LOVE AND HEART ( or: A birthday gift from the heart) Hello, everyone! DawnFire98 here. Wrote a little something. What’s included? Heartbeats and muscular dudes, my two favorite things. This took way longer than I expected (might have been two years). It’s not perfect at all, but it’s done. Also: English isn’t my first language. So, if you guys have any tips (pertaining either the story or language like grammar, tense, or spelling) write me in the comments. Feedback/Constructive criticism is welcome. But without further ado: to the story! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * “Come on, you’ve got this! Six more reps!” “ARGH!” “Again!” “URGH!” “One more!”, Milo encourages. Duke snarls and pulls the cables forward. Pecs explode into a writhing mass of veins and thick muscle fibers. “Three…two…one!” “Shit!”, yells Duke, and the weight stacks of the cable crossover machine crash down with a loud clang. Tipping his head back in exhaustion, the shirtless bodybuilder closes his eyes and gropes the burning slab of beef he calls “pec muscle”. His heart slams relentlessly against the palm of his hand. A smile forms on his lips. He loves it. The veins throbbing under his tight skin. Blood rushing through his ears. Sweat running down his back. And all that for his sweet honey pie Milo. This late evening, the two are alone in Duke’s home gym. Today was Milo’s 23rd birthday, so they threw a little birthday party with their best friends. After the guests left, Duke (older by one year) lured him into their little oasis of iron and announced, that he had a surprise for him. Now, “Big Bear” pumps himself up as part of his own personal gift. “Awesome job, man!”, applauds Milo and gives him a towel. “Fuck, that was a good workout!”, pants Duke and wipes the sweat off his face, his black buzz cut twinkling under the lights. The strawberry blond leans towards his boyfriend and rubs the giant’s shoulders. “And it was nice to look at, too.” Feeling the solid mass under his fingers makes his dick judder. With a hungry smile, Duke places his huge paws on the shorter guy’s butt. Pulling him closer, he growls: “What do you say? Ready for your gift?” “Yes…” Getting sucked into dark eyes, Milo hugs the big bear’s bulging traps and strokes his neck. It doesn’t matter that Duke is hot and sweaty or that his musk surrounds him like a cloud. Being so close to his massive hunk always sends him to cloud nine. Eager hands trail down a heaving, furry, barrel-like chest. One simple flex turns squishable beef into solid rock. Usually, Milo would bury his face in the big guy’s pec ravine and lick every inch of it. And yet, he knows something even hotter. Letting his fingers wander lower, he stops underneath the overhang of Dukes left pec, right between his ribs. And there he feels it: the big bear’s enormous heart, shaking his chest with each forceful beat. Sometimes, Milo wishes he possessed x-ray vision so he can see how the heart muscle works. But for now, his sense of touch would suffice. Duke leans down towards his lover’s ear and whispers: “If I hadn’t planned this surprise a few days ago I would do you right here on this bench.” Milo shudders as something long and thick rubs against his thigh. But before he can say anything, his lovely boyfriend heaves him over his boulder-shoulder. “Next stop: our bedroom!”, Duke exclaims, as he carries him through the door and upstairs. “Let me down, you goofball!”, Milo protests under laughter. “Sorry, but you’re just too cute”, the giant says after putting the birthday boy down, and kisses him. Milo presses his lips against Dukes. “So, what’s the big surprise?”, he asks and sits down on the edge of the bed. But Duke stays quiet and positions himself in front of it. With a sly grin, the beast of a man pulls a little, red disc out of his shorts. Two short black ribbons stick out on the sides. At first glance, you would mistake it for a watch or a toy. Milo’s jaw drops. Mesmerized, he watches how the off-season bodybuilder places the equipment under his left pec. “H-How did you…get this?”, he stammers. “Had a favor to cash in”, Duke answers absentmindedly while tapping away on his phone. The little red speaker next to him chimes. He looks up with a grin. His honey pie has no idea, what he’s about to get into. “You are so going to love this.” BA-DUMP, BA-DUMP, BA-DUMP, BA-DUMP. Loud and deep thumps echo through the room. Milo’s neck hair stands up at the sound. His eyes widen. “Fuck me sideways.” Duke chuckles, as he pulls down his black gym shorts to reveal night blue posing trunks. “Maybe later.” With a thick finger, he points towards Milo. “Happy birthday, my love. This is for you.” Slowly, the bodybuilder raises his arms and flexes. Monumental arms explode into beefy, hard mountains. The biceps? Solid rocks. Pencil-thick veins spread out across thick, hairy forearms like spiderwebs. One of the veins climbs up the right bicep peak before plunging into the bulging mass of the anterior delt. The red-blond pinches his wrist. No, this isn’t a dream – this is really happening. His most personal fantasy coming to life. To hear that bloodpump work in real-time is surreal. “What gave you the idea for this?”, Milo wants to know. Duke relaxes the pose. “Every time we watch bodybuilding competitions, your eyes light up”, he huffs. “So why not give you a personal show, one-on-one?” Accompanied by the constant thud of his heart, he sets his hands on his hips. As he takes in a deep breath, his chest shelf bumps against his chin. Solid lats stretch out further and further. It’s like watching a flower bloom. “You always say this is one of my best poses”, Duke comments. “It still is”, the redhead mutters under his breath with rosy cheeks and his dick throbs in agreement. Making a quarter turn to the right, Duke slides into his next pose: the Side Chest and Biceps Pose. He clenches his hands together next to his waist. Pecs don’t just flex; they blow up into mounds of hard beef. Lifting the heel of his foot? BAM! Calves hard as diamonds. Instantly, his heart thumps harder against his ribs. Looking down, he sees his left pec surging forward with every beat. BA-DUPP, BA-DUPP, BA-DUPP, BA-DUPP! “Fuck yeah!”, Duke hisses and throws a cheeky grin at his audience. But how can he tease him even more? Suddenly, his chest bounces in time with the massive ticker powering his whole body. The effect is immediate. “Ughn…SHIT!” Before Milo knows it, precum spills into his grey shorts. His mind goes back to the night he told Duke about his fetish. Third time they had sex, both of them in bed. To this point, the college student didn’t tell anyone about his fascination with buff guys and their gigantic, strong hearts. The fear of losing his newfound love wrecked him. But instead of being weirded out, Duke reacted understanding and enthusiastic. “UFFF!” A sharp exhale snaps Milo out of the memory. Burly hills and valleys spread out and transform into the hairy wall that is Duke’s back. Milo’s legs tense, ready to jump up. To carry him towards his Hercules, so he can run his hands over every inch of that godly body. But where would he even begin? Should he knead the traps first? Or massage his lats? How would the ginger even be able to walk with that boner? Not knowing what to do, he clenches the bed sheets. The dark-haired stud looks over his hulking shoulder. “Do you like your birthday gift so far?”, he purrs as he lifts his arm in a one-armed Rear Biceps Pose. Milo’s lips only let out a hoarse “Yes…”. Turning around and looking over towards his red-blonde Adonis, Duke notices him clenching the sheets. Once his eyes veer down further, the big bear’s smile widens. He made him do this! Knowing that sends a jolt of arousal through his dick. Placing his two bazookas behind his head, Duke crunches his body together in an Abs and Thighs Pose. Six cinderblocks, stacked on top of each other, fight their way through the slight layer of fat. Then, there are those legs. Those big, hairy legs. “Columns of power”, as Milo loves to call them. Teardrop-shaped quads bulge into all four directions. Even if they don’t possess the craziest definition, they’re overflowing with mass. “And now, for the big finale!”, Duke bellows. Roaring silently, the big man leans forward and squeezes his vein-covered arms together in front of his waist. Trap muscles rise but stop just two hairs short of tickling his ears. Pecs surge into a tsunami of muscle, while the core stays tight. Veins run over the kegs, that are Dukes quads and calves, like drops of beer over a cold glass. Meanwhile, the hard-working cardiac muscle gives its best performance. BADUPPBADUPPBADUPP! The muscles. The veins. The heartbeat. It’s all too much. Milo pulls his dick out of his shorts just in time, before he topples over the edge. “OH FUCK!” Everything goes white. Bursts of cum spray out of the birthday boy’s dick, as he convulses in euphoria. Sparks of pleasure light up his body, before he falls back on the bed. As he comes back to life, he pants: “Best birthday gift ever!” Duke laughs, his arms crossed over his chest. “Glad you enjoyed it. But now I need a shower.” He stops at the door, his hairy back glistening from the sweat. “Wanna come?” Milo looks down at his soaked shorts and blotches of cum on his tank top. “…Yup.” And so, the bear and his honey pie wander into the bathroom, as their night of lust comes to an end. THE END

Hey Kyle18, The story is nearly written in its entirety because I want to post it without such long breaks between. The next chapter is done and edited but I told people I wouldn't post until it was complete on my end ...and this is what I have been occupying my time lately - Ive got my hands full It will be posted soon though.