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Hey Y'all first time posting, I've got a couple chapters done of this story, hope yall like it! While sitting in art class I found myself unable to look away from Vinny Lorenzo’s ass. He was a goofy jock with a bold Mediterranean nose. He didn’t take the class seriously, just a place to goof around with his friends. His back faced me as he stood joking around with his buddies, and his cute butt creased the fabric of his Nike sweatpants. I had a perfect view from the table behind him, in a spot where I could make furtive glances without looking far from my clay sculpture project. He wore a white T-shirt, which revealed his slim waist when he lifted his arms; it seemed to make his ass look even better. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. I love the tall jockish guys. Doesn’t matter what sport they play: football, baseball, wrestling, swim, they’re all just different flavors of eye-candy. Vinny played football or something, at least I think that’s the group he hangs with. His sport gifted him with wide shoulders, big arms, and a meaty pair of jugs. “Wait, wait let me see,” Vinny leaned over his friend to look at their phone, and the white brim of his boxers peeked over his waistband. Things like that are so sexy to me. My dick got hard under the table, I scooted farther underneath to hide the stiffy in my jeans. I felt myself enter a state of laser focus, the world around Vinny’s ass blurred out of view. His cheeks began to take up more room in his joggers; it was working. I felt myself get even harder. I rubbed my cock up against the underside of the table. With each tingle of pleasure, my influence made his rear swell larger. He jerked his head back, laughing at the video on his friend’s phone. Falling backwards, he bumped his fat ass into my table, jostling the clay mug in front of me. I grunted as the edge of the table slammed against the bottom of my belly, and squashed my dick. “Woah, sorry,” he said with a chuckle, receiving scoffs from the others at my table. He walked back to his cackling friends, and I watched as his once slightly baggy pants now clung to his meatier legs. The crease of his ass was no more, as the material was now stretched taut between the pure density of his cake. It was so fucking huge, that thing started to cast a shadow over his thighs. And then, he flexed it. The cheeks bunched up toward the center, pinching the tight gray fabric, then parted like the red sea, and I swear it jiggled before returning to rest. I was so horned up, that I let my influence get carried away. He literally surged larger in that moment, in all directions with a low, sexy grunt that turned all the heads toward him. His white T-shirt now clung close to his beefier torso, pulled extra tight around his armpits and meaty shoulders. The hem of his shirt now hovered juuust shy of his belly-button, displaying the soft treasure trail on his abs. Now I’d like to shed light on something I haven’t brought up enough yet: Vinny’s ass. It was so huge now, that I could make out where the seam down his crack was beginning to split. Those poor pants looked painted on to that man's lower body. I was in disbelief, he must have gained ten pounds in that second alone. I saw his friend’s eyes lower to Vinny’s junk. “Woah, dude,” he said with a laugh. “You should go take care of that monster before someone gets hurt.” Vinny let out a goofy chuckle, and turned toward the teacher, revealing his front to me. His pecs now stretched the shirt into a uniboob, the only other landmarks on the curved surface were his erect nipples. I brought my gaze down to the pièce de résistance. His thick cucumber cock reached over half way down his thigh, clearly visible through the tight gray material. Slack jawed, I raised my gaze to his thicker neck, which added to his heavy masculine jaw. I looked at his eyes, and realized they were staring right into mine. A wave of pink washed over me as his sleepy brown eyes lusted for me, with an expression of gluttonous desire. Then he blinked and jiggled his head, like he returned to reality. “Miss B.,” he shouted. “Can I go to the little boys’ room?” He grabbed the hall pass, and sauntered toward the bathroom, his head noticeably closer to the top of the door frame. I felt embarrassed as all eyes watched their freshly beefed-up classmate leave the room, with an ass you could balance a cup on. He didn’t seem to mind though, as he swaggered through the room with the sound of stretching fabric following his thickened body through the door.

One day, Hank and Joe were hanging out at the barn. Sam was at work, and Kurt had gone to Florida to cover spring training. Joe had been getting some good workouts in, and had gained ten pounds of muscle and had new veins popping up all over, despite the fact that between his sets, he had to do Hank’s bidding, like adding plates to his bars, or stripping plates off for drops sets, or wiping Hank’s sweat off the benches, or sucking Hank’s big dick. Pretty much anything Hank demanded, otherwise Joe would get tossed around the barn like a pinball. Because, in the same amount of time that Joe gained ten pounds, Hank had gained forty, and was now up to 298. Not that Joe minded giving the blow jobs. He was convinced that the big dude’s jizz was what was making him grow so fast. Once, after he worked out, he was flexing his 16” arm in the mirror. He saw Hank walk over. “Look,” said Joe proudly, “I got muscle now, too.” He did have a pretty nice peak rising up. Hank reached out and put his index finger on the peak and his thumb underneath, then he squeezed. Joe yelped and tried to free his arm, but Hank’s grip was too strong. He squeezed harder, and Joe crumpled to his knees. “Now you got pulp,” the brawny arm wrestler said. “And since you’re already down there…”. Then he made Joe blow him. Hank had found an old tractor out behind the barn, and he ripped the big back tires off so they could flip them across the property. So far, Joe had trouble flipping them more than a few times, but Hank would squat down next to one on his mighty haunches, then send the tire flipping over and over, some fifty yards, with one powerful thrust. Sometimes a tire would end up crashing into the woods at the edge of the property. Hank would send Joe down to retrieve it, and Joe would struggle to upright the tire, then roll it back up the grassy field as the tire wobbled and twisted on the uneven ground. Joe would be heaving for breath and drenched in sweat by the time he got the tire back up to the barn, but he was building core strength and leg power in leaps and bounds. On this day, Hank picked up a tire, whirled around with it and tossed it like a discus. The tire sailed thru the air like a flying saucer, smashing into the woods, splintering saplings into kindling. “Ho, yeah, did you see that?”crowed Hank, flexing his arms, then spreading his huge lats, turned on by his own strength. “Now go fetch it up,” he said to Joe, smacking him on the back of his head, sending him stumbling. Joe took off down the hill, rubbing his head. Getting the tractor tire out of the undergrowth of the woods was no easy task. By the time he managed that, then rolled it up the hill, he was exhausted and covered with brambles. This was his sixth retrieval of the day. He plopped down to the ground. Hank came over and said, “Now look what you done, you got the tire all muddy. Hose it off.” Joe looked up at Hank, then over at the hose that on the side of the barn. He crawled over to it, turned it on, then got to his feet and walked back to the tire. He squeezed the nozzle and water came out in a jet stream, but instead of directing it towards the tire, he turned it right at Hank’s face. He sprayed and sprayed, and as Hank put his hands up to block the jet stream, Joe stopped, his heart pounding a mile a minute. Hank dropped his hands to his sides and made them into huge menacing fists. The cold water made his skin tighten across his deeply defined muscles. His pecs swelled out with rage and looked hard as titanium. Even his nips hardened up, as if looking for revenge, as water dripped off them. “Oh, you are one little dead fuck. Hope you’re ready for a real long enema.” As Hank took a step forward and grabbed the hose from him, Joe took off running to the woods. He heard what sounded like a rhino coming after him. Joe headed to the nearest big tree he could find, and clambered up it, his ten years of gymnastics aiding his efforts. He climbed up to a branch that was well out of Hank’s reach. He looked down as Hank reached the base of the tree. It was a big oak tree, the trunk sturdy and thick, but when Hank slammed into it with the calloused palms of his angry hands, the whole tree shook. He slammed into it again and acorns fell all around him. “You think you’re safe up there, grasshopper? Guess again,” Hank said with a snarl. He wrapped his huge arms around the trunk and started tugging. At first, the trunk barely moved, but after each powerful yank, it inched more and more, first one way, then the other. The skin on Hank’s massive back grew ruddy from the effort. He snorted as he pushed and pulled the mighty trunk. Tree bark crumbled under his arms, his muscles harder than the wood itself. The ground rolled as ancient roots began to tear thru the hard clay soil. Joe climbed higher up the tree as the branches began to sway as if in a hurricane or an earthquake. With demonic strength, Hank lifted the tree upward and began to trudge with it, out of the woods, ripping out more and more root with every powerful step. Joe lost his footing, but clung to a branch above him, his body flopping around like a monkey’s. Hank muscled the tree out of the woods with his 34” quads, then let it go crashing down onto the field. He stood over the fallen oak like it was his conquered prey. He reached out and grabbed the thickest old root, which was sticking straight up in front of him. The root was so hardened by age that even an ax wouldn’t cut thru it, but Hank snapped it in two like it was a stalk of celery. He squeezed it in his hand until the root pulverized and oozed thru his fingers like grits. Meanwhile, Joe was trying to scramble his way out of tree, but the branches trapped him in like a misshapen birdcage. Hank ripped the branches apart as he made his way to him. Hank reached in thru the tree’s canopy, grabbed Joe by the arm and roughly yanked him out. He ripped his clothes off him, then dragged him up to the hose and sprayed him down. Then he hosed himself off and dragged Joe back to the fallen tree trunk. He bent him over the thick trunk. “I been saving that virgin ass for a special occasion, and I reckon this is good enuf,” Hank said, as he stroked himself hard with one hand, and pinned Joe down with the other. Then he went to work on him.

This is a story which I posted on the wrong section (archive). Rome is a collegiate athlete. For the last 3 years of his college life, he has been training hard and it really shows. At 22, 6'3 and 250 lbs, he has a body that rivals those big YouTubers you see online. This body of his earned him the title of team captain of the football team. Not only that, with his fair skin, thick eyebrows, and thick brown hair, he is deemed as the campus' heartthrob. One night, after training and working out with his team, Rome really had the urge to fuck someone. After cockily putting his body on display to the team in the shower room, he put on some baggy pants and a tight black tank top that showcases his thick arms and really highlights his huge chest. He decided he'll go to the bar and pick a fuck buddy for the night. After all, he could get anyone with his looks. Arriving at the club, his body alone is already enough to get him looks and turns. On his third drink, someone sat next to him. "That one's on me!", the man said. Rome looked and saw a short Asian man. The man looked young, almost like a college freshman. At around 5'5, Rome dwarfs this guy. "Aren't you a little too young to be here?", Rome asks with a smirk. "Haha I'm 21, today's actually my birthday, see?" the man replies, showing Rome his ID. "Hmm, so your name's Evan." Rome said, returning Evan's ID to him. "What do you want from me?" Rome then asks. "I always see you at the campus gym, and frankly, you really turn me on. What do you say we hit it up?" Evan says with a smile. "I don't think you can handle me." Rome replies, once again with a smirk. "Come on, you know you wanna do this. Besides, I can give you an experience of a lifetime." Evan teases, touching Rome's arms. Rome really wanted to release his load tonight, so he reluctantly agrees. Evan brings Rome to his dorm. They both take off their clothes. Rome strips down, revealing his powerful body and his 10 inch cock. Evan takes his jacket off, showing a skin tight white shirt, revealing some definition in his body. He's not big by any means, probably 135 lbs, but he's got some definition. He then removes his pants, revealing his own 4 incher. Just as he was about to take off his shirt, Rome cannot wait and pulls him to the bed and started fucking him. Evan was caught by surprise. But his moans and groans of pain turned into moans of pleasure as he sees the view while he's getting rammed. "Ugh fuck, you're so hot!" Evan said as reaches and caresses Rome's pecs. His hands explore Romes torso. "Ugh, dude you're gonna make me cum!" he replied back. Rome posed a double bicep and showed off his bulging arms to Evan. He's so big that it turned Evan on even harder. "You're so hot man- ughh! Sh-shit! Ughh!" Evan cums to the sight of Rome's flexing. Evan's cum shot up to Rome's mouth as he was moaning harder. "Ughhh fuck I'm gonna cu- UGHHH!" Rome moans and whimpers as he ejaculates into Evan's ass. Cum fills Evan after load after load is released by Rome. All while Evan continues to rub Rome's muscles. "Ugh fuck that was good" Rome pulls his cock out. Their moans die down and all that's left are their heavy breathing. "My turn..." Evan says. "What?" Rome confusely asks. “I'm gonna fuck you now, baby," Evan said while Rome licks his lips. "And I'll make sure you feel every inch of my cock." "Huh? You? What w-" Rome cockily says before getting interrupted. Evan grabbed Rome by the waist and pushed him down onto the bed, switching their position. Rome cockily chuckles, looking at Evan's 4 inch cock compared to his own 10 incher. "What are you gonna do, huh?" Rome cockily teases while flexing his muscles in front of Evan's scrawny frame. Rome's 6'3, 250 lbs frame completely dwarfs Evan's 5'5, 135 lbs. Evan ignores Rome's teases and grabbed the base of his 4 inch shaft and started pumping in and out of Rome's tight hole. The feeling of having another man's cock inside his body made him moan louder than ever before. "Fuck yeah, baby! You're so fucking hot!" Evan moaned as he continued to pound Rome's ass. "Ughhh! Dude what the fuc- ugh" Rome moans as he feels Evan's cock throbbing inside his ass. "Oh god, oh god, oh god!" Evan moans as he continues to thrust his cock deep inside Rome's ass. "Ughhh shit!" Rome moans loudly as he felt Evan's cock pulsating inside his ass. "Ughhhhh! Oh god, I'm gonna cum!" Evan moans as he starts to spurt his load all over Rome's insides. "Ughhh! Ughhh! Ughhh!" Rome moans as he feels Evan's cock spurting his seed inside his ass. Evan smiles, knowing a step of his plan has been enacted. After a few minutes of rest, they both got up from the bed and went for a shower together. They were still naked and their dicks were hard. They both got into the shower and began to wash each other, Rome not knowing Evan's plan. While showering, Evan kneels in front of Rome. "Okay, here goes nothing," Evan thought to himself. He grabbed Rome's dick and started sucking it like a pro. "Mmmmmm, mmmmm!" Rome moans as he feels Evan's tongue sliding along his shaft. "Oh fuck, ughh!" Rome moans as he grabs Evan's head and pushes it deeper onto his dick. "Ughhh! Mmmmmm!" Evan moans as he continues to suck Rome's cock. "Damn, you're really good at this!" Rome moans as he starts to feel his orgasm building. "Ughhh! Fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Rome moans as he starts to shoot his load into Evan's mouth. "Mmmmmm!" Evan moans as he swallows Rome's load. "Mmppphhhh!" Rome moans as he feels his cock spasm and start to spew more cum into Evan's mouth. "Fuuuck! Mmmmm!" Evan moans as he keeps swallowing Rome's load. But Evan continues to suck even harder. "Ughhh! Fuck! I'm cumming again! Okay, enough..." Rome moans as he continues to pump his load into Evan's mouth. "Mmmmmm!" Evan moans as he continues to swallow Rome's load. He continues to suck HARDER. "Man, I said enough..." Rome whimpers. But Evan sucks harder. Rome starts to feel a bit weak. "No, I said stop!" Rome whimpers. But Evan keeps sucking harder. "UGHHHHH! FUCK PLEASE! STOP!" Rome screams. "ugh I'm cumming again!" Rome yells as he shoots his load into Evan's mouth. "Mmmmmm!" Evan moans as he continues to forcefully suck Rome's load out. Rome tries to push Evan away, but to his surprise, Evan is not moved by this. He seems stronger "Mmmmmmm!" Evan moans as he continues to suck Rome's load out. He feels himself getting bigger and stronger. Evan starts feeling his arms and chest be filled with more mass as he swallows more of Rome's seed. "Ughhhh, dude please!" Rome cries out in pain as he feels his cock spasm and start to spew his load into Evan's mouth. "Mmmmmm!" Evan moans as he continues to swallow Rome's load. Evan feels his cock grow an inch or two, he also feels Rome's shrink in his mouth. "Ughhh! Ughhh! AAAAAAAAH!" Rome screams as he feels his cock spasm and shoot his load into Evan's throat. Evan swallows it all and stops. Evan then stands, looking Rome in the eye. Rome opens his eyes and notices how he isn't looking down at Evan that much anymore. "Fuck dude, that was hot!" Evan breaks the silence. Rome is still too stunned to speak. Rome begins looking at Evan's body, noticing how muscled Evan is. Evan then proceeds to inspect his now 8 inch cock and brags about it to Rome, "Wow, this is huge, thanks for that!". Rome looks at his own cock and sees his shrunken 6 incher, also noticing his own body. "WHAT THE FUCK?! MY COCK! M-MY BODY!"

CHAPTER 2 Timmy’s eyes were indiscreetly glued to the handsome massively muscular bodybuilder lifting at his condo’s gym. When Biff started another set, Timmy almost bumped into a fellow gym-goer as he stared with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. The stud had to be in the upper 200’s in weight, Timmy thought. His beautiful muscular size and extraordinarily ripped condition excited him more than he had ever felt for anyone in his life. He adjusted his quickly tenting dick, and before he embarrassed himself, he slunk to the locker room to change. He remembered the athletic muscular bullies from high school and what they would do to him when he was caught staring at them. Timmy knew that the prudent move to make, when he went back into the gym, was to get his head out of this muscle-fueled daze and try fighting his enormous attraction to Biff. It took exactly one second and he was back to his pulse racing at the thought of just seeing more of the bodybuilder again. It was impossible to fight, and he just enjoyed it way too much. As he came back in and headed for the treadmills, he saw that Biff was at the water fountain, bent over and slurping water into his god-like physique. Timmy’s daze was of course now back, and, though he was not at all thirsty, he walked up to be next in line, pretending that he needed a drink as well. Now close-up, with each ripple of muscle that Timmy witnessed, the stud was just oozing sex and power. His back muscles flexed in the smallest of actions, and his triceps, so lean and bulgy with beautifully shaped horseshoes/croissants, danced to Timmy’s feasting eyes. And Biff’s glutes were easily seen dimpling through the tight shorts that he wore. There was absolutely no evidence of any body fat anywhere on Biff’s physique. Being so close to such muscle-perfection, there was no way Timmy’s trance was going away anytime soon. This led his obsession to fantasizing about touching the exquisite handsome bodybuilder and worshiping every inch of his physique. Biff would flex for him, and then Timmy would kiss and lick each bulging muscle. With Biff taking so long at his drinking, it then allowed the muscle-worshiper to take his fantasy to an even higher level, where he was then sucking the gorgeous bodybuilder’s big dick. Timmy’s penis was again fully erect and leaking and it very obviously now tenting his pants with a wet spot. He needed to put his hands nonchalantly over his crotch to hide it. And all of this occurred in just about a minute after getting in line! Biff finally finished drinking and stood up to his full height. Timmy felt short as he looked straight into Biff’s defined striated delts. He realized that he had under-estimated the bodybuilder’s size earlier, and that the stud had to be closer to a height of maybe 6’5”. Biff then turned around with water dripping off his succulent lips and falling onto his muscle-stretched very tight shirt, wetting his sensuously bulging solid pectorals. The muscle god looked down at Timmy, and, seeing the daze that he was in, quickly sized up the handsome skinny older guy as a very seriously-obsessed muscle-admirer. Biff then casually and seductively danced his pecs just a little for the awestruck Timmy as he enjoyed the reaction that he knew he was responsible for. He saw his admirer had even trouble breathing, as he was so sexually charged. Timmy had turned red and froze, partly in reactive fear remembering back to his school experiences. But the bodybuilder’s thoughts were correct, it was caused mostly by Timmy’s lust for his muscle, and Biff was now so close to him. As Biff sexily touched his now wet pectorals with his gym-trained hand, he said in a deep voice looking down at Timmy, “Sorry I took so long. It’s all yours now, little boy.” Timmy still couldn’t respond, and Biff, amused at his handsome admirer’s extreme reaction to him, then strutted back to his bench to continue his lifting. When Timmy finally came down to earth, he realized how enormously thrilled he was that Biff had even actually talked to him! “And he called me his ‘little boy,”’ Timmy thought. “Oh my god, what an amazing encounter with the new Mr. America. And he’s so tall and handsome also.” Timmy stumbled to the water fountain and feigned drinking for a little while, then quickly got to a place with the best view. And he indeed found one on a treadmill facing his heartthrob. Timmy watched Biff’s flexing muscles as he lifted tremendous pounds, rep after rep with dozens of sets. He watched as Biff’s muscles grew more massive and ripped with his pump. His biceps peaked like two Mount Everests before then relaxing each time. Timmy loved the beautiful split in each bicep, and knew they’d tape easily in the mid-twenties. He would have paid the stud just to tape them for him. At one point, when Timmy was furtively glancing at Biff, the muscle stud caught him. Timmy quickly looked away red-faced and then pretended to text someone on his phone. He was torn between wanting to be coy and not get caught, but then he would miss out on the muscle-show, versus wanting to eye-fuck this ultimate muscle-fantasy as much as he could for future wanks. Each flex from Biff would be worth one more masturbatory ejaculation for Timmy in the future. After a while, a small crowd had started to gather around the bodybuilder as he put more weight on the bar and the loud clanking and slamming of the weights drew much attention. Timmy was now able to full-time watch too, knowing that it was now safe to be with all these other people there as well. When else could he get the chance to see someone THAT spectacularly muscular and so close up? Timmy got off his treadmill and tried to count how much weight Biff had on the bar, but he kept losing track because there were so many plates going up and down. With always perfect form and controlled muscle movement, the bodybuilder knelt and bent over, then cranked out his deadlifts, the weight lowering, before then rising back up. The bar bent dramatically with the enormous pounds of weights loaded on it, but Biff continued lifting and made it look relatively light. This went on for quite a while more as the reps flew by, until the Biff reached still another failure and he finally stopped. Timmy’s face showed some disappointment when he assumed that the muscle-show was now over. But, after all, he had viewed the gorgeous man for almost two hours already. Some of the other gym bros approached the muscleman, slapping his knotted-with-bulging-muscle back. Timmy would have loved doing that too, using it as the excuse to actually touch Biff. He laughed to himself as he pictured slapping Biff on his huge striated deltoid and saying, “good job dude.” But of course, he could never do anything even remotely like that, mostly since he knew Biff would see right through him and know what his true motives were exactly. And, Timmy also knew that he had a raging hardon and his shorts were soaked with pre again and he would never be able to camouflage it if he was right in front of Biff. Watching the insane display of strength and huge sliced and carved muscle show was amazing while it lasted, and he decided to go upstairs and maybe do some sit-ups. Suddenly, even from upstairs, he again heard grunting and weights slamming around. All he could think of was what he was missing as he envisioned the handsome bodybuilder’s flexing muscles shifting and sliding so sensuously downstairs. But he knew it was best to give it a rest, and after a while, and not hearing Biff anymore, Timmy figured that the bodybuilder was now finally finished and was probably gone. So, he headed downstairs to leave. But, wouldn’t you know, as he came down the stairs, he saw that Biff had repositioned himself right there facing Timmy, doing seated machine rows with the weight maxed out. It was almost as though Biff knew where his admirer was before, and this ensured Timmy would see him when he came back down. Timmy stared at Biff and thought his tank was almost bursting from his muscular development. Also, curious to Timmy, was that the bodybuilder couldn’t be getting much benefit from this rowing machine. Though there were tremendous weights there, Biff was doing the exercise so fast and too easily. As he stared, Timmy knew for sure that he had never wanted anyone more in his life. Not even close to this. The big guy caught him again and stared right back. When it became a lingering friendly handsome smile, Timmy’s heart stopped. Then the sexy muscle-guy winked at him. Shocked at what had just occurred and feeling uncomfortable about not knowing what to do or say in response, Timmy hurried to the lockers and then took the elevator back up to his apartment.

Just checking backing and not wanting this great thread to move too far down the page. Can't wait for more of this awesome story.

This part was inspired by the pic at the bottom. I also borrowed a scene from the TV show Reacher that I thought was pretty clever. Hank woke up in the hayloft just before dawn. He stretched out, then leapt down to the barn floor. He went outside and took a piss in the field, steam rising heavily from his hot stream as it hit the cold morning air. He stretched out some more, warming himself up for his first workout of the day. He felt himself up and grunted with a deep self-satisfaction at his own extreme muscularity. He started to bone up, and thought about jerking off into the field, but instead, headed back into the barn to lift. It had been two weeks since the arm wrestling comp he had gone to with Kurt. Things were going great, despite the fact that Hank had been thrown out of Sam’s bodybuilding contest that past weekend. Hank and Kurt were both in the audience, hooting and hollering during Sam’s routine, but during the posedowns, Hank started mocking the other competitors, calling them pencil-necked geeks and needle-dicked pansies, among other things. Finally, when he yelled out, “My little sister’s got bigger muscle than you, fagboy,” five big security guys came over to throw him out. “Y’all want a piece of this, ladies?” Hank yelled, stripping off his shirt. When the five bruisers took a step back, Hank laughed and said, “That’s what I thought,” and started towards them. Kurt grabbed him by the scruff of his bull neck and hustled him up the aisle. Just before exiting, Hank tipped his head back and said, “If you five fairies want yer cherries popped, just come outside, I’ll do it for you.” He laughed and laughed as Kurt ushered him out the doors. Once inside Kurt’s new pickup, he said, “Do you have to cause trouble everywhere you go?” Hank was all charged up. “Did you see the looks on their faces? All of ‘em about to pee themselves. Let’s go back in. You and me could take the whole place.” Hank’s over enthusiasm was turning Kurt on, so instead of going back in, Kurt leaned over and kissed him, long and hard. Long enough for the windows of his truck to steam up. Then he said, “I got a better way to channel all that energy, muchacho.” Karl started up the truck and drove back to his place and where they fucked each other’s brains out while Sam went on to win the bodybuilding competition, despite Hank’s brouhaha, taking both the super heavyweight division and the overall. Later that day, when Sam brought his trophies out to the barn, he gave Hank a heavy black jock strap as a thank you for making the contest interesting. Now, back at the barn, Hank was wearing the strap as he lifted. He liked the way it made him feel as he pounded out outrageous amounts of weight. Two hours into his workout, pumped to the gills and sweating profusely, he decided to open the doors of the barn to let in the growing warmth of the spring day. On his way over, he saw someone peeping thru a gap in the doors. The guy saw him coming and muttered “shit”, and turned to run, but he was too late. Hank shoved the doors open hard, and one of them hit the guy from behind, sending him sprawling to the ground. Hank swaggered over to him and looked down at him. He was young, about Hank’s age, and not a big guy. As he struggled to get up on his elbows, Hank said, “Best to stay down. I could shred you.” He cracked his knuckles as he made his meaty hands into fists. “Who the fuck are you?” “I…I…I…” stuttered the guy, his tongue frozen with fear as he looked up at the pumped muscle mutant standing over him. Hank reached down with one hand and grabbed him around the neck, then swooped him up off the ground until the guy’s feet were dangling in midair. “Blink when you’re ready to talk,” Hank said, as he tightened his grip. The guy, in a panic as he felt his windpipe being crushed, blinked. But Hank continued to hold him airborne, as if he were made of straw, and squeezed harder. The guy began to blink and blink in rapid succession, his eyes bugging out of his head. Hank finally set him down and let go of his neck. “Start talkin’,” he demanded. “I just,” the guy said with a rasp, a rasp the he would have the rest of his life, his vocal cords damaged beyond repair. “I just wanted, I mean, I saw you and that massive sportscaster guy at that bodybuilding show and how you scared the security team just by looking at them, that was so epic, and how you were rooting for Sam the Weatherman, that guy is a freak, too, and I could tell you all knew each other, and I just wanted to find out how I could get big like you guys, or even half as big. I’m sick of being a fucking lightweight. So I kinda followed you around after, and saw you come out to this place.” Hank liked this, having his own little stalker, and hearing him rambling on, so full of awe. He eyed the guy up and down. “Take off your shirt,” he ordered. The guy nervously pulled his shirt off. “How much you weigh?” “About 160.” Hank snorted. “You wish. You sure are purdy, though. You about twice as purdy as the last chick I dated.” Hank reached out and put his rough palm on the side of the guy’s face. Then he ran his index finger down the guy’s neck, and down his taut, smooth torso. The young guy got goosebumps all over. Hank liked that reaction. “So you wanna get big, huh?” “I’d do anything.” “Yeah? You’d do anything, huh? What’s your name, dude?” “Joe.” “Okay, Joe, I’ll tell you what you can do. Get on your knees.” Joe hesitated, until he saw Hank arch an eyebrow. He got on his knees. His face was level with the pouch of Hank’s strap, which was starting to swell. “You blow me, and if you take my huge load, you’ll start to get bigger. I mean, ya gotta lift, too, but you’ll grow fast.” Joe looked nervously at the growing pouch. “Seriously? That’ll work?” Hank had no idea if it would work or not, but he needed a good bj. He flexed his huge arms over the aspiring muscleboy. “You wanna look like this or not?” “Jeezus. Jeezus,” rasped Joe, as he watched Hank’s pumped, inhuman arms swell. “Yeah, you want this, don’t ya, you puny little stalker? Now fucking blow me. Don’t sweat it, I’ll be gentle.” Hank whipped out his cock and let it flop into Joe’s face. Joe grabbed onto the base of it, then took the head into his mouth and started sucking. “Ahhahhahh yeah,” said Hank with a big grin. “Hot fucking virgin mouth. Work it good.” Hank grabbed Joe by his ears and guided him down his shaft. The musclebound arm wrestler started thrusting harder. He threw his head back and groaned. “Turn you into a hungry little muscle whore.” Hank stopped being gentle, and face fucked Joe with wild abandon, flopping the smaller man around like a blow-up doll, his thick shaft pumping deeper with each piston-like thrust. Hank finally unloaded, but with such force and volume that Joe lost consciousness. As Hank was pulling him off his engorged member and laying him onto the grass, Sam was pulling up. Sam got out of his car and came over. “What’s going on, man?” he asked Hank. “I don’t know, but I think I killed him. I’ll do CPR.” Hank intertwined his thick fingers, then placed one palm on Joe’s sternum and was about to start when Sam yelled “Stop! You’ll crush him like an egg. Just back away for a second, the dude is still breathing.” Sam crouched down and cradled Joe upright in his huge arms. After a few moments, Joe woke up coughing, so Sam patted his back softly. “Who is this?” Sam asked Hank. “That’s my new pet,” answered Hank, proudly. Sam just shook his head. “You can’t just keep him.” But then Joe looked up at Sam’s square-jawed face and said, “Are you God?” “See,” said Hank. “He thinks he’s in heaven.” Sam looked down at the angelic face in his arms. He looked like a younger version of himself. He ran his hand down Joe’s washboard abs. Joe quivered with pleasure. He looked at Sam with big puppy eyes. “Hey, he likes you, too,” said Hank. “We can share him. But remember, I saw him first, and I have needs.” He stuffed himself into his jock strap. Sam sighed. “Okay, he can stay. But only as long as he wants to. And don’t hurt him.” “Sweet!” exclaimed Hank. He took Joey from Sam, tossed him over his shoulder, and carried him into the barn. Sam wondered if he would live to regret his decision.

This is my first ever written story published here. I have actually written one story before, but it was lost when my old laptop gave up. I've been hesitant to put anything here as I don't want my story telling getting too judged, but, this is an idea which is so hot to me, I just had to share. I hope you all enjoy, and any feedback is much appreciated, or feel free to drop me a message. “So, anything else that needs discussing before the next news meeting?” My editor asks. “Umm, well, is there anything I can be focussing on?” My voice slightly cracks, I’ve only been at the BBC offices for a few weeks but I’m trying to make myself come off as keen, but not too keen that everyone around me hates me and thinks I’m going to gun for their job. The World Service has been through some really, really tough months, job cuts, redundancies, people moving abroad to other networks, the BBC was not the place everyone wanted to work anymore, and certainly a young 25 year old upstart like me joining the most respected name in news worldwide might rub some up the wrong way. My game plan was simple, move in the right direction but slowly, and never appear too fast or eager. I genuinely wasn’t there to steal anyone’s job, certainly not deliberately. “Actually, there’s something we want you to do, wait behind.” The room vacated, everyone doing awkward British nods and smiles at each other as they left to complete their tasks. “We’re impressed, you’re progressing well,” she says, “so we’ve got a small interview we’d like you to do, but it is an important one, and it’s a foreign assignment so it’s a good first job.” “Oh wow, okay,” I pause, “go on.” “Prince Abdul Al-Aziz Al-Hamza is shortly to take over the small island nation of Thazzan,” she starts. “Isn’t that the country which has insanely high oil revenues but doesn’t really look after its people?” “Oh yes,” she says, “we’d like you to go there and interview him. His father’s in his dying days and he’s willing to give one radio interview, specifically radio, we don’t know why, to discuss what’s next for his country.” This was a perfect scoop, I mean, it was going to be boring as hell, but good. By boring as hell, I mean there would be no chance for real questions. Interviews with dictators and their sons always followed the same format and went on the same lines, how thrilled the people are to have them and how many changes they have planned for the country. No-one actually ever takes these kinds of things seriously. “I’m a bit concerned about LGBT rights,” I say, after a few moments of pondering. “They’re inviting you, it’s not going to be a problem, in fact I’ve already checked that,” she replies. “Wait you what?” I ask, rather startled. “You’re our only free reporter, so I was upfront about it,” she replies, calmly, I forget my editor has been doing this for years, “we used to check this kind of thing with reporters in other slightly homophobic countries nearby, it’s standard practice.” “How is that, remotely standard practice?” I ask, blood pressure raised. “Because then there’s a record that we checked that it was fine for you to go as a gay man, actually it protects you from being arrested for debauchery if they were to find out you were while you’re there.” “The last thing I’m going to do is hook up with some guy from a country where it’s so repressed and I can get thrown in jail for it,” I say, almost losing my temper, but, then remembering this is the person in charge of assignments, “but thank you for your concern,” I add, through slightly gritted teeth. “Can you leave this evening? It’s either this evening or an early morning flight I’m afraid. You can leave the office now. We’ve planned around 4 days for you there, there’s a visit to some oil refineries, some oil treatment works, some oil fields, and then the final day is the interview itself,” she says, “did you know the country’s economy is almost entirely dependent on oil?” She asks, with a wry smile. “I could have guessed.” I say. ******************************************** 24 hours later and I wake up my first day in Thazzan. The air conditioning perfect, the hotel nice, the BBC could never afford a really, really nice hotel, especially for an inexperienced reporter like me, but it was comfortable. Certainly more comfortable than most hotels around the M25, although that’s not saying much. My first visit to an oil field was boring, as I guessed all the visits would be. I ended up having a chat with the manager as we were wrapping up. Oil was booming, he was telling me, no he wasn’t concerned about the sudden drop in oil in the coming decades as the country was investing now, yes he was very confident in the new Prince. “He telephones in to our board meetings across the company,” he said, excitedly. “Oh so he is more hands on than most bosses?” I ask. “Oh, absolutely,” he says, “much better than in neighbouring countries. He always dials in and he’s very good at giving direction, after all, the country shares the oil wealth so we have to do it for the benefit of all.” He replies. It’s worth pointing out at this point that corruption indexes but Thazzan at one of the worst in the world for corruption, and the UN has repeatedly said that even though they have all this oil wealth, it is not trickling down to the people. Pleas have been made repeatedly to have the wealth shared more effectively, it’s all gone unheeded. I look up from his desk, sure enough, there was a smiling Prince Al-Hamza, probably embezzling huge amounts of this money for himself, not that the people would ever know. I hated myself for thinking this, in a country of such poor gay rights, but he was hot. The guy was hot. His Excellency, or whatever his formal title was, was hot. He had the kind of manicured facial hair and beautiful dark brown eyes that really turned me on to Arab men. Not one guy so far had really piqued my interest, but the Prince did. “Ah yes, it is his official portrait, we are all very pleased with him,” the manager grinned. I notice the date mark in the plaque next to his smiling image. “2008?” I ask. “Yes, why?” he asks. “That’s ten years ago.” “It is the most recent official portrait, he is twenty there, if something more recent comes, then we all have to change. We used to change them once every six months.” “Oh right, so does he look like that now? I mean, during your teleconferences?” “Oh no, you misunderstand, we never see him, he calls in on the phone.” This struck me as odd. I sat back in my chair and looked at the image of the attractive Prince in full Thazzan flowing white robes of national dress. It also made me wonder why the man had specifically asked for a radio interview with the World Service, any Prince on a good PR job would be after BBC World News on TV, not radio. TV had a better reach and could be used on YouTube, radio, not so much. “Have you ever seen him? Met him? He’s nice?” I ask, digging. “Nope, but he is a very kind man, he cares deeply about the people,” says the manager, “sometimes when oil revenues fall, he will call me personally and discuss.” “So he’s never visited your oil field?” “A Prince is far too busy for something like that, he has many diplomatic things to attend and people to look after, I would not expect him to come visit.” “But it’s your country’s main source of revenue?” I ask. “Of course!” He replies, he’s not going to comment further. I let his last two words hang in the air briefly, most interviewees will almost always talk more when you leave the room quiet, this man, not so. Perfectly trained in PR. The two officials standing near the exit to the office probably didn’t help either, while they were there ostensibly to help me around, they were almost certainly there to make sure all my visits were perfect. With that, I left the facility. ************************************** My final day had arrived, this afternoon I was told I had an hour with the Prince, to ask him what I wanted. He wouldn’t answer any question we hadn’t planned from the news team, but we could at least try. He would give highly scripted answers to complex questions and that would be done. I didn’t know why the BBC was going through with this total farce of an interview, but there we are. I was taken to the royal palace at 1pm. The huge, vast building opened up like an oasis in the desert as we drove nearer. An enormous monolith dedicated to housing the ruling family, it had hundreds of acres of perfectly manicured grounds and guards every few metres. I was shown into a big room, then another big room, and finally another big room. I was sat down at a table with a phone on it. “The Prince will talk shortly.” I was assured by a small man in perfectly fitted attire. I got ready to read through my notes for the upcoming questions, I got out my radio microphone, I worked out the best lines of attack. I thought I’d start out slow and ask about oil revenues, then start asking why the country was still not dealing with its poverty effectively. The phone rang. I looked around, but I was in this empty space alone. I gingerly picked up the receiver. “Hello?” I asked, my voice cracked slightly, I needed to drink more, the country was too hot. “Hello, I believe you have some questions for me,” came a slightly deep, immaculately accented English from the other end of the phone. My mouth went immediately dry. “Your Excellency! I didn’t realise we weren’t doing this in person?” “I am a very busy man. You must understand.” “I do, I do,” I say, biting my tongue, before realising I needed to state the obvious, “how am I supposed to do a radio interview over the phone?” “My people will record it,” he says, assuredly, here’s a man no-one has ever said no to. “I can’t do that,” I say, holding back a frog in my throat, “BBC guidelines, I have to record it myself.” “Why?” “You could tamper with the recording, it has happened.” A deep laugh came from the other end of the receiver. “Surely not?” he asks. “Yes.” I reply. “But you would know if it had been edited, you’ll have done the interview.” “Yes but that isn’t the point.” “Okay so what is your first question?” He asks, pointedly. “No, no, I’m really sorry, I have to insist, I have to interview you in person. There’s no point in me being sent all the way here in order to get audio from a telephone recording, I could do that in London.” “London is a beautiful city,” he said, randomly. “Yes,” I say, slightly caught off guard, “it is.” “I have many houses there, would you like to know how many?” “Yes, actually,” I say. “A few, Knightsbridge and Belgravia, all of my neighbouring royal families have houses in the same areas, you know, it’s a second home for us, so many of us in the Middle East are educated in London or around London, we like the UK.” Whilst this is interesting, I get what he’s trying to do. Distraction techniques don’t work with me. “I can’t do the interview like this. It has to be in person.” There’s a loud sigh let out on the other end. Then, some barking of Arabic at an assistant. “Wait,” he says. More Arabic is exchanged. A second voice enters his room and more Arabic is discussed. They have a slightly politer form of Arabic in Thazzan, clearly, more like Lebanese, softer, not the harsh guttural tones of Saudi Arabia. A new voice joins the line. “Hello, I am chief lawyer and legal officer here at the palace.” “Oh hello,” I say, just a trifle taken aback from this new development in proceedings. “It is highly against protocol to let people meet the Prince himself.” “I know, but it is also highly against protocol to even invite foreign journalists to talk to your officials, so this is a rather new day for you, isn’t it?” I say, smirking slightly at the way I am holding myself, surprising myself, really. A long sigh is let out. “We can let you see him,” he continues, “but you don’t have a camera, do you?” “Well I’ve got my phone.” “Surrender the phone, you need to hand us everything bar the microphone and any notes you may need.” “Okay.” “There’s also a contract you need to sign, what you in the west call a non-disclosure agreement, you do not discuss the Prince’s appearance with anyone, not even your colleagues or direct bosses.” “What?” “It is radio isn’t it?” “Yes.” “Then this is not a problem, the contract should be there now, it’s standard royal protocol to not discuss the Prince’s appearance.” “Why?” I struggled to hold back laughter, this was bizarre protocol. “I cannot comment, sign the form, you will see him.” “Thank you.” I say, to his rather curt previous remark. The perfectly dressed assistant who showed me to the table comes back in, this time a gold tray with a piece of paper is handed over, as well as a fountain pen. “Please sign,” he says, bowing. I read through it, it is literally nothing else other than that I must not discuss his appearance with anyone, no hidden clauses, nothing confusing, just that one stipulation. I shrug and sign, if this is going to give me the high quality audio interview we need, that’ll be it. “Please,” he gestures frantically, “leave this room, turn right, walk to the end of the corridor, it is the last door on the right.” I really didn’t need those instructions as a man had now come to stand next to me, and started walking very closely beside me. He was hot, too. I needed to focus. ******************************************************** The doors clicked open upon my approach, but no-one else was going into the room with me. They swung open and I walked in. The room was markedly cooler than the rest of the palace. To the left, at least twenty floor to ceiling windows looked over a perfectly manicured garden being tended to by a multitude of staff. I walked in, distracted by the windows and what they had to show. There didn’t appear to be anyone in the room, I meandered slowly towards the vast view of the courtyard, and the gardens beyond. “Hello?” I ask. My voice dying in the room as it bounced off the walls and marble floors. Nothing. “Hello?” I say, voice slightly raised. I hear footsteps and two men are now leaving the room behind me, the doors click shut. I frown. I hear heavy footsteps, ones more sounding like a rhino crossing the perfectly varnished, clean, white floor. I see a broad man approaching in a beautiful crisp, white national dress. I say broad, he’s across the room and I can see that he is built like a tank. He continues to walk heavily toward me, each step making a noticeable sound on the floor. This is a man who works out. I see it is the Prince, he has barely changed facially, but there are some noticeable changes. He extends an arm to shake my hand and smiles broadly, at which point I notice his neck is almost thicker than his head. Even under the free-flowing gowns of the Arabian Peninsula, it is obvious that this man works out, all the time. He places his large hand into mine and says the Arabic for welcome, I extend the same courtesy back. As he walks towards me, one leg is being placed purposefully in front of the other, clearly due to huge legs. The arms are stretching at his national dress, and it is by no means small. “It is nicer to see you in person,” he says, “my people were very talkative with your editor, I have heard much about you, you have been in the BBC long?” That perfectly accented English makes me weak at the knees, he has a perfectly manicured beard and immaculate teeth, the deep brown eyes make me melt and that thick neck makes me swoon, I wonder what he’s packing underneath the robes. “A couple of years,” I say, looking solidly at his neck. “You will see I am different to portraits, I am more of a man now,” he smiles. “I can see there have been some changes,” I reply. ***************************************** He turned his back to me, his huge, broad back stretching at the seams of the otherwise flowing robe. He walks off to a couple of extremely comfortable looking chairs at the other side of the room, still near the windows. I’m focusing on how heavy his footfall is with each step, his purposeful gait gives the air of someone who is used to dominating a room. He sits down, the chair creaks under his weight, I pretend not to notice. “I don’t have much time, I’m sure you’ll appreciate I am a busy man,” he says, straight away, rubbing his left hand with his right. “That’s fine, I want about half an hour with you, if that’s okay? Just to clear up all the questions the world media have.” “I completely understand, please, I will answer the best I can.” I look through my notes. “May we begin?” I ask. He nods and smiles. “Oil revenues are increasing, aren’t they, how do you use these to pay for the infrastructure of Thazzan?” “My kingdom is very fortunate to have been blessed with such resources to help us out. We have historically always struggled with our economy, imports and exports. It is just one huge export, but it helps out my country hugely, we are moving into the 21st century.” “Do you think the country could be doing any better?” I ask, trying to look at his arm slyly while he rubs his mouth with his right hand in thinking. “I think we have historically had problems with corruption, from previous administrations before my branch of the family came to power, we had big problems.” “What do you say to people who say that the country still has too many problems, too much poverty, for one which last year was estimated to make a few billion dollars a day in selling oil?” He shifts in his chair, it creaks again, he pushes his head back, his neck looks as though he just flexed it, is he trying to intimidate me? “Of course there will always be these problems, but in a Muslim society, we do the best we can to help those in need, I hope that these problems will continue to be eradicated, any poverty is too much poverty.” He shifts in his chair again, he looks uncomfortable. I think he doesn’t like asking questions from a media which actually searches. This is not the fawning state media he’ll be used to. “What are you doing to promote tourism? I understand you are bidding for worldwide sporting events?” He looks relieved at this question. “We are bidding for the World Cup, and for more sports to take place here, we need to boost our economy further with tourism and to show the correct Arab culture around the world, you know, Arabs are seen as so hospitable, yet everyone just associates us with terror attacks, it is awful.” The chair lets out a larger creak as he shifts again, he takes a deep breath. “In terms of your tourism economy, what -“ “Stop,” he interrupts. I momentarily pause, still looking at my notes, rather taken aback by his interjection. He reaches forward and rips the batteries out of my recorder, his huge arms at work under that national dress make me do a double take. “I am sorry, I am not feeling well, I had a brief illness last week, and I thought I would be okay, but I just need to get some water. This is off the record, illness is something my people would not associate with me.” I’m rather taken aback by the admission here, but pause. It’s highly unusual, but if he wasn’t feeling that well at the beginning of the interview then why did he proceed anyway? I ask him this. “I thought I’d be okay, but…” he lets out a long sigh, I notice the chair is creaking again, surely he can afford better chairs, “pass me some water.” He gestures at an ornate table, about five metres away, it has two huge pitchers of water on it and seven glasses. I walk over and pour some out. Hopefully we can bond over me helping him. I have my back turned to him and I hear another creak, he lets out a low groan. He isn’t going to be unwell is he? I can’t be accused of trying to poison him, can I? Is this a trap? I suddenly realise this man knows I’m gay in a highly homophobic country, is asking me to pour him water and hand him it, he could accuse me of all kinds of things, there are literally no staff in here. I don’t carry poison, but what can they accuse me of? I turn back around to face him, he’s sweating. “Are you okay? Should I get staff?” “No, honestly,” he lets out a huge burp, covering his mouth, swearing under his breath in Arabic, “I need some water.” He shifts back in his chair, then more upright, both times the chair makes the loudest squeaks and creaks yet. I rush back with two glasses of water. He has some beads of sweat forming on his forehead. This has to be real, he can’t be faking it at this point. He gulps down both glasses. His face is red, sweaty. “Can you stay longer? We may have to reschedule, I think,” he says. “Yes of course I can, what -“ I’m interrupted by the sound of ripping fabric. His eyes let out a look of panic, briefly, locking straight on to mine. I have no idea what to say, the pause hangs there immediately after the ripping. He continues to stare at me, rabbit in the headlights, as I notice the seams on his shoulders are giving way, the previous flowing robe now bursting at the seams. We both continue to stare at each other. In the corner of my eye I can see the seams getting wider on his shoulders. “Are you -“ I’m speechless beyond that, I don’t know what to say. I’m standing in front of him in the chair, staring. He continues to stare at me, almost completely vacantly at this point, but still panic-stricken. There’s no more words to be formed, I fantasise about this kind of thing all the time, every day, but is it actually happening? Had I finally gained the ability I had always wanted to have? This is the kind of thing I read about on muscle fantasy forums every night, night after night, after work, one handed typing, as I read hot stories of men growing. But this guy is doing it actually in front of me. This isn’t a wet dream. He lets out a deep breath and burps again, says something else under his breath in Arabic. I, automatically, in my British sentiment, excuse him. He thanks me under his breath. The pregnant pause continues, it’s unbearable, I want to watch him grow but I can’t believe it’s happening. There’s no batteries in my microphone, I can’t take notes. I just continue to look at his face. He continues to take in great gulps of air, a bead of sweat forming at the end of his nose and another trickling down the left side of his face. Finally, both stretches of fabric covering his shoulders give way and tear. At this point I sit down, my burgeoning erection had been going since I realised that this was happening, and that he wasn’t actually unwell. He smirks, gently. “You like this, don’t you?” He says, absent-mindedly rubbing his exposed left shoulder with his right hand. I can’t reply. I am staring. My boxers are wet. “Being trapped in such a small, island nation with only a few hundred thousand people and such bad gay rights, I was thrilled to find out a gay reporter was coming.” My mouth is dry. The chair creaks again, he didn’t shift in it this time. “Imagine how surprised I was to find that the security detail provided to you by my security services included that you were a member of the muscle growth forum?” Rumbled. I feel the colour drain from my face. I really want a glass of water now. “When we got into your account, had a look through, you’ve always dreamed of being the guy who encourages, stays the same while his partner gets bigger,” he continues. “I have to say, when I was handed the report by my special security services, and I came across that section in the online activity chapter, I knew I had found the man for me,” he groans under his breath and throws his head back, closing his eyes while something else rips elsewhere. My mouth is as dry as the desert outside. I struggle to prevent my hands shaking wildly. “I bet you want to know why poverty is so bad in my country, why healthcare is so bad,” he says, opening his eyes, staring at me again, those deep, beautiful eyes. I nod, mouth open, catching flies. “I have always wanted this,” he says, grunting a bit at the ‘this’, “ever since I was a child, I wanted to be bigger and better than everyone, I went to school at a private institution in England, I could never become the rugby player I wanted to be. “I have always felt like the only one in the world, who wanted this, like you do, but for me. But then I realised, I’m coming to power, let’s spend my family wealth on the one thing I want, I can be in charge of the government, let’s change government research and development from medical research to muscle.” The chair underneath him lets out two staccatos of creaking. He groans a bit. “My family makes billions per day, of course I use it for the people, and some offshore, but at least one billion of that goes into this.” He stands up, the robe falls to the floor, I involuntarily make a sound like the slut for muscle I’ve always known I have been. “You are literally looking at the only guy in the world who can grow, and grow on command. I have pills, I popped some before you came in, I take them when I want, they’re not perfect, I rarely go out in public, sometimes the growth takes over, so I rule from my palaces.” I look at the striations of muscle across his body, the tensing and flexing, the beads of sweat dripping down his hairy chest and arms, the only clothing he still has on are his undergarments, sandals and his headwear. He reaches out a hand to me, and pulls me out of the chair, I’m weak at the knees. His hands lead me to put my left hand on his chest, my right on his left arm, he tenses both areas. I feel a wet patch forming. “No-one is allowed to touch me except family, that’s a sackable offence in royal palaces,” he continues, “but you, you have always wanted this, you don’t want to admit it but a multi-billionaire prince who can also grow must also be something you want.” He flexes his left arm, I realise my voice box is involuntarily engaged as I let out a huge, sudden breath, I feel my body tense all over. I came. He looks at my now sticky trousers. “Well, well, well, your profile was not fake.” “I’m so sorry,” I say, shakily, sweating, barely able to get a word out, voice cracking. “Why are you apologising?” I stare, dumbly, I can’t take the situation in. “When you came in I was around 270lbs, I’m around 6’3, at this point I’m usually 100lbs more than that, there’s more to go, yet.” This makes me acknowledge the current situation and regain some ground. “How big do you,” I say, I pause to run my tongue round my mouth, “how big do you go?” “Well I only took a couple, so, erm, 200lbs more? I’ll end up somewhere around 500, it’s not an exact science.” My dick is hard again. Throughout all of this, I have noticed how huge his penis is, but there’s been so much else to take in. “And you’re hard again! Oh this will be fun,” he playfully states. He lowers his under robe, a huge, footlong, and thick as a wrist dick springs out, balls the size of small lemons. “You may touch elsewhere, I have no intention of firing you,” he flashes a shark-like grin. ********************************** I gingerly touch his huge, throbbing cock with my hands, left hand towards the hilt, right hand towards the head. I push the skin back towards the hilt and forth towards me, I start gently jacking him. “I love that you’re into this,” he grunts, “I usually have to get prostitutes, no-one likes a man to be this size.” I try and steady my breath, I want to have a calm conversation and not get too ahead of myself. “This is something I’ve noticed, there’s some sizes that most people just think are too much -“ I start to say. “As if there’s a too much,” he says, before groaning again under his breath. “I couldn’t agree with you more,” I say. I grip his huge dick slightly more with my right hand, keeping the rhythm going, while playing with his enormous balls. “Once I finish I usually start shrinking a bit back to my normal size,” he says, “sometimes it takes a few extra hours to reduce down.” “Your normal size is something I was impressed by,” I reply. “Oh believe me, it can go so much more than that,” he says, smirking, “actually, I’m taking the stuff so often it seems to have a residual effect, my smaller sizes are much larger than they used to be.” He flexes his hairy pecs, I moan and bury my face in them. He lets out a moan of approval. As I rub the left side of my face into his pecs, he raises his left arm and shows me its progress. I groan involuntarily, lean over and start kissing the huge growing bicep and tree trunk arm. He’s even thicker and bigger than he was before. “I like food too much to be a ripped god, but I guess from your messages on your muscle growth profile you like men beefier anyway,” he says, his voice has now definitely dropped an octave. “Size and mass are my thing,” I say, leaning over to kiss his now much enlarged arms. “You’re perfect,” he says. I hear a low rumble come out of his chest as his body expands further. “I must be getting close to the 400lb mark,” he adds. I step back, my hand still working his huge, perfectly cut and girthy footlong. He has expanded. He’s now starting to seriously take up my view of the room behind him, even when I step back. “Oh my god,” i whimper, under my breath. “So you’re enjoying this?” He flashes me a grin with those beautiful, perfect teeth. His eyes catch the light streaming in through the windows. The dark brown gets turned to a slightly reflective brown in the sun. He’s perfect. He lets out a low moan as I run my tongue along my lips. His huge arms envelope my back and he holds me tight to his huge chest. My face is buried in between the crevice of his impossible pecs. His slabs of abs, not super defined, but there, press into my stomach beneath my shirt. He squeezes me harder and I let out an involuntary whine. He gets his big hands under my armpits and lifts me just above the ground so we are eye to eye. “I told you I get bigger,” he says, his eyes looking at his enormous biceps. I can see them actually swelling, now that he’s holding me. Every pump of his heart is leading the muscles to engorge slightly more. In this position, hovering just a foot above the ground, his huge body visibly expanding in front of me, I feel something I didn’t want to feel again this quickly. My dick starts tensing incredibly hard, and before I know it, my cream trousers are once again coated on the inside. He looks at me closely as I groan under my breath. Then he realises. “Again?” He says, his voice even deeper than before. Those perfect teeth make another appearance in between smiling lips. My face flushes and I nod. He puts me down and starts unbuttoning my shirt and undoes my belt as I take off my clothes hurriedly. He gets to my boxers and runs his fingers along the huge wet patch. I’ve always been proud of how much I can cum. He rubs his fingers into it, and takes them to his mouth, and licks gingerly. “You taste good, actually,” he says, hesitantly. I hear him groan slightly under his breath. The traps and his neck now have no definite start or end point. He reaches out his hands and forces off my shoes, boxers and socks. I stand naked, in front of the Prince of Thazzan, he at around 450lbs I must guess by now, just his undergarments on, torn clothes on the floor, sandals and head garment still on. He holds me close to him again, my back clicks slightly as he squeezes me, I whine again. He kicks off his sandals and pushes me to my knees. He bends his huge body down slightly to lower the undergarment to his ankles and slaps his heavy dick across my face. His hands connected to his huge swelling arms wrap around the back of my head and force the dick between my lips. He gets two thirds in and I gag. My jaw is fully relaxed as it’s the only way to ensure I don’t bite any part of it. He pulls my head back and then fully back into his dick. It gets around 9” in. I gag again. I look up at him, eyes watering, his eyes and eyebrows just visible beyond his pec shelf and huge stomach. “I’m going to have to train you,” he growls. I feel my dick start to helplessly tense again. It’s looking up at his huge body that’s doing it. I beg internally for it not to happen as his huge dick tries to explore my mouth further and work further down my throat. I try and pull my head back but it’s useless to try something like that when there’s a 480lbs muscle guy restraining you. I close my eyes as they water, tears streaming down my face as I let out a moan on his dick and I shoot across the marble. I open my eyes and look up at him through the tears, dick still firmly lodged down my throat, my breathing partially constricted on it. He smirks, “you’re passing all my tests.” He grabs me under the armpits again and lifts me up, puts me down on the ground and my feet land in my own sticky mess. Great. He takes two steps back and I can feel every bit through the marble. “It’s solid foundations beneath this, you know,” he boasts, “that’s how heavy I am.” He gets on to the floor, when his hands touch the floor I feel reverberations too. “Pass me a pillow,” he says, I dumbly oblige, standing in my own cum. “Lie down, head on the pillow,” he growls. I get on my front on the cool marble floor as he stands up. Bones and joints click in his body. “On your back. I want to see you when I do this.” I dread what’s coming. He’s a monster. I knew this was going to happen but I’m still not prepared for it in the slightest. He lifts me legs with such effort as he gets on his knees, and the floor shakes, that I feel my ass and body being lifted up, up to my neck. “Oops,” he grunts, “you weigh nothing now.” He sits my feet on his shoulders and look up. I’ve never been more turned on. If I tilt my head left or right he still dominates my view. I feel the pain as my hole is stretched beyond belief. His now 500lb body lowering into me. Every inch feels like six with the added girth and pain. I am paralytic from pain and can’t even scream. My mouth is open but no sound comes out. He lowers his head right up to mine, forcing my legs back into a position I didn’t think possible, but his weight made inevitable. He kisses me on the lips, before moving his mouth to my ear. “This is my biggest, do you like?” he rumbles. He raises himself back up as his dick starts working in and out of my hole. I just want it to be over. He can train me, but the pain is too much. It would take years to adjust to a dick like this. I finally find my breath and let out a yelp of pain. He puts his right hand beside my head, I feel the ground shake, and his left hand covers my mouth entirely. “Shhhh,” he says, “I thought you liked guys my size,” he smiles. He removes his left hand from my mouth and flexes his left arm in front of me. My hands reach out for his arm like a thirsty person reaching for water and I realise both of my hands have no chance of ever being able to reach around his huge tree trunk arms. One hand barely covers a quarter of the circumference. “Do you like guys my size?” He asks, flexing his hulk-like left arm as I reach at it like a pathetic kitten. “Yes,” I moan, in between trying to breathe when not all of the 12 inches are inside. “This is two pills,” he gives me a wide grin, “I’ve got an unlimited supply,” he continues. I moan in approval, my hands now roaming over his impossibly huge, hairy chest and body. “I can grow like this any time I want,” he continues, as I continue to feel his burgeoning form, “any time,” he repeats. His thrusts get stronger, heavier, I feel his dick tensing inside my hole. “If it were up to me I’d be big like this all the time,” he says, I feel my dick starting to tense again involuntarily, I know what’s coming. “I want to be bigger than this, and I can get bigger than this any time I want, I only want to be this kind of size, only you understand,” he lets out a load groan and I feel what’s coming. His dick is pulsing hard deep inside my gut. “I have no limit!” I yell. I feel my hole suddenly flooded with sperm, his orgasms seem to actually be getting stronger. He lets out a deep, masculine roar as he collapses onto me, my legs flexed fully back beside my head. My dick tenses again and pumps out what it can from the very active half an hour it’s had. His orgasms seem to subside slightly before he groans into the pillow again, his full 500lbs of weight is seriously restricting my breathing and I start to panic slightly. I feel his huge strong dick continue to pump and tense inside me before he lets out a slightly higher pitched grunt and he feels less heavy on me. We lie there, breathing heavily.

Sam had been a weatherman on a local affiliate in his city for over a decade. He was very photogenic, like so many on air personalities, and kept himself in great shape. In fact, his trainer often told him that he should enter a physique competition. Sam would just laugh off the suggestion, but then he would go home and flex in the mirror, admiring his muscular build, picturing himself winning a competition with ease, until he came to his own reflection. Later that week, a new sportscaster was joining the crew at Sam’s station. He was from an affiliate in Montana. His name was Kurt Steele. Sam googled him, and found out that he’d been a rancher until about a year ago when he started doing sports for a station out of Helena. The only images of him were his headshots, which seemed odd, but from those Sam could tell the guy was a big burly guy, the epitome of what a sportscaster should look like. His neck was wider than his head. His jaw line and brow were thick and squared off, like a Neanderthal. A ruggedly handsome Neanderthal. Thick swirls of chest hair stuck up from his unbuttoned polo collar. Sam was mesmerized by the rugged masculinity of his face, but disdainfully hoped that the guy’s IQ matched his neck size, which appeared to be about 24 inches. The day Kurt started at the station, Sam arrived about 20 minutes before his air time, as usual. Jillian, the makeup woman, told him he should go meet the new guy. “He’s in Greg’s old office.” So Sam made his way down the hallway and knocked on the door. He knew from the guy’s headshots to expect a big man, but when the door open, he took a step back. The guy was huge. Kurt smiled broadly and said, “You must be Sam. I recognize your face.” His voice was a deep bass as it rolled out of his barrel chest. He had on a tight white tee that showed off his impressive build. “Um, yeh, I’m Sam,” stuttered Sam, who was rarely at a loss for words. He had a hard time processing the size of the man in front of him. He felt off balance. Kurt put out his hand and the two men shook. And in about the time it takes an electron to orbit its nucleus, both men knew who the alpha was, as men usually do with a handshake. Kurt’s huge meaty grip wrapped around Sam’s smaller hand and squeezed. Sam was not used to being the beta who was intimidated by a bigger man’s presence. He felt lightheaded, and had a funny stirring in his gut that he wasn’t used to either. “Come on in,” said Kurt, pulling Sam into his office, giving him no chance to decline the invite. “I’m just getting ready for my big debut.” Kurt stripped off his white tee and tossed it aside. “Holy shit,” muttered Sam, as he soaked in the sight of the powerfully built sportscaster. He could feel the heat coming off his massive torso. Kurt chuckled. “What’s the matter, Sammy, you never seen muscle like this before?” Kurt flexed his arm. “I guess not many people have seen a 23” arm this close up.” He moved his big peak closer to Sam. Kurt’s scent filled the room. Sam backed up against the door jam. “Or chest slabs like this.” Kurt turned sideways toward a big mirror on the wall. He heaved his chest out. His pecs jutted outward. “Oh my god,” said Sam. Kurt’s pecs had three times the thickness of his. Kurt grinned as he bounced his powerful chest. “Check this out, Sammy.” Kurt grabbed a trophy that was on a shelf next to fthe mirror. He heaved his chest out farther, then placed the trophy on his wide pec shelf and rested it there. “Geezus fuck,” said Sam. Then he said, “Is that a powerlifting trophy? “Yep. I’ve got about twenty more off them, still boxed up in my new place. I keep winning them, and my chest keeps getting bigger and stronger. Along with everything else too. Speaking of which, I’ve gotta pump up a little before going on.” Kurt put the trophy back on the shelf. He went over to the closet and pulled out chest exercise bar. Sam used to see ads for them in old muscle mags. Kurt held it in his outstretched arms and bent it until the ends tapped. “I had this special ordered,” said Kurt. “It has 6 times the tension of their hardest bar.” He bent the bar as if it had no resistance at all. Like it was a toy. His pecs swelled with every rep. So did his brawny arms and forearms. When he stopped, he handed the bar to Sam. “You look like you try to stay in shape. Give it a try. You’ll be surprised at how hard it works your whole upper body.” Sam tried it, but could barely make the thing budge. Meanwhile Kurt was checking himself out in the mirror. “Yeh,” he said, satisfied. “Not a bad pump at all.” He was swollen up like a super heavyweight bodybuilder right before heading on stage. He turned and walked to his desk, and Sam got a good look at the big man’s back. It was wider and thicker than Vincent Mansone’s. Kurt picked up a stick of deodorant from his desk. He turned toward Sam, raised one big arm and started rubbing deodorant into his deep armpit. “You look a little pale there, Sam. You never seen a pump like this?” Kurt started bouncing his swollen mounds. Even thru his hairy pelt, Sam could see striations on the bigger man’s pecs, and the deep valley between the two. “That is insane,” groaned Sam. Kurt chuckled as he finished his other pit. Then he went to the closet and pulled out a big black polo and pulled it on. It was snug on his massive torso. “They don’t make these 6xl’s as big as they used to,” said Kurt, as his huge veiny arms pushed the short sleeves halfway up his delts. He shoved the shirt tail into his pants. Sam could see Kurt’s thick ab bricks thru the fabric, moving in and out as he breathed. “It gets hard to find clothes when you’re 330 pounds and growing.” He flexed his arms into a double bi. “You better get ready for your segment, Sam. But you might want to change your pants first.” Sam was barely holding onto consciousness, but he looked down and realized that precum had leaked thru his dress pants. “It’s good to be part of the team,” said Kurt as he walked up to Sam and took his hand, shaking it again. Then Kurt ran his thick calloused thumb up and down the back of Sam’s hand, slowly and firmly. Sam came in his pants.

Moderators Preface: This story asks for people to vote / like in order to generate the next stage of the story. It is not to be seen as a method of generating views or income for the user. Week 0 Jared jogged down the sidewalk with his airpods in his ears. He was dressed in a big hoodie that hugged his pecs tight and accentuated them jiggling up and down. It didn’t help that Jared’s pecs were already the size of textbooks strapped to his chest. The sleeves of the hoodie strangled his arms inside. As he jogged through the city, his soft cock bounced with his body, clearly visible through his gray sweatpants. His wide hips gave his bubble butt a nice natural sway to his run. “I’ve got the eye of the tiger, a fighter. Dancing through the fire ‘cause I am the champion. And you’re gonna hear me roooooar…” hummed Jared as he passed by a storefront. It was typically abandoned, but there seemed to be one shop lit up at the end of the street. That’s never there, thought Jared to himself. Jared always ran this way to his Friday night shift for work and there had never been any kind of business here. Not even any that were being renovated. Jared paused his music and took his airpods out of his ears. He slowed his pace to a walk, reading the tacky neon signs in the window. BIG SALE read the blue letters, lit up in an explosive cloud of smoke behind it. Jared lifted his head up and saw the massive sign above him light up. “The Sizemologist Cauldron?” mused Jared. He pushed open the door and walked into the surprisingly spacious store. He walked through the shelves of items. His wide shoulders brushing up against the glass bottles on display. He turned his body to read one of the potions on the shelf, but in doing so, his big shoulder made two vials wobble and begin rolling off the wood. “Woah there big guy!” came a voice from behind him. Jared jumped forward startled by the gentleman leaning down behind him. His big pecs lurched forward and pressed into many more glass bottles in front of him on the shelf. “Shit, fuck. Sorry!” Jared steadied himself and carefully pushed the bottles to the back of the shelf. “I thought I had more room to move.” Jared slowly turned back around to see a man with platinum blonde hair holding two bottles. “Jumbo Juice and Two Ton Tonic, a fun mixture, but probably not for right now,” said the man as he put the two bottles on the shelf. “And don’t worry about it. I know how tight these hallways can be,” said the big man as he rubbed his own prestigious belly. The man seemed to be in his mid forties and had a stocky muscular build with a round belly that stuck out a foot or two in front of him. He stood just an inch or two taller than Jared, but Jared was definitely the wider of the two. “Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget how big I am,” replied Jared as he returned the last potion to the shelf. “No worries big guy. My husband says the same thing. Now, what can I do for you today?” asked the salesman as he led Jared through the aisle. “I’m just browsing. I’ve never seen your shop before. When did you open?” asked Jared as his eyes peered across the name tags. Bubble Butt Brew? Pillow Pec Potion? Muscle Milkshake? What’s this guy selling here? thought Jared. “Just yesterday. Had to get out of the last place I was in a bit of a rush. And lucky for me, this place was available to move in immediately.” They entered the main shopping area with multiple kiosks setup with jewelry, sunglasses, even some speedos on manikins. “Feel free to look around. I’m clearing out my entire inventory to make room for a new line of products so don’t be shy.” Jared immediately ran towards the speedos. The manikins modeling them had a substantial bulge outlined in their front pouch and an ass that was spilling out the sides and could be seen from the front. “How much for one of these? I could always use a new speedo for work.” asked Jared, feeling the fabric of a striped red one. “And do they come in bigger sizes?” He brushed his fingers across the hard plastic dick inside. “Those speedos are pretty cheap, only $5. They aren’t as great as you think they might be.” The shopkeep walked over to the manikin and pulled the speedo off of the plastic to reveal a smooth surface. “The charm of the clothes only are in effect when you’re wearing the clothes. Not good if you’re going for long term gains.” Jared’s eye’s did a double take when he saw there was no mold of a dick on the manikin. He grabbed the one he was holding and pulled it off to reveal the same smooth surface. “What the fuck?” Jared backed up from the display and looked around at some of the other items. Lock Cock Ring? Juicer Belt? Gainer’s Snack Sack? His head was spinning as he could only imagine what he might’ve stumbled onto. “What? Not a fan? I would’ve thought you'd at least enjoy looking like you had bigger junk. Given your line of work,” said the shopkeep. “I meant the magic speedos! What kind of place are you running here? And how do you know where I work?” asked Jared. “I’ve seen your act and I must say, I was thoroughly impressed by your size.” Jared gazed into the eyes of the older man leaning against the counter. “And this place is for people who want to get really big. Like yourself.” “Thank you. I have been growing a lot lately,” smiled Jared as he held up his bicep. It balled up and swelled to the size of an orange in its poor black sleeve. “And I’m always looking to grow more.” “You have no idea. Well if you’re interested in a nice speedo, I can show you to my more exclusive selection.” The shop keep held up his hand and pointed towards a sign that read Does This Make Me Look Big?. “Well if everything is on sale, why not? I have time before work.” Jared turned and followed the bigger man down the hallway. At the edge of the shop, there was a glass display with three speedos underneath. “Normally, these speedos would go for around a few hundred bucks, but hopefully they’ll be in your price range.” The shop keep flipped the light and the speedos lit up. “Why are they so expensive?” asked Jared as he examined the selection. There was a dark red one with a black diamond design running down it, a light blue one with white circles emanating from points of the speedo like ripples, and a royal purple one with a golden stag on the crotch. “They allow someone to grow by being paid for it.” Jared snapped his head to the shop keep and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “If I wear this, people can pay to grow me bigger?” His eyes glared back down at the speedos, wide with the possibilities. “Yep.” The shopkeep held the key in his hand with a smirk on his face. “I had a feeling you’d be intrigued by these.” “How does it work?” Jared pressed his face up to the glass, “Is it like a coin machine and it gives candy out?” he changed angles on the glass, “Or is there a barcode I can scan for Venmo or Cashapp?” he changed his angle to stare down at the speedo, “Or will people need to swipe their cards through my ass?” “No no no, calm down big guy.” The shop keep peeled the big excited man off the glass. He turned the lock and pulled out a rectangular metal box behind the display. “It’s done using this remote.” He clicked a button on the remote and the white circles on the blue speedo lit up. “This remote is a money-getting machine. It has a hole to suck in any cash or coin thrown your way, a card reader that can swipe, chip, or tap, as well as a projector for a barcode for people to scan to send money to as well.” The man clicked a button and a barcode lit up on the wall. “That is incredible.” Jared was in awe as he picked up the purple one. “Are they all the same?” “No, they each have special features that can accompany the growth. The red pair is a boost in the wearer’s muscles. The blue is a boost to the wearer’s cock. And the one you’re holding, those will boost both.” Jared stretched the speedo out with his hands and found it had a surplus of stretch. “And I’ve never met someone who has been able to outgrow them if you were worried about that.” “There’s a first time for everything,” said Jared with a smirk. “I’ll take them. How much?” “Normally they’d cost you around $500 for this particular pair,” said the shop keep as he reached for another remote. “But I’ll give them to you for the low price of $50. Do we have a deal?” He plugged in some numbers on the remote and turned it to show Jared the screen that read $50. “Deal.” Jared didn’t waste any time pulling out his wallet and tapping his card on the screen. “So how does this thing work?” Jared took the remote from the man’s hands and started fiddling with the screen. “Why don’t I let him explain.” He leaned forward and tapped a button on the side of the remote that lit up a light blue. Out popped a man clad in only the same speedo as the one Jared had just bought. Except the man was entirely translucent and shiny blue. “Hello there! You must be my new master!” beamed the hologram. The man was completely bald and had a round jaw line with a cartoon-like muscular body beneath his head. “Wo-ho-ho you bought these?! You wanna get bigger? My good sir, you're already huge!” the hologram zipped back behind Jared’s shoulder as it talked like a mosquito in his ear. “I mean look at you! You could already bench, what, 250, 300 pounds? What do you need me here for?” The hologram reached forward and squeezed Jared’s hefty pecs. “350, actually,” Jared swatted away the hologram’s hand, surprised he could feel its touch. “Exactly, what are you doing here looking to get even bigger?” The hologram poofed away and reappeared in front of Jared’s pecs with a straw hat and a flannel. “Y’all tryin’ to grow these milkers even bigga’.” The hologram reached forward and grabbed Jared’s nipples that were visible even under two layers of clothes and started milking them like a cow. “Hey! Cut it out!” Jared reached his arms forward to swat at the hologram only to have them go straight through it. “Wait, what the? How are you doing that!?!” yelled Jared as the hologram vanished and appeared beside the shop keep like a gnat buzzing around the room. “Go easy on him R. People here aren’t as familiar with the mystic arts. This is R, he will teach you how to use the speedo.” The hologram brought its hand up and waved at Jared before putting his hands together in front of him. “Sam I can smell this guy’s hunger for size from here, this isn’t a good idea.” the hologram turned back to the shop keep and glared at him. “Hush up, I just wanna see what he can do. Give him the royal treatment,” said the shop keep, giving the hologram a comically exaggerated bow. “Oh we’re giving this one the royal treatment? He’s that big a deal?” asked the hologram. “I’m definitely a big deal.” Jared smiled and hit a double bicep pose and flexed his arms down in front of him. The hologram simply rolled its eyes and looked back at the shop keep. “Fine, I’ll give him the royal treatment. Hell, I’ll make him as big as he wants.” Jared’s eyes lit up with excitement and he looked back at the remote. “Let’s go, R. I’ve gotta get to work, and I’m sure you can walk and talk.” Jared tapped the Settings button on the remote and connected his airpods to the remote in a second. “Thank you so much sir. I can’t thank you enough. Hopefully, you’ll see how big I get soon.” Jared stuffed the speedo in his pocket and started to briskly walk towards the door. “No problem Jaren. You have a fun time at work!” yelled the shop keep as R blinked the further away Jared got. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” buzzed R as he flickered away. Jared pulled the door open and barreled out of the shop towards the club. He only had a few blocks to go, but he walked slow as he put his air pods back in. “Testing, KEEEETTTCH, Testing, SHEEEEESH Testing, Testing, Testing, is this thing on!” rang a loud voice from the air pods. “God dammit, yes dude I can hear you.” Jared pulled out the remote and looked down at the screen to see a little 2-D animation of R floating on it. “Excellent, let’s start with introductions!” blared the animation. R poofed away and was replaced by 4 more R’s in marching band uniforms holding trumpets blasting a fanfare into Jared’s ear. “Welcome to the Royal Speedo from the Sizemologist’s 4th collection! I am your guide for this machine as well as sometimes the machine itself, here to grow you beyond your wildest dreams!” shouted an R wearing a long flowing royal purple cape and a golden crown. “Still very loud, but I don’t think you understand how big I can dream,” replied Jared. He looked around to see if anyone saw him talking to this remote, but he was alone before he walked into the club. “We’ll see about that,” replied R as he flew off the screen and his head appeared next to the main menu. “So, to get started, you will need to select your levels.” A button labeled Levels highlighted itself and Jared clicked on it. “Select what levels of growth you want based on your prices.” Jared was presented with a screen of sliders. He saw lengths on the left side of the screen and dollar amounts on the right. He swept his fingers up and down on the screen to adjust the numbers accordingly. “What do you think is a generous number for how much I want to grow?” asked Jared. R blinked and the lens of the remote flashed and an angel R and a devil R appeared on Jared’s shoulders. “It would be wise to keep your ratio of cash to size low considering how much money men already give you for your body,” said Angel R on Jared’s shoulder holding a harp with a halo on its head. “Or knowing that you’ll be rolling in the dough come show time, you could make it pretty easy for you to grow with just a little bit. That way you can get huge fast!” grinned the Devil R holding a pitchfork with horns on his head. “I like that idea waaaay more!” Jared didn’t think much as he started moving his money meter down. “No no no, you can't do that! You’ll get so big so fast! That could be dangerous!” shouted the Angel R. “I suggest that you make it so that $100 would grow you a foot.” The Angel R crossed his arms and puffed air out of his nose as he flew in front of Jared’s face. “Dangerous shmangerous, let’s get this cash cow growing!” The Devil R bumped the Angel R away as Jared settled on his ratio. “Excellent choice master.” “Master, I kinda like that.” Jared devilishly grinned as he walked to the back entrance of the club. He had landed on $10 would grow him a foot taller. “And your name is just R? Does that stand for anything?” “Royal Model. I was fashioned for some of the most powerful people in the world,” replied R from back on the remote screen. “Then it’s perfect I’ll be wearing you. But I don’t like the name R. What about…Rob. Short for Robot.” R changed into a floating head with three dots coming out of it giving Jared a blank stare. “Alright, I’ll be Rob. Now to get the machine active, you’ll need to put the speedo on first.” Jared entered the club and made his way to the dressing room. Taking off his hoodie, he peeled off the tight tank top he had on under it. Shimmying out of his sweatpants and sliding his jock off to reveal his chubbed up 8-incher. Picking up the speedo, he fit one leg through the hole then the other. He was surprised just how much they were able to stretch around his massive legs. He pulled it over his fat ass and pulled the creases out around it and his crotch. He rearranged his balls nicely inside then looked at himself in the mirror. He was hot in them, even though it wasn’t advertised for it, Jared could swear his dick looked bigger in the speedo. He turned to the side and his jaw dropped from how fat his ass got. Like an overgrown cantaloupe overflowing the sides of the speedo. “Fuck, I love these things.” “Uh-huh, yeah I know they’re great. Now get over here,” chirped Rob from the remote. “Let me get a quick read through of your stats.” “A what? What are yo- Whoa!” Jared felt a surge of energy flow through his crotch as the golden stag lit up. It rode its way up his body over his abs, up to his pecs, and out his arms. All while running down his legs and spreading to his back. “What the fuck was that?” “You like?” the remote blinked as Jared picked it up and focused on the screen. “That’ll be what it feels like to grow. But for now, it was just to see what we’re working with now.” A table came up as it started tallying together some stats on Jared’s body. Height: 6 Feet Tall Weight: 250 Pounds Cock Size (Flaccid): 8 Inches Long Cock Size (Erect): 10 Inches Long “My oh my, you are a big one. I am excited to watch you grow.” Rob beeped and the screen went away. “Once you’re on stage, you just let me handle collecting the money. You just focus on getting those men’s hard earned cash and getting huge.” “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Jared pulled out his airpods and set them down next to his clothes. “Alright gentlemen, y’all are in for a treat tonight!” came Rob’s voice from the loud speaker. Jared admired himself in the mirror for a moment as his intro music played. “We have for you tonight one of the biggest men out there. And he just plans on getting bigger! You guys like that, right?” The crowd outside erupted with boisterous applause while Jared popped his pecs in the mirror. Rubbing his big nipples with some glitter as he stretched. “Well folks, if you would like to see this next dancer get even bigger, then don’t be afraid to show him some love. And by love, I mean cash!” Jared bounced his hair with his fingers and smiled at himself in the mirror. “Please give it up for…The Hulking Himbo!” (A quick author’s note here at the end, this is a growth drive! For Macro March, I am growing this hulking himbo as big as he can get and that will be based on how much you guys like him. To participate, click on the linktree I have in my bio and it’ll take you to the main post on my Twitter where you can grow this hunk. You can also grow him here by liking/favoriting the story, giving me a follow, or commenting on it on any of the other sites. Either way it’ll count towards this man getting bigger. The first round will go through March 1st to March 13th and I will post those results on March 16th. We’ll see how much he grows after just 1 week Hope you guys enjoy and Happy Macro March!)

I Can imagine Carnitas getting mixed thoughts with steamroller camp, as he get smaller YET heavier, increasing in density to an insane degree

Re Brad - It was the combination of vaccines that only Brad had that triggered it, though even our scientists aren't sure why - something about that particular combination triggered the growth. (Of course, they're not sure, because I'm not sure - a bit of artistic licence.)

This story is based on an old Metabods story called "The gene" that's no longer on the site. Also, of course, HSMuscleBoy's characters. Sean laid on his bed, his body hot and sweaty, and his enormous cock, a staggering 22.5 inches long, a thick 9 inches around, raging hard and pissing precum all over his chest and face. He gazed at his laptop screen, his hands moving all over his ripped, muscular body. Though well into his twenties, his face looked no older then eighteen, a beautiful face with piercing blue eyes, and full sensual lips. In contrast to his youthful face, he was massively built, broad powerful shoulders that narrowed to a shockingly tight waist, huge slab-like pecs, a hard chiseled eight pack, biceps the size of his head were adorned with throbbing networks of veins. His legs were long and powerfully muscled, wrapped in golden toned, vacuum tight skin, every massive muscle was clearly delineated. He was the wet dream of any championship bodybuilder and he knew it, evidenced by the many medals and trophies lining his walls. This was a game he played often, how much porn could he watch without getting off. Sean groaned as he watched the two handsome muscle studs on the screen embracing, their nearly identical limbs wrapping around one another, their rippling abs sliding over each other. His face was becoming flushed as he licked his lips. His right hand was stroking slowly, smoothly up and down the large shaft. Sean grinned and laid his cock flat against his bare torso, relishing the sight of it sliding up between his pecs. Sean’s gaze traveled over his naked body as waves of pleasure washed over him. His muscular thighs, giant cock, and rippling torso filled him with desire and lust. He loved his own body, wanting himself more and more as each stroke filled him with bliss. Sean released his cock and sat up, abs, contracting into a display of defined, youthful muscle. Sean sat up and ran both hands over his shortly clipped, blonde hair. He stood and wandered over to the large mirror across the room and began flexing his chest and abs, grinning as the muscles contracted into fibrous, erotic, bulges and creases. God he looked amazing. He flopped back down on the bed, his cock smacking his hard chest, then raising up slightly off his bare belly. He closed his eyes, utterly horny, stroking his oversized cock. It throbbed with desire in his hands. His whole body writhed in the feeling of building orgasm. He stroked himself to the brink of orgasm again and again. The sounds of fucking eminating from his laptop increased his pleasure as he fondled himself. After some time, Sean had worked himself into a frenzy. Feelings of sex spread all over his body. He moaned softly to himself and continued to torture his steel-hard pole. A little touch here, a slight caress over the tip. The pleasure magnified to near unbearable proportions. Sean thrust his hips up and down, his cock was so hard that it barely even moved, just sticking straight up above his belly. Sweat began beading on his smooth skin. Eyes still closed, he ran his hands down over his bulging chest to his narrow stomach, feeling, caressing, enjoying himself. He didn't need to see his muscles flex to get off on them. He squeezed his biceps, licking the peaks. In a moment, Sean would lose all control over his cock and cum... but this time, something felt different. Something like an orgasm washed over him, but not from his cock. Sean’s body contracted, every muscle rippling into sharp definition. His chest was heaving, mind reeling... and then suddenly, it stopped. Sean was still on the brink of orgasm... but in coming back to reality, he felt another presence in the room. He listened as his breath slowed, his chest rising and falling a bit more evenly... but it wasn’t just his own. Sean could sense a form lying next to him on the bed. He opened his eyes and looked. What he saw was impossible... Sean was literally lying next to himself! For a brief moment, Sean thought he was having an out of body experience. He gazed down past his clamped shut eyes, face in obvious concentration to withhold the oncoming orgasm. He observed his body’s bare torso, watching his chest and stomach rise and fall evenly, his abs contracting with each exhale. He drank in the sight of himself. Light perspiration made his skin shine in the dim light coming through the window. Even in the darkened room, he could clearly make out the outlines of his body’s abdominals and the deep crease in the center of his pecs. His bobbing cock continued to throb mercilessly from his groin. Precum flowed down its length from his extended self pleasure. Sean’s mind brought him back to reality. This didn’t make sense. He could feel the bed underneath him, the weight of his own body... Sean’s heart was pounding, but his head had cleared. His peripheral senses were returning, and he was blissfully aware of his angry cock emitting pangs of pleasure, twitching, on the verge of tumbling him into an immense orgasm. Sean looked down and saw his cock pointing straight at him. Precum was drooling from the head between his pecs. A pool was forming, running through the center crease in his abs to his belly button. It was true, he had actually cloned himself! That realization alone nearly sent him over the edge. With pounding heart and quivering breath, Sean sat up, cock sliding between his pecs. He didn’t dare touch it. Slowly, he got up on his knees, hovering over his own image. Despite his care and caution, his movement on the bed alerted the man below. Sean’s clone opened his eyes, surveying the room, but not moving his head. Sean had noticed that the other man's cock had softened slightly, he seemed just as thrown off as Sean was only a moment before. The head drooped off to one side, painting his right pec with wet, sticky precum. The clone looked downward in the direction of where Sean was kneeling. Their eyes made contact for the first time. A jolt coursed through Sean’s body... his clone must have had the same reaction, because his cock rapidly twitched and stiffened back to the same oversized length as his own. A look of realization spread over the other guy's face, followed by a huge, uncontrollable smile. “I cloned myself???” whispered the sprawling image on the bed. “You're me???” whispered Sean. Instantly, both of their minds were reeling with possibilities. So much to do... so much to try... And there were questions too. How much time do we have? Is this permanent? If it isn’t, where does he go? And then a wicked thought flickered through Sean’s mind: Can I make more? They began eyeing each other greedily, lustfully. The studs flexed and caressed themselves, not even touching each other — Sean was swooning as he was able to see his body twitch and move from different angles. God, he was ripped. What a huge fucking muscle stud! And his monster cock! Fuck! Sean nearly came just from looking at his double. Their cocks were bouncing and pulsating, pressed tight now against their ripped torsos. Sean’s double placed his hands behind his head and crunched his stomach, showing off his beautiful abs for Sean. His clone’s throbbing cock was obscuring much his abs. With shaking hands, Sean reached forward and grasped his image’s penis with his left hand. The organ felt huge and hard. It was hot and heavy and just like his own... except it wasn’t. But somehow he felt the pleasure inside him, as if an invisible connection linked the two of them. The studs moaned together, one being touched, one touching, both identical. Sean pushed the other man's cock to the left, bringing into view his ripped abdominals. The clone's meat leaked a continual stream of pre, the liquid running over the channels of his abs as he flexed, wetting Sean’s hand as he held the giant cock. Slowly, Sean bent forward and licked the other guy's torso, tracing the defined creases of his clone’s stomach muscles. The precum tasted just like his own... wet and thick and a bit salty. The other Sean was taking husky breaths, trying to crunch his abs even harder for his twin, groaning softly at the sight. Sean looked up and grinned. He was straddling his other body now, kneeling with his legs straddling his image's. He released his image’s cock, watching it snap back to its original position. He could see the veins pulsing, cramming blood into the engorged member all the way up its 22.5 inch length. The other stud's balls were pressed tightly against the bottom of his shaft, giant and ready to explode. Slowly, Sean reached with his tongue, giving his clone’s cock a small lick. The man threw his head back and kicked involuntarily, knees smacking Sean in the ass. “Sorry, I was edging for the last hour,” replied his clone. “Yeah... I know” grinned Sean. “I’m you, remember? Or, we’re each other...” That thought alone nearly drove Sean crazy with lust. Sean leaned forward, pressing himself down on top of his other body. Their monster cocks touched first, causing both studs to swoon. Carefully, Sean sandwiched their two steel-hard cocks together, the shafts throbbed against one another, the heads kissed, mixing copious amounts of precum from one cock to the other, trapped between two sets of thick, bulging pecs. Sean laid all the way down, pressing his chest against the identical chest of his twin. He wrapped his arms around the bare back of his clone, who was already softly stroking Sean’s shoulders and down to his sides. The two stared into each other’s eyes. Identical lusts reflected their inner desires. Sean could feel his clone begin to lightly thrust his pelvis, almost imperceptibly rubbing their slick cocks together in the deep cleavage between their pecs. Sean smiled and reciprocated. He gripped his clone harder, and bent to kiss him. Their mouths locked, setting off fireworks inside their heads. Their tongues entered each other’s mouths, wrestling together, sliding along the other's lips. They embraced tighter, Sean’s clone violently pushing him over. Now Sean’s back was against the bed, his hands roaming over his clone’s bare back, enjoying the silky smooth skin, gripping his twin’s firm ass. Their cocks slid over one another as their hands groped each other’s body. Sean was in sensory overload. This was too much. Too good. He gripped his twin and forced him onto his back once again, then began kissing the stud's body with abandon. Squeezing biceps and triceps, cupping pecs, licking nipples identical to his own. This really made the other Sean moan. They both loved that stimulation. Sean felt his dick rubbing over the other's leg as he made his way down the torso. He looked up with a sly smile and said, “I want to suck you.” “Huh, do you think it’s a coincidence that I was thinking the same thing?” grinned his twin. “Not even a little bit” replied Sean. Sean swung his legs around so that his knees were on either side of his clone’s head. He gripped his own cock and pushed it down, playing with his other self. He rubbed his cockhead over the other Sean’s forehead, down his nose, over his cheek, and glanced off his lips. His clone stuck out his tongue, attempting to catch a quick lick. Sean pushed back the other direction, smacking his cock against his twin’s left cheek. Finally, his clone reached up and grabbed Sean’s shaft with his hands. Electricity shot through both of them as all four hands wrapped around Sean’s thick cock. “Ok” breathed Sean. “You can have it.” The other Sean grinned and took the head into his mouth. Sean swooned again, his body jutting forward, pressing his face against his clone’s identical stomach and cock. Both of the giant muscle studs licked and caressed each other's huge cocks and balls before taking them into their mouths. Sean reached up and jammed his clone’s penis into his mouth. It felt amazing, as if he had two cocks being sucked off at once; which in a way, he did. He heard his clone moan around his own cock. He took some of the shaft in, tracing the large vein of his cock’s underside with the tip of his fingers. Sean just could barely open wide enough... but there was no way he was going to be able to take it all in. He said quietly, “God, we’re so fucking huge.” His cock twitched inside his twin’s mouth. The other Sean released it, chuckling. “Couple of horse hung musclestuds, right Sean?” “Yeah, Sean.” Both guys laughed before throating each other once again. Magnificent, sweaty, muscular bodies writhed in ecstasy. They continued pleasuring each other for a few more minutes, until they were both getting close. Without a word spoken between them, they released each other and stood up off the bed. Sean flicked on the lights and the two sat down on the edge of the bed. They wrapped their arms around each other. Their heads pressed together, but eyes closed as they slowly adjusted to the bright light in the room. They looked into the mirror and witnessed the most erotic sight of his life. Two naked, identical musclegods, rubbing each other’s bare bodies, their massive cocks jutting up from their groins between each other's pecs, crossed like swords. With their legs spread, their heavy testicles hung low off the side of the bed. Sean’s double grinned and leaned over. He began pulling on Sean’s large ballsack. Sean grinned, “God, I love how that feels.” His twin sat up, and Sean repeated the actions on his large balls. Sean could feel hands running up and down his bare side. Simultaneously, the identical studs reached out with their opposite hands and began fondling each other’s giant penises. They began stroking in earnest, pounding their oversized cocks, occasionally leaning down to steal a lick from their spurting cockheads. Sean looked down at the display of identical muscle and cock, his twin did the same. They shifted their gazes back and forth between the mirror and their bodies, feeling the pleasure welling up inside of them. Sean could feel the eruption coming. The two began crying out. Just before orgasm hit, Sean felt that same odd sensation he had felt just before he cloned himself. He looked at the mirror and suddenly, on his left side, another Sean materialized. Standing over the two of them, the new clone's mouth was hanging open, abs flexing, left hand flying up and down on his own enormous cock. With the realization that Sean could clone himself more than once, the dam broke, and orgasm took over. He began erupting all over his own chest, both of them. The sight of Sean releasing carried the two clones over the edge. Sean could feel his other bodies' cocks swell up and begin blasting out their own loads. The first clone moaned as he leaned over, drinking from Sean's cock with ravenous hunger. Sean groaned as he felt his double throat his meat while hot cum sprayed him in the face from two identical dicks. The third Sean stood in front of the two seated studs and roared, thrusting his hips towards the other two as he erupted. His beast pointed straight at their identical torsos, burying them in white. The two seated Seans took turns swallowing jets of jizz from the erupting member. Cum spraying onto their chests and abs. Sean could feel all three orgasms at once, giving him the most intense pleasure he'd ever felt. He knew the clones were experiencing the same thing. They leaned against each other for support as they twitched and shuddered. Bodies heaving after five whole minutes of cumming, the triplets’ pleasure began to finally subside. Sean and his clones still had their hands wrapped around each other’s cocks, but were now stroking slowly, milking out the last of their juices. “Amazing” the three Sean’s said at once. They slowly released each other and laid down, wrapping their limbs around each other. Sean was in the middle, his cock wedged firmly between his pecs, the large poles of his clones sliding against his chest as they turned towards him. “I love you guys” he said. The three smiled at each other. No words needed to be said. The other Seans were exact copies of the original… identical in lust and desire. They paused for just a moment to adjust positions. Skin to skin. The three gripped their large bobbing cocks with their left hands, then paused at the same moment to pull their large ball sacks from between their legs into a more comfortable position. They giggled at the identical gesture, their abs rippling into a display of 24 bulging abs, and began stroking again. Sean could feel the biceps and triceps of his clone’s arm flexing against him as he masturbated himself. With their other hands, they stroked and squeezed each other's arms and pecs. Sean #2 gripped the original and pulled him closer and the two began kissing. Sean rolled on top of him, running his hands all over the Sean on the bottom, feeling his hard chest and abs. His cock was rubbing along the creases of the other man's abs. He leaned down and kissed his image. The Sean on the bottom’s cock was pointing straight up between the muscle stud's ass, leaking pre once more. His hands were at his sides, allowing full access to his perfect body. The sight was fiercely erotic. The third Sean pulled out a bottle of massage oil off the nightstand. Quickly, he unscrewed the cap, lifted the top, and squeezed the bottle. He felt the greasy oil flow down over his neck and shoulders, down his chest and stomach. Thick rivets were running all over him. Sean put down the bottle and began massaging the liquid into his own body. In seconds, he was gleaming from head to toe, setting off his muscles in an incredible display. He gripped his throbbing cock, smearing the oil all over it with both hands, shivering at the intense sensations. “Hey guys” he called to his images. They broke their kiss and looked over, mouths agape. “Don’t you think this would be easier with a little oil?” Sean asked innocently, flexing his stomach and biceps. His muscles popped, and the studs grinned in anticipation. The original Sean on top flopped down on the bed next to his twin. Sean #3 sat up and began drenching their identical bodies with oil. Their hands kneaded in the slick liquid. Sean tossed the bottle away. Soon, all three of their naked bodies were glistening. Their slippery bodies glided against each other. Sean’s oiled cock slid easily against his twin’s bare ass. Sean’s whole body twitched involuntarily as his cock head slid between his image’s legs, poking up against an identical ballsack and thick shaft. He felt hands massaging his cock against the other, feeling his own bulbous head sliding against his image’s oily cockshaft. The horny studs groaned. Sean pressed his forehead against the back of his clone’s neck, sliding it down the length of his bare back, licking the oiled skin as he went. Sean then gently pushed Sean #3 forward, so that he was lying on top of the clone on his back on the bed. The two began making out wildly. Sean stroked his shaft slowly, enjoying the self-love below him. Their cocks were pressed hard together, pulsating as one. Hands caressed identical muscles and flesh. Sean laid on top of the two of them, sandwiching his dick between his chest and his image's back. His butt muscles flexed and relaxed in rhythm as he humped his two copies, pre oozing out from the small of Sean 3's back. The juice trickled down and rolled underneath him to moisten his abs. After some time, Sean gripped the clone on top from behind around the chest and lifted him up again. The two reluctantly separated, grabbing with their hands for each other’s naked bodies, but couldn’t grip each other with their slick skin. Whispering in his Sean 3’s ear, he said, “We’re going to double fuck you.” The stud moaned in anticipation. Sean lifted the giant muscleman easily, lining up the huge pole of the clone underneath. Three identical hands guided the large shaft to the opening. “Ohhhh” moaned the twin underneath. He was clearly enjoying the sensation of his sensitive cockhead pressed up against his tight hole, with his stomach sucked in and chest pushed out. He then thrust slightly, abs flexing as his cock buried itself in an ass just like his own. "Oh my god!" he groaned through gritted teeth. "Fuck that thing is thick." The lower Sean smiled as he gripped his clone's hips and plowed his cock into his image with greater force, pulling him down until his huge balls made a loud slapping sound as they hit his ass. "Oh fuck yeah!" Sean #3 cried out. "Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! That's a big fucking cock!" The other Sean leaned forward and they continued sucking on each other’s faces. Sean could see his clone’s cock pumping slowly in and out. Crazed with lust, Sean stroked his cock, pumping it up just a bit more, then lined up his own goliath member. The other’s paused as he entered. He could hear his twin moaning softly as his cock joined his twin’s. Sean pushed. Slowly and easily, his cock slid in on top of his identical brother’s. Sean could feel the other monster pole throbbing against his. Finally, their cock head’s touched inside the other Sean’s ass. The Sean he was entering reared up slightly, all of his back muscles on display, glistening and shredding with taut muscle. Sean ran his hands over it, feeling the hardness of his twin’s body. “I can feel you inside of him,” Sean #2 said. The other Sean moaned, “God, you two feel so huge inside of me.” “Yeah, I can feel our heads rubbing together… awwww… feels tooo gooood.” “Look at all this hard muscle…. Damn, we are amazing.” The Sean being fucked was on his hands and knees, his triceps corded into defined horseshoes. Sean felt the hard muscles of the boy’s stomach and chest. He glanced down at his own flexing body and groaned loudly. All of the Seans were. Three voices blending into one. “God, I feel you… both of you…” “We’re together… the same” moaned the Sean underneath. "FUCK!" Sean #3 gasped. "I fucking love this! Fuck me! Fuck me dudes!" Sean pulled his cock as far out as he could, then started pumping his cock in and out as fast as his pulsing, hulking muscles would allow. “Gonna fucking cum!” Sean began thrusting harder, could feel an identical pole thrusting harder alongside his own. Suddenly, the twin being fucked reared up again. His eyes were rolling, cock flopping against his abs, twitching for release. “Ohhh fuck, here I cum!” Without even touching his cock, Sean #3 began spraying his load. It sprayed all over Sean #2's face and chest, volley after volley hitting the headboard and the wall behind it. Sean reached around as his twin began forcing out the rest of his load. They moaned together as he released, pushing Sean and his other image over the edge. The two giants thrust together, then held their cocks deep inside the other Sean, their cocks pulsating and pumping their cum into his perfect ass. Both of their bodies flexed into granite. Sean looked down, catching the eye of his image as they orgasmed. Time stopped. Ropes of cum shot deep inside Sean #3, filling all of the space around the two huge cocks, and then flowing out of his pussy and joining the huge puddle of cum between the three of them. He looked at his clone's red-flushed face, down over his veined chest and biceps, to his rippling, bulging abs. The Sean in the middle began rubbing his cum into the channels, feeling the hardness of the muscles. Two minutes into his orgasm, Sean felt another orgasm building inside him. He started quickly thrusting back and forth into his handsome clone again, still shooting thick ropes of cum. Finally he pushed all the way in again, and released a second massive orgasm on top of the one he was already having. It was amazing. His cock had become a fire hose spraying an unending jet of thick, glorious cum. The two other Sean's moaned as they felt the new wave of hot jizz. The three identical musclegods collapsed onto each other, two still wedged tightly into the one. All heaving with unimaginable pleasure. Finally Sean stopped shooting. The three of them remained locked together for a moment, all of them panting to catch their breath. He uncorked himself from his image, and Sean #3 rolled off his twin. His copies were completely coated in cum, sweat, and oil. The bed and wall in front of them buried in white. Cum was still leaking from their cocks as they rested next to each other, casually leaning into the thick puddles of seed. Sean admired the scene, his own meat still dripping jizz onto the two of them. Their combined emissions filled the deep crevices of their massive pecs and abs, oozing off the bed. He smirked at that. He laid down next to them, the king-sized bed forcing them to squeeze shoulder to shoulder to fit. "Fucking trio of muscle gods," he said, smiling at his two copies. His horniness barely waned from all of their orgasms; his mind was running wild with more smutty ideas as sweat and cum dripped down his body. "Aw fuck yeah dude... Look at all this fucking meat!" Sean #2 groaned as the three of them laid in post-orgasmic bliss. They lazily hefted their heavy cocks, playing with them as they leaked the last dribbles of cum. Sean gripped his doubles and pulled them closer and the three began kissing again. Their hands never left their cocks, stroking themselves back to hardness. Soon, the feeling took hold of all three. “It’s happening,” whispered the clone. Sean’s next body actually sauntered into the room from the hallway, his big, dripping cock leading the way. Grinning, he said, “Well you guys look comfortable.” Sean’s clone curled his pointer finger inward as he licked his lips. “Join us” he replied. The clone obliged, slowly sauntering towards them. Before sitting, the clone kneeled in front of Sean. Winking, he leaned forward and wrapped his hands around Sean’s, who was still gripping his large cock. He pointed the organ down and slid his mouth over the head sucking deeply, flicking the underside with his tongue. This sent Sean into orbit. He pushed his hips forward, thrusting his cock deeper into the other Sean’s throat. After a couple of quick licks up the shaft, the teen moved on to Sean #2 and repeated the actions. Then with 3. With all this identical muscle, Sean was near blowing his load…even after cumming so many times already. He stood up and stretched. His clones spread out a bit on the bed with the extra space, eyes glazing as they watched Sean stretch and flex his bulging muscles. Sean flexed his cock muscles, causing the 22.5-inch penis to bounce up and down. Sean felt three sets of eyes on him and looked up grinning. “You like that?” The three identical studs nodded together, their breathing heavy. Their hands were slowly rubbing over their own bodies, kneading and caressing the muscles of their bulging chests and arms. Sean gripped his cock with both hands and flexed his arms. A large vein popped out, snaking over his bulging biceps muscles. His chest flexed, revealing fibrous muscles. His abs looked like cobblestone pavement. Sean brought an arm up and flexed, licking slowly and sensually the head sized bicep that was throbbing with power. "Fuck..." he moaned, flexing this way and that, posing for himself and his copies. With every flex he felt a new level of pleasure, as though it were flowing in his blood and into his muscles. He wanted more and more of this feeling, and soon found himself flexing so hard he was panting. Pleasure overtook all of them again, and a fifth Sean walked through the door. His eyes flamed with lust, and he walked slowly, sensually, towards Sean, making sure his thighs flexed with every step, swinging his arms just enough that his pecs bounced. He flexed his stomach, his washboard abs gleaming with the sweat that was coating them. "Dude..." he whispered when he approached the muscle god. The clone looked at Sean for all but five seconds before shoving his tongue into his mouth. They touched each other all over - squeezing muscles, grinding their bodies against one another, tongue intertwined. Sean's hands grabbed the image's bottom, squeezing firmly. Meanwhile, the clones on the bed began to feel each other up once more. One man's hands were roaming the other's ripped backside, slapping his muscle, squeezing his ass. The three of them locked in a deep kisses that effortlessly went from one to another. They were moaning loudly, tongues roaming each other's bodies. One's tongue was trailing the lines of muscle of the second's abs, the latter throwing his head back and howling with delight. “Jack me” Sean whispered to Sean #5. The clone grinned at him. He stepped behind Sean and wrapped his arms around him. Sean leaned against the other stud's rock-like body. He could feel his twin’s hard cock sandwiched between them, burning with desire against his bare back. Sean laid his head against his double’s shoulder as his image ran his hands up and down his bare torso, feeling the bulging muscles of his chest and stomach. Sean flexed in reply. "Aw fuck yeah dude! You love this muscle don't you? Yeah, squeeze those hard fucking pecs, man." Sean groaned in pleasure. The clone wrapped his right arm around Sean’s chest as his left hand snaked down and began stroking Sean’s engorged pole. Sean was in heaven. He caressed himself and his image, his hands free now that his twin was manipulating his large organ. Three hands were all over his body. Sean began thrusting his hips, fucking his twin’s hand as it flew up and down his shaft. Sweat was beading on all of the studs, Sean could feel droplets running over the rivets of his muscles. He pushed himself back against his other self and put his left hand over his twin’s. They entwined fingers around his thick shaft and continued stroking. Sean looked down at his clones making out on the floor. Their heaving chests and abs were gleaming, identical muscles flexed in sharp relief. Each of their hands were wrapped around another’s cock, flying up and down. Three sets of balls flopping against the knuckles of the hand on the shaft. Their faces glazed and mouths open, moaning in pleasure. Orgasm nearly overtook him… but the sensation shot through him one more time. The 6th Sean materialized directly in front of him, his massive cock pointed directly at his face. Sean #5 stopped stroking as they looked up to greet the latest addition. The clone smiled back at them and pushed his identical cock and balls against Sean’s. Their two gorgeous cocks thrusted up from their groins, burning shafts pressed tightly together. Precum oozed from both heads, mixing together, running down over their veiny poles. He leaned forward and kissed Sean, cocks now pressing against their identical chests. Sean #5 leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Sean and the clone in front, sandwiching themselves together, and kissed his bare shoulders. Sean was beyond thought or reason. He could feel hands all over, worshipping his body. He could hear moans and groans coming from all directions, all sounding exactly like his own. Sean #6 released the kiss and gripped their shafts with both hands. Sean wrapped his hands around the two of them, and they began jacking their cocks against each other. With a groan, Sean grabbed the newcomer's head and drove his raging hard cock into his mouth. Sean #6 soon had his hands wrapped around the stud's muscle hard bubble ass as the nearly 2-foot long cock slid down his throat. But he was also losing his footing, and would topple over, helped by a lust filled Sean #5 who moved around the two of them and aimed his hard cock up the clone's ass. Sean #3 was right behind him, getting off the bed and sliding between Sean 5's legs, the twin monster cocks both going up Sean #6's ass at nearly the same time. Not to be left out, Sean #3 reached around and lovingly stroked and sucked on the cockhead of Sean 6 the moment he was all the way in. Seans 2 and 4 remained on the bed, stroking each other as they watched the orgy unfolding, the puddles of precum on their chests growing larger at the sight of all the intertwining muscle. Sean #2 rolled over and got on his knees in front of the other clone, his massive cock presenting itself in front of image's lips. Sean #4 immediately took it in his mouth, sucking hard. Sean 2 nearly fell back in pleasure; he thrust into the twin's mouth, and soon he was being deepthroated by his twin. Sean 4's cock bounced on his chest, spurting pre all over his chest and Sean #2's back, who grabbed the pillar of meat and jerked it roughly as he thrust into his twin's mouth, spit and precum splashing all over. Soon Sean #2 erupted, dumping pints of cum into the twin, which spurted out of the sides of Sean #4's mouth and out his nostrils. Still, it wasn't enough. Both wanted more. Sean #2 pulled out of his image's mouth, who seemed to read his twin's mind and flipped onto his stomach, cock sticking out of his side, oozing more and more precum. Sean #2 spread the twin's cheeks wide before driving his massive rod into his partner. "FUUUCK!" Sean #4 roared, his back rippling and tense, arms wrapped around the bed as his twin relentlessly fucked him, going until his balls touched the man's rump before coming all the way out and slamming himself back in, sending massive amount of cum to squelch out of the muscled rump. The two came in unison soon after, flooding the bed. Meanwhile, the group of four had changed positions after flooding Sean #6 from both ends. The clone had erupted in the process as well, falling to the floor as jizz poured out of him from both ends. Sean stood over his image, making out with Sean #5 as the clone jerked his still throbbing dick. "Aw yeah dude, like that dick?" Sean said. "It's so fucking huge..." the clone marveled, touching the massive meat, lifting his gigantic balls, rubbing his ripped and muscled body. "I can't believe how hot you are...we are..." "Aw yeah, just looking at us makes me cum," he said, winking. "Think you can take this big cock?" Without a word, Sean #5 smiled and straddled the muscle god, impaling himself on the raging hard cock. Sean #3 lined up behind Sean, forcing his massive meat deep into him. Sean moaned and reached backwards, grabbing his head and kissing him roughly. The three fucked in tandem, falling to the ground so Sean #6 could sixty-nine with Sean 5, the tangle of flexing muscle moaning as one until Sean #5 cried out from the dual stimulation, his cock exploding in a large fountain of cum, coating the clone sucking him in his spunk. Gagging, Sean #6 fell back and pulled his cock out as his partner coated him in warm spunk. "Yeah, shoot all over me..." he moaned. The thrusting of the other Seans soon became too sloppy, however, and they erupted as well, torrents of seed flooding their asses. They pulled out of each other, wrapping their hands around their rods and jerking ferociously. The four of them swapped spit as their cocks, sandwiched between their bodies, exploded all over them. Sean #3 wrapped his legs around Sean's waist, and the stud managed to shove his cock into the clone, fucking him silly while he orgasmed. The remaining two clones slid to the floor, joining their duplicates as the muscle studs formed a vast elaborate network of probed mouths and asses, their loins burning with wild desire. They thrust, grunted and groaned, those whose mouth's weren't full that is. The Seans eventually reached orgasm almost all at once, no more then a minute separated each one's monstrous orgasm. They were like a wild living fountain of pure sex, cocks spurting, mouths filled and asses filled to overflowing. Cum sprayed everywhere, dowsing the whole room with thick, rich spew. Finally, they all sat back, exhausted. His bodies sprawled all over the room, legs splayed in different ways, muscles flexed or relaxed, but they all had the same face. Content, blissful smiles filled the room. A heap of sweating, cum covered muscle covered the bed and floor. Sean lay there for a few minutes just breathing heavy and basking in what was the most incredible sex of his life. Despite all the action, his giant cock was staring him in the face, almost literally. He flexed it a time or two and it slapped against his gut with a deep thwack. His lips curled into a smile as he had another horny idea. He reached under the bed and pulled out his massive cock pump. The custom-built machine had a tube 3 feet long. The other Seans watched with big, lazy grins, limbs stretched out as they relaxed. "I wonder..." Sean said out loud as he slipped the giant tube over his half-hard meat. He switched it on and immediately all six of them groaned out in unison as they felt the suction pull their massive cocks instantly to erection. The gargantuan cock began to fill up the pump. The tip quickly passed the 2 foot mark with no sign of slowing down. Veins throbbed as the blood engorged monster grew and grew. Simultaneously, his clones' cocks grew at the same rate, as if they too were filling their own respective pumps. They all moaned as they passed 30 inches and kept growing. The two Seans closest to him sat up and began to lick Sean's chest, rubbing their growing dicks against his body, urging him to grow more. The clones turned toward Sean, circled together around him. Closer and closer they inched, until they were standing hip to hip, toe to toe. Sean’s hands felt and squeezed the muscles of his clones’ biceps and triceps. Inside the circle, six pairs of eyes focused on the giant cock being pumped, five identical cocks pressed tightly against it, smearing the outside of the pump with pre as they grew. Heavy breathing and groaning filled the room. They were staring hungrily at each other. Hands were roaming over their naked bodies, caressing idly. He felt connected to all of them, after all, he was them. His cock swelled and his clones’ big cocks responded, growing upwards. "AHHHH. UHHHH..." he moaned, eyes clenched tight. It was like he was having sex times ten! His tongue was sticking out, mouth open in bliss as he felt his cock growing. Sean turned slowly, enjoying the sight of his multiplied body as his meat expanded inch by inch. He reached for one of the clones, caressing his pecs, another’s hard abs. He drew another in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around the twin, feeling the firm muscles of his back. He licked nipples, massaged biceps. His clones were all getting off on his self-worship. Finally, his cock completely filled the tube. Sean kept pumping. The six of them moaned in unison as they felt the pressure inside their now 3-foot-long members increase, each of them on the verge of cumming. The sound of cracking plastic was audible as the pump struggled to contain the monster cock. “Rip outta there!” “Bulge out, bulge out!!!” The clones cheered Sean on. He flexed his cock and the plastic split apart with a loud crack as his monster muscle cock burst out. Cries of amazement erupted from the room and their hungry eyes looked upon Sean's endowment. "OH SHIT!" Sean exclaimed. The two clones closest to him grabbed the three-foot long monster cock in awe. He humped into their palms as his pole throbbed, veins popping up and down his shaft. He grabbed the base and thumped his cock against his body, precum splattering out and flying in all directions. The three of them moved to the center of the circle, the two Sean clones dropping to their knees in front of the original. Sean #2 got between Sean's legs and started to suckle and lick his low hanging orbs. Sean #3 sucked on Sean's cock, both running their hands all over his body, grinding against the muscleman. The other three clones wrapped around them, gripping their own oversized equipment, massaging Sean’s body with their cocks. Sean moaned as three throbbing cocks rubbed over his naked body, smearing cum over his taut muscles. "Yes..." Sean moaned. "Gonna cum so hard...gonna feel so good..." Sean #3 gagged on the huge member. Sean #2 moved up to join him, licking it all over, making it throb and twitch, precum spurting out of Sean 3's mouth, veins pulsating all over the pillar of meat. "Gonna cum...so close..." Sean moaned. The clones all jerked Sean's cock with one hand a piece, their other hands busily jacking their own throbbing dicks. Eight hands wrapped around his massive dick with room to spare. Pre from his clones added to the lubrication provided by the throbbing rod, the spurts of hot liquid splashing on each other eliciting short bursts of pleasure in each of them. Sean could feel his balls tightening. His eyes glazed and he began groaning loudly. Soon all six of them were. Their identical lusts began building on each other. All of them were thrusting and flexing. Their cocks began thickening up one more time. It was coming. “Awww fuck…” “Let’s do it guys…” “Yeah, together…” “All this identical muscle…” “Look at our cocks dude, so fucking huge… getting bigger” “Ohhh, awww, yessss, awww fuck!” "Oh God...Oh...GOD! UHHH!" Sean's entire body flexed. His hands behind his head, eight pack crunched, pecs exploding outward, legs tense but trembling, his orgasm hit. Cum shot out of him like a firehose. "YES! FUCK! YES!" he roared, the sight of him cumming so hot that the clones erupted as well. They screamed as they released their loads. All of their bodies tightened, chests thrusted out, stomachs caving in. The combined feeling of cum rocketing out of six 36-inch long monster cocks was more intense than Sean could have imagined. Every one of them felt each others' orgasms multiplied with their own, layering one on top of the other. Soon all six of them were shooting uninterrupted streams of white, drenching the walls, the bed, and everything else in the room. Sean took hold of his own cock and thrust into the air, completely hosing down his duplicates. The guys took turns placing their warm lips around his cock head and drinking down his jizz. They writhed on the ground, rubbing all that spunk onto their bodies, wrapping themselves around each other, shoving their gushing rods into the nearest mouth or ass. They rode out their mindblowing orgasms together, filling and feeding each other from their seemingly bottomless nuts until finally their orgasms came to an end. As the six muscle gods sprawled out on the cum-flooded floor, Sean closed his eyes, finally sated. Sean opened his eyes with a start. His eyes darted around his room, his mind trying to discern his current location. It took him a while to warp back to reality. It was daylight, and he was alone in his room. No evidence of the sea of jizz and bodies from the evening could be found. He sighed and stretched, but quickly stopped when he felt something strange. He lifted his sheets and saw that his chest were dripping with his spunk. He laughed. He hadn't had a wet dream in a while.

Thanks Jtchef2 for your continued support. I've begun editing Chapter 3 which hopefully will be ready by next weekend. Dennis

Thank you so much. Your wonderful pictures helped me to reach this wonderful story. Hope you also get unexpected and great surprises

I feel bad for Carnitas (piggy!)... I want him to find fulfilment with the Steamrollers. Maybe he falls for the cultishness, but Shaw pulls him out of it. He gets strong enough to handle Stark, and stop the popping murders. Then at the end we see what happens when a steamroller is also on Athenabol

POP, Part 5 “In the red corner,” bellowed the MMA announcer, “standing at 6’6” and breaking the scale at 450 lbs of massive cop-muscle. It’s Steve ‘The Mount Rushmore of Meat’ Carnitas!” Steve shadowboxed in his corner, pumping his massive fists like pistons, and stomping his feet like a bull. The ring shook under the weight of his huge muscles. “Fuck yeah, bring it on!” He screamed across the ring at his opponent. “And in the blue corner, standing at 5’8” and weighing in at 150 lbs of Italian steel, it’s Vinny ‘The Shiv’ Crisco.” The lean, mean mob enforcer sneered across the ring at the cop and flexed his ultra-hard biceps, the muscles mounding upwards into cascading piles of ropey knots. “That’s right, bitch, get a load of me.” Vinny twisted his wrists and a second peak bulged up from the muscle. Then he flexed harder and a freaky third peak popped out the top like a cockhead out of a foreskin. “Come suck on this, faggot, since you like muscles so much.” Steve grit his teeth as he watched Vinny lower those brutally strong arms and throw an uncanny blur of punches in the air. He steeled his nerves; he wouldn’t get beaten by this evil gnome again. The combatants met in the center of the ring and the ref was about to give the starting signal when he stopped and shook his head. “This fight cannot continue, both fighters must be in the same weight class.” “Nothing’s going to stop me from smashing this punk,” Steve growled. “It’s payback time.” “Don’t strain your pea-sized brain,” said Crisco. “I’m mob, we know how to fix the odds.” The slick mafioso slid under Carnitas’ legs and tore his boxing shorts right off his waist as he ducked through the slim space between the detective’s massive quads. “What the fuck are you doing?” “I’m doing what a man does, faggot. I’m taking what I want with my own hands.” Bracing his left hand on Carnitas’s back, Vinny swung a pulverizing uppercut punch straight between Steve’s glutes, burying his forearm up to the elbow. “Ahhhgh!” Steve screamed, “My ass! My ass! He’s busted my hole!!” “I’ll allow it,” said the ref. “No one to save you now, bitch,” Vinny sneered. Steve whimpered as he felt the muscles of his prized physique wobble. A sound like air leaking out of a balloon filled his ears and he panicked as his muscles begin to shrink. “No…” “Aw yeah,” Vinny growled as he absorbed the muscle-cop’s mass like his arm was a hose draining a vat. His lean hairy pecs swelled into slabs, then rounded boulders. His strong legs thickened from a sprinter’s lean muscle to the size of a horse’s haunches. He admired his free arm as meat spooled around it, forming huge triceps and biceps and delts Steve sobbed, horrified as his ass tore under pressure from Vinny’s forearm, bloated up with stolen muscle. Each of the cop’s muscles was softening, shrinking and weakening as the tough mafioso claimed his gym-honed strength for himself. Finally the ref said: “That’s enough, back to your corners. “Heh heh,” Vinny chuckled as he lifted Steve into the air, pitching him into his corner with a wave of his arm. The detective tumbled into a pathetic heap, and painfully got to his feet as blood dripped from his ravaged anus. Steve turned around slowly, his ass on fire, his heart racing as he took in the knee-weakening sight of his transformed nemesis. “Each fighter is now 300 lbs,” called the ref. “Fight’s on!” But to call the match even was a joke. Carnitas stood, 300 lbs of flabby flesh in loose-hanging skin, literally pissing himself as Vinny Crisco streaked across the ring, wearing the 300 lbs of stolen muscles on his 5’8” frame like a Ferrari crossed with a Sherman tank. “Take your best shot, pig.” Crisco raised his hands and placed them behind his head in the classic pose of surrender, but it was Carnitas who wanted to give up. Veins and striations streaked across his arms and pecs as their mass challenged the laws of physics. His long glossy black hair fell onto traps thicker than a Brahma bull. His abs could pave a whole Italian village in cobblestones. In desperation, he hooked punches left and right into that body and screamed as his fists shattered into bloody stumps. The evil hit man just chuckled. “My turn. Lights out, motherfucker.” Vinny’s nuclear punch broke the speed of sound as it rocketed the broken cop out of the ring in a linear trajectory to the back wall of the arena, high above the cheap seats. Blinded by the collapse of his face into his skull, Steve’s only sensation was his loose skin flapping like a sail in a windstorm in the two seconds before his body splattered against the concrete wall. ... “Huhhhhhnnnnnn!” Steve gasped as he woke suddenly from the nightmare, heart racing. He flopped out of his bed in a panic, his sweaty body tangled in his bedsheets. He tried to calm his breathing. “You’re okay, he can’t hurt you, he’s dead. It was just a nightmare." With a groan, he got to his feet. As the bedclothes slipped from his body, he caught a glimpse of himself in his bedroom mirror. Yeah, a nightmare I’m still living. *** “Let me guess, low blood sugar?” It’d been seven days since Detective Steve Carnitas had left his apartment. He knew that Flint would soon replace him on the case if he didn’t get back to work, but that seemed impossible. There was only one week left of the Camp Steamroller retreat, and Shaw was losing his mind with Steve ignoring his texts. Carnitas had made a desperate call. “Thanks for coming, doc,” he croaked. Dr Harry Stain walked in with his crime scene bag. He cast his eyes over Steve’s body, from toe to top. “I had my line all ready: ‘You do know my patients are usually dead, Steve.’ But seeing as how you look half-way there I guess I’ll do what I can.” “So if I’m your patient now, you gotta keep what I tell you confidential, right?” Stain snorted. “I’m going to regret taking this phone call, aren’t I?” *** “So let me get this straight. You were coming home late after the motel takedown when someone slugged you in the back of the head with a fire extinguisher, and then anally raped you with said fire extinguisher. Now you can’t hold your shit together, literally. You’ve stopped eating solid food, since you can’t shit, and have lost a staggering 150 lbs in one week, a third of your body weight. That about it?” Steve nodded, holding his breath. “This have anything to do with the pop case?” “No!” Steve interjected, much too quickly. Stain’s eyes narrowed and he folded his arms as he stood in the bathroom door. Carnitas was sitting on the can. Even the chicken broth he was surviving on produced something, and it was either this or have another accident right in front of the pathologist. “You’ve got facial injuries, you must have seen your assailant.” “I didn’t, those are from the motel job.” “Steve, I read the electronic report you filed. You got hit in the nose and the right eye. Where did the broken teeth, torn lip and foot-shaped bruise on your forehead come from?” Steve had worried about this; Stain was too shrewd. “Look Dr Snoop, I don’t need a detective. My ass is wrecked. I need a physician.” “I just told you that I’m obliged to keep this confidential. Why are you lying to me?” Because, thought Steve, I know that confidentiality doesn’t extend to murder. And there was no way he was going to get Jonah Brick thrown in jail over a shitstain like Vinny Crisco. He recalled Brick’s words: Remember one thing. This was not your fault. “Bullshit,” Steve said out loud, his eyes welling up. “No. No, no.” Stain held his hands and backed away. “I don’t do tears.” Carnitas wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “You call that a fucking bedside manner?” “My bedside is a mortuary table.” “Ugh. You are such a bastard.” “Look, Steve. If you’re incontinent, that means the inner sphincter is compromised. You need a rectal surgeon. That means a hospital.” “No. No hospitals.” Stain put on his coat. “Well good luck with that, then. Next time you think to call me to waste my time, don’t.” And he was out the door. “Asshole!” Steve yelled, punching the tiled wall. He shook out his hand. A week ago, he would have punched a hole into the other room. “Weakling. Stupid, ugly, shrunken weakling.” His phone pinged. He looked at the screen. What the hell? He opened the Facebook app. New message request from Garrett Shaw: You’re making me resort to Facebook? Just for that I’m going to suplex your hypothyroid ass until your body crumbles in my hands like grandma’s biscuits. Call me. Steve’s stomach was stabbed with a hunger pang. Did he have to refer to food, goddamnit. Steve was about to put the phone down when he saw an ad pop up on his feed: ASSHOLE WRECKED? YOU NEED A RECTAL SURGEON. NO HOSPITALS, NO QUESTIONS ASKED. DR. DARIUS ASFARGHI. NATUROPATHIC SURGEON. 1-800-DRR-ASSS. Steven blinked in disbelief. “The goddamned Zuckerburg surveillance state comes through.” He shook his head in amazement and thumbed up the call. *** “Just so you know, he’s a bit on the rough side,” said the no-nonsense dyke nurse, Sharon, as she finished counting out the cash fee, six thousand dollars in small bills. “But his patients are mostly bottoms, so they like that.” Carnitas lay naked on the surgery table with his legs up in stirrups. “What makes you think I’m a bottom?” She raised a pierced eyebrow. “Didn’t you say this happened while you were shoving a fire extinguisher up your ass?” “Oh, right.” “If that was a lie, I really don’t want to hear the real story.” She turned to leave. “Wait, aren't you staying to assist?” “Oh he won’t need any help. Plus, I can’t stand the smoke. Allergies.” “Huh? Wait, one more question. What’s a naturopathic surgeon?” “You’ll see, Pinocchio.” Steve reflected on how bad a liar he’d been this past week. He needed to eat again, not only to gain back the mass, but for his brain. How was he going to manage an undercover job, let alone keep his story straight if he was questioned in Crisco’s disappearance, if he couldn’t even fool a nurse at a dead-end, probably illegal clinic. His reverie was interrupted by a bang as Dr. Asfarghi kicked open the swinging doors and entered, carrying a surgical tray, and smoking a fat cigar. He dropped the tray on a stand near the end of the table and then stood at Carnitas’ feet. He was 6’5”, 320 lbs of utterly masculine Persian-American muscle-stud. “What have we got here?” “Well, it’s a bit of a long story, Dr. Asferg… OW!” The doctor slapped the inside of his knees to open his legs wider, with a hairy hand the size of a textbook. “Just call me Dr. Ass. You think I want the name of my line mangled by your pissant diction? It was a rhetorical question. It’s always the same story with you faggots.” “You can’t talk to me like that… OHHH!” Steve moaned and arched his back like a whore. His dick, plump from the moment Asfarghi walked in the room, shot instantly rigid as the doctor shoved four thick hairy fingers into his broken hole. “Yes, same story.” He pushed deeper and Steve gasped, nearly blasting a week’s load of cum into his own face. “Both sphincters. Bite off more than you could chew?” Change the subject, Steve. He pointed to the janitor’s sink on the left side of the room. “Hey you didn’t… What do you call it, scrub?” “It’s ass, idiot. I don’t scrub before these cases, I scrub after. Any more stupid questions?” “... No.” Dr Asfarghi stuck his thumb in to join the fingers in a fist. “No, what?” “OHH… No… sir…?” “Now you’re getting it.” He withdrew his hand and Steve’s face fell as he experienced an emptiness that was physical and emotional. The surgeon’s lip curled into a smirk. “Don’t cry, boy. When I’m done with you, you’ll be nice and tight for Daddy. But no more faggy writhing, this isn’t pole-dance class.” Carnitas winced as the doctor slapped a heavy glass ashtray on his abs, and then slapped his phone next to it. He tapped off the ash at the end of his cigar and then put on an earpiece. “I thought you couldn’t smoke in a hospital.” “You blind as well as dumb? This look like a hospital to you?” He tapped his earpiece as he sat on the stool. “Put me through to my trainer, Sharon.” The surgeon pulled a head lamp on an elastic band onto his forehead. “What the hell?” Steve objected. “You can’t take a personal call in the middle of—” “Shut it, nancy. Men are talking. Yo, Stark!” Steve’s ears pricked up. Yeah, shut it, nancy, he told himself. “Tell me more about this investment opportunity,” said the surgeon, his head dipping below Steve’s line of sight. He paused to spit a wet glob on Carnitas’ hole. “This Steamroller thing. You really think it’s got potential?” He spat again and massaged Steve’s anus with his big thumb. His other hand reached over and knocked more ash off the cigar. “I’m not interested in going all in on a fad. Nobody remembers the Thigh-Master.” Steve couldn’t hear the dialogue of the response, but the tinny earpiece speaker couldn’t obscure the power of the voice on the other side. The low-frequency vibes caressed Steve’s sensitive inner thigh til he shivered, and his cock rose slowly to full-mast. “So your father has this cutting edge technique, but sounds like he’s got no business sense. Forest retreats, meditation, drumming? Yeah, no.” More spit, more massaging, Steve stifled an aroused moan. “So you need an angel investor to come up with a marketing plan, a full scale assault on the commercial gym sector. Make Gold’s Gym your bitch. Now that’s something I can get behind.” Steve was so close to cumming he could barely keep up with his serendipitous surveillance. He forced himself to listen. “So what kind of return on investment are we talking about?” He whistled slowly. “No kidding, huh. Stark, if this works out, I will gladly suck your fucking dick in thanks.” That thick manly hand appeared again to dash more char into the ashtray. “HUH-HUH-HUH.” Steve froze at the sound from the earpiece. The exact cadence of the perp’s evil chuckle. Unmistakeable. “Ohhhhhh shiiiiit,” his voice climbed in pitch. He tried to slam the door on the sudden cumshot with a hard Kegel squeeze but half of it still got through, dripping down like white wax from the tip of his adamant hard-on. Asfarghi stood, and raised a thick dark eyebrow at the splooge. “Gotta go, Stark, duty calls.” He tapped his earpiece. “Damn, faggot, pace yourself.” He tapped a last bit of ash into the tray and then removed it and the phone to the stand. Then Dr. Darius Asfarghi unknotted the ties at the waist of his scrubs and pulled them down, and Steve whimpered as he took in the most stunning, beautiful cock he’d ever seen. It was perfectly shaped, thick and veiny even flaccid, with a head the color and shape of a succulent plum. It and his egg shaped balls were framed by a dense hairy bush, black as the night sky. The surgeon nodded knowingly at Steve’s speechless reaction. “Yeah.” He hefted the weight of the breathtaking member in his hand. “Can you imagine, if my namesake ancestor King Darius the Third had had a cock like this? That faggot Alexander the so-called Great would have turned his ass up in surrender, just like you. Ah, well, what might have been.” The doctor closed his eyes, inhaled, exhaled, and discharged a flood of golden piss onto, and into, Carnitas’ exposed hole. “What the fuck?” Steve bellowed hoarsely. The powerful piss-stream shot up into his gape, and Steve’s humiliation turned to astonished arousal as the blissful warmth of it spread up his abdomen. A tranquil smile came over his face, his first in a week. The surgeon smirked again. “Objection withdrawn?” “I’ll take some to go,” Steve whispered. Asfarghi tucked his regal cock back in his scrubs, and dumped the cigar ashes in Steve piss-soaked hole. “Okay. We’ll let the antiseptics cook while I work on your anesthesia." He stared at Steve’s confused face. “That okay by you?” “Fine, fine,” Steve replied meekly. The surgeon crossed his arms in front of him and peeled off his green scrub top with a smooth upward motion. “Wow!” Steve blurted. Asfarghi’s upper body was bursting with ultra-jacked, densely furry man-muscle. “Yeah I get that a lot. Pick your poison. Arms?…” He raised his arms in a victory pose, exploding his thick hairy forearms with a twist of his wrists, his virile biceps and triceps swelling in perfect tandem over deep bushy pits. “Oh…” Steve moaned, his cock rising once again. “Or abs?…” The doctor slid his hands down his torso to his hips, crunching his abs into a bas-relief sculpture, highlighted by the inky-dark hair in the inch deep crevices. “Ohhhhh…” Steve humped the air, imagining what it would be like to frot that manly masterpiece. “Or pecs?…” “Ohhhh pecs, yes! Pecs!” Steve babbled, insanely aroused. “Huge mounds… so hairy… so hard… smother me… ohhhh.” “Do NOT cum, boy. Pecs it is.” The doctor stepped to the side and pulled a jump rope from under the table. “Watch closely, boy. And do not cum.” The doctor started jumping rope. His prodigious, meaty flexed pecs bounced hypnotically, as powerful bands of muscle tensed from his shoulders to his sternum. “You watching, boy? … Watch Daddy’s hairy chest… Yeah, boy, so powerful… so manly…” “So powerful… so manly…” Steve droned. “Watch those hairy muscle-pecs bounce, boy. You see them bounce. Follow the bounce with your eyes.” “They’re bouncing… they’re bouncing…” “Up and down, up and down, follow the bouncing muscle.” “Muscle bouncing, so hot, you’re so hot, Daddy… so… hot…” “Now look closer, boy, zoom in on Daddy’s bouncing pecs. They’re all around you now. You feel safe with Daddy’s muscle all around you.” “”I… feel safe…” “Daddy will protect you… Daddy would never hurt you…” “Never… hurt… me…” “As long as you see Daddy, you’ll never feel pain… Because Daddy would never hurt you…” “Never… feel… pain… Daddy… never… hurt… me…” “Now you’re going to close your eyes, but you’re still going to see Daddy’s hairy pecs, bouncing just for you, boy.” Steve closed his eyes. “Just… for… me…” Dr Asfarghi stopped skipping, his heart pounding from the cardio, and approached the head of the table. “Now a little aromatherapy and we’re good to go.” He used one finger to scrape thick nectar-like sweat from the muscled wall of his hairy pec. He applied it to Steve’s upper lip as his eyelids fluttered. The surgeon crossed back to his stool and unwrapped the surgical tray. Grasping the needle driver in his right hand, he spread Steve’s damaged hole open with his left. “Here we go. One stitch for good boys…” he said, drawing out the thread from the inner sphincter, before plunging in again. “And one for Daddy.” Tying a knot, he cut the thread and moved to the outer sphincter. “And once again, one stitch for good boys… and one for Daddy.” “One for Daddy?” Steve droned. “Daddy likes an extra stitch. You want to be tight for Daddy, don’t you boy?” “Am I, tight for Daddy?” “Let’s find out.” Dropping the needle driver, Asfarghi lowered his scrubs again. This time his stupendous cock was as hard as surgical steel. He crawled up on top of Steve, enveloping his hypnotized patient in his sweaty, hairy muscles. His strong heartbeat thudded against Steve’s chest. Gently, he probed Steve’s hole with his pre-cum-slicked cock. When he was in all the way, he sighed with satisfaction. “Aw, yeah, boy. Feels so good.” “It feels good, Daddy?” “Oh fuck yeah! Daddy does good work.” “Good work… for a good boy.” “Nice and easy, boy, squeeze Daddy’s cock gently.” Steve squeezed his butthole and smiled with pleasure. He was whole again! “You healed me!” he gasped as he opened his eyes. “Fucking right, boy, Daddy’s a fucking stud. Squeeze a little harder, boy. That’s it. Awwhhhhhggrrr!!” Asfarghi thrust only twice and then came hard, unloading a hefty dose of healing spermy stem cells into Steve’s ass. He collapsed on Steves’s chest, rolled onto one side, then got up from the table. “Damn I’m good.” Steve was coming out of the hypno, but grateful tears streamed out of his eyes. “How can I ever thank you?” he breathed. “Just think about this moment for now on. You don’t need anything up there other than cock. And there’s always cock to be had, isn’t there?” The doctor stopped short as he saw Steve’s torn lip. “Hold on, what’s this?” “Oh, well I just thought that would be a different surgeon.” Dr Asfarghi snatched up some debriding scissors from the tray. “No cocksucking patient of mine is going to leave my care without lips suitable for cocksucking. But I’m going to have to put you right out for this.” He raised his enourmous muscular arm and dropped his sweaty, densely hairy armpit over Steve’s face. “Breath deep, faggot. Count backwards from ten.” “10…9…” Steve’s lungs filled with dreamy man-musk and his brain was doused in stupefying pheromones, erasing all memory of Vinny Crisco, or any other man for that matter, who wasn’t descended from Persian kings. His cock shot another creamy load as he reached number 7. “Nighty-night, boy. You’ll be handsome as ever when you wake up.” *** “Where’d Dr. Ass go?” Steve said as he lurched out of the surgery room. Sharon was sitting at her desk. “Something about an investment opportunity? Had to go see his banker.” Steve’s heart fluttered like a school girl’s. “Did he happen to say anything about me being handsome? I wasn’t sure about what I heard in there.” She looked up from her magazine. “Damn, he did your lip for free? And put veneers on your teeth? Yes my friend, he definitely wants to fuck you again.” Carnitas floated out the door like he was pumped full of helium. He flagged down a cab as his stomach rumbled. “Bad Brad’s Diner. On the double. Police emergency.” He texted Garrett Shaw. Meet you at Camp Steamroller, tomorrow morning. Let the elder Stark know I’m a DBag desperate to see the light. To be continued [And sorry for those anxiously awaiting Camp Steamroller... next chapter, I promise!]

Oh man I can't wait to see him blimp

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.

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.

Once they got to Kurt’s place, the onslaught on Sam’s ass continued. Kurt had the stamina of a rutting bull. He only needed about five minutes between rounds before he was ready to go again. He made the doors and windows rattle with his powerful thrusting. By the end of the night, Sam was exhausted and bruised, but in a state of utter bliss. The sheets on Kurt’s bed were tousled and soaked with sweat. The mattress was askew, and the headboard had broken off the bed frame. When Kurt got up and left the room, Sam fell asleep. He woke with a start to find Kurt looking down on him, dressed in his powerlifting suit and weight belt. “I’m going to lift,” said Kurt. He took a swig from an old fashioned glass milk bottle. He handed Sam another bottle. “I brought you something to drink,” he said. “What is it?” asked Sam. “It’s an herbal protein shake. I get it shipped in from my ranch. My foreman is descended from a long line of Cherokee medicine men, so I’m not sure what’s all in it, but there must be a ton of protein and anti inflammatory herbs, because the stuff works like a charm. Drink it down, it’ll help cure what ails you,” chuckled Kurt. The liquid looked creamy, with a slight green tint. Sam took a sip. “Not bad. Kinda like kefir, only saltier.” Sam drank more. “Finish it up, then get some sleep. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.“ Sam watched Kurt swagger out of the room, his huge glutes rolling as he walked. How the hell did he have the energy to go lift after the night they’d had, Sam wondered. He finished up the thick herbal shake, then laid back and went to sleep. He fell into a deep sleep, melded with dreams of growing bigger and stronger. Swelling with mass. Gaining the strength of Superman. Becoming unstoppable. Godlike. “Whoa,” said Sam as he woke up and realized that four hours had passed. He felt amazing. Energized and rested. And hard. He sat up and remembered that he had a workout session with his trainer in less than an hour, so he got dressed. He’d shower after his workout, he decided, because he was so charged up to lift. Kurt still wasn’t back, so Sam texted him. “Headed out. ttyl.” Kurt answered back that his workout was running long. “I boxed up 6 bottles of the drink if you want them. They’re in the kitchen.” Hell yeah, he wanted them. Sam grabbed the box off the kitchen island, and took off. He rushed home and got his gym bag, then went to the gym. He changed into his workout gear in the locker room, then went to the front desk, where Omar, his trainer, was waiting. “Right on time,” said Omar. “You ready for this?” “More than ready,” said Sam, who was buzzing with adrenaline. Ten minutes into the session, Omar said, “You weren’t kidding about being ready. You sure seem to have your focus back.” “Yep,” said Sam, already feeling the pump building. “Hey, your bruise is gone,” said Omar, nodding at Sam’s arm. And so it was. Sam hadn’t even realized. All the fresh bruising from last night’s rampage were gone, too. Instead, there was a thick biceps vein running down his arm, a vein he’d never had show before. “Damn, bro, you’re looking jacked,” said Omar, as he also noticed the vein. “And we haven’t even done arms yet.” Sam grinned broadly. He couldn’t wait to hit arms, but they still had to get thru his back routine, and he was going to blast his lats and traps like never before. Forty-five minutes later, Sam was raging. He’d done set after set to failure, then had Omar help him rep out forced reps of each exercise. Then Sam stood up and looked in the mirror. He had on an oversized tee, but his shoulders spread out wider than he’d ever seen them. He pulled his tee off over his head and tossed it on a bench. His gym was upscale and a little uppity, so going shirtless was against the policy, but he wasn’t worried about any rule. He was Sam the Weatherman, and he had to see. His traps were rising up like bread loaves. “Fuck yeah,” he said. Then he put his fists on his waist and spread his back out. “Holy shit,” he said. Now he knew why bodybuilders called them ‘wings’. “Dude,” stammered Omar. “What the fuck…that’s the sickest pump I’ve ever seen.” Despite having just been training back, Sam’s pecs were pumped heavy. He turned sideways and flexed into a side chest pose. His chest rose like balloons. Even his nips were pumped. Omar staggered back up against an exercise machine. “Godammm, I’m a good trainer,” he said. Sam laughed. “Aw yeh you are. Now let’s do arms.” They did extra sets and reps for every exercise, then Sam had Omar add more arm exercises that he had never done, like hammer curls, reverse curls, one-arm preacher curls. When they finished, Sam’s arms were throbbing. His forearm veins had veins. When Sam flexed, his arms bunched up into perfect cannon ball shaped mounds. “I knew you had good genetics for this, man, but this is other-world shit. I’ve never seen your body respond like this.” Sam knew that Omar had four kids with three different women, but he was definitely chubbing up to Sam’s muscles. “Lemme take some pictures,” Omar said, and he pulled out his phone and eagerly snapped shots of Sam in different poses. “Dude,” Omar said, “look at your back.” Sam looked at his back pic on the phone and said, “I didn’t know the back had that many muscles.” “Yours does,” said Omar. “Mind if I post some of these on my Instagram account? I’ll get a shit ton of new clients.” “Knock yourself out. But does that mean I get a discount on my sessions?” Omar’s training rates were not cheap. “Dude, I’ll train you for free from now on if you keep this shit up. And I am definitely entering you into that bodybuilding contest I told you about.” Sam laughed. “We’ll see,” he said as he put on his shirt. “But now I’ve got somewhere to go.” They shook hands, and Sam went out to his car. He texted Kurt. “U home?” Kurt answered back yes, and Sam told him he was coming over to show him something. Kurt said great, and said he’d make them something to eat before they went into work. Sam said great, and he took off for Kurt’s. His arms were so freakishly pumped that he could barely steer. He smiled devilishly as he gripped down on the steering wheel and made his rippling bands of veiny forearm muscle clench like steel, and his pecs press together like grinding boulders. Kurt was in for quite a show.

Sam went back to work after three days off. His arm still hurt, but it wasn’t throbbing anymore, and he could move it around enough to do the weather. When the news was over and the studio was shutting down for the night, Sam went to the men’s room and went over to one of the urinals. A few seconds later, Kurt came in and walked over to the urinal next to him. “Welcome back, kiddo,” Kurt said. “I thought I was going to have to start standing in for you soon,” he said, laughing. When he saw the look on Sam’s face, he said, “Hey, I’m just joking with ya.” He gave Sam a punch on the arm. “You’re the weather guy around here, not me.” Sam almost passed out from the pain of Kurt’s tap on his wounded arm. Kurt looked at him over the half barrier between the urinals. “You ok, Sam? You look a little pale.” “No, I’m good,” said Sam. When Kurt unzipped and pulled out his dick to pee, Sam tried his hardest not to look over. But when he heard the force of Kurt’s stream, he took a quick glance. “Geezus,” stuttered Sam. “Yeh, that’s quite a gusher, huh? Been that way ever since I hit puberty. Watch this,” he said. He aimed his piss right onto the urinal puck, and upped the force of his stream. The deodorizing disc shattered like a rice cake being hit by a power washer. “It’s both a blessing and a curse, though,” Kurt said, as he stepped back from the urinal and turned toward Sam. “I mean, look at it.” He let his heavy cock fall out of his hand, and it flopped down between his legs like a big pork tenderloin. “It’s like walking around with luggage all the time. And it keeps getting bigger. When I lift, it swells up, just like I do. It’s over 10 inches soft now. Imagine when it’s riled up.” Kurt lifted his cock and stuffed it back into his pants like he was putting away a pet snake. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” Sam asked. The two men were only inches apart. Kurt’s powerlifter chest was eye level with Sam, who, at six feet two, was not used to be towered over. He was also not used to being outweighed by 120 pounds of pure muscle. He was enjoying both. “There’s definitely a heat wave coming through,” Sam said. Kurt laughed. They stood silently for a full minute, looking each other over, until Sam said, “We should go somewhere.” “How about here,” said Kurt, ushering Sam over to the handicap stall, the only stall that would fit Kurt’s massive frame. He shut the door, and peeled off his shirt. His body odor hit Sam like a wave. “Good god, you’re bigger than ever. You look AI generated,” stammered Sam. “Hit 335 today,” Kurt replied, rolling his huge shoulders. “You sure you’re ready for this?” He popped his pecs. “Yeah, I’m ready,” said Sam, as he stripped down hungrily. “You’re looking like AI yourself, man. Damn, you are fine. But that’s some bruise you got there,” Kurt said as he saw Sam’s arm. “Lemme take a look.” Kurt grabbed Sam by the arm and pulled him closer. “Awww,” grunted Sam. “That hurt?” “Yeah, but don’t stop.” “Yeah? You like pain?” Kurt asked, squeezing Sam’s arm slightly harder. Sam had never thought of himself as a masochist, but he found Kurt’s powerfully painful grip deeply erotic. His knees were starting to buckle, but Kurt held him up by his bruise. “God, yes. Harder,” Sam asked. “Nice,” said Kurt. He squeezed down just a bit more, and Sam grunted. “Good thing you like pain, because you’ve seen what I’ve got in my pants. It’s a pain piston.” Kurt let go of Sam’s arm, and Sam sat down on the toilet seat. His head was spinning and his brow was beaded with sweat. Kurt undid his pants, and pulled them down to his ankles. His huge member was swelling fast, and the big mushroom cap was eye level with Sam’s face. Sam grew hard at the sight of the huge powerlifter’s massive thighs that were snaked with veins. Kurt’s big ball sac was shoved forward by the beefy quad muscles. “Stand up,” Kurt said. Sam stood up, his nose brushing into Kurt’s chest hair. “Now turn around and spread ‘em.” Kurt said like a cop. Sam turned around spread his legs wider. “Now bend over,” said Kurt. Sam bent over and put his hands on the back wall of the stall. He heard a squirting sound, and turned his head to see Kurt pumping liquid out of the sanitizer gel container that was mounted on the wall and lubing himself with it. Then he pumped out the rest of the gel into his big hand, and slathered it into Sam’s ass crack. Kurt’s thick fingers worked the cold gel in deeply. Then he reached further and massaged gel all over Sam’s balls. Kurt leaned into Sam’s ear and said, “I cum harder than I piss.” “Oh my fucking christ,” groaned Sam. “You ready for the adventure ride of your lifetime?” asked the 335 pound beast, as his huge billy club plopped against the small of Sam’s back with a loud smack. Sam let out a grunt in the affirmative. For the next forty minutes, Kurt bronco bred Sam around the stall, denting the walls outward. When they were done, the tile floor was wet and slippery with the sweat dripping off both of them. The room stank of musk and sex. “Let’s go to my place for a shower,” said Kurt. “Then we can go another round.” Sam wasn’t sure he could walk, let alone go another round. But as he watched the massive sportscaster getting dressed, the powerful muscles glistening and flexing, the big club of a dick swinging like a pendulum, he sure as hell wasn’t going to say no.

In the beginning, Sam thought that Kurt’s massive physique would be a turn-off to the viewers. That turned out not to be accurate. The ratings were skyrocketing. Everyone either wanted to be like Kurt, or be with Kurt. Sam wanted to be both, and it was driving him crazy. He could barely think of anything but the brawny sportscaster. At work, away from work, everything made him think about Kurt. Where was he now, what would he be doing, what does his place look like, what does the inside of his car smell like? He was obsessing, to the point that he was having wet dreams about him. Sam hadn’t had wet dreams since he was a teen. Now he had one almost every night. A recurring one where Kurt would wrap his huge bar bending arms around him and squeeze him like a tube of toothpaste while whispering into his ear about his strength and power. Sam would wake up gasping for air, his sheets a sticky mess again. One day at work, while Sam was on air doing the weather forecast, Kurt came striding into the camera shot. His black polo fit him like a scuba suit. He looked like a jacked up, musclebound Navy Seal. “So, Sam,” he said, patting Sam on his shoulder with his beefy hand. Sam almost lurched forward. When Sam looked up at the monitor, he realized how much Kurt dwarfed him in the shot. “I was wondering what the weather’s like for the Bills,” said Kurt, raising his muscular arm and pointing to western New York. “I heard they got 22 inches of snow.” Then he flexed his arm. The peak rose up right next to Sam’s head. “Not as much as this 23 incher, but close.” The two co-anchors, Carol and Gary, chuckled with giddy glee. “Talk about a snow drift!” cracked Gary. “I wouldn’t want to shovel that much snow,” said Carol, “but I’d sure ski down it!” More chuckles, some more nervous than others, especially from the crew, who had never seen the big man flex before. Sam played along, reaching over and slapping Kurt’s boulder of an arm. “You’re right, Carol. I don’t think even Buffalo could handle all that!” “Twenty-three inches, Sammy,” Kurt muttered in an aside to the weatherman. Then the big bruiser squeezed his arm harder, and Sam felt a knot of muscle rise up even higher on the big peak. Sam ran his thumb up the side of the 23” arm. He pictured Kurt bending the exercise bar like a toy. Don’t bone up on live TV, Sam pled to himself. Kurt winked at him, then turned and walked off the set. Sam was fuming inside, but hornier for Kurt than ever, as he watched the big powerlifter’s backside sauntering away. The cocky bastard had the hottest, manliest ass Sam had ever seen. Sam stuttered his way thru the rest of the forecast, then into a commercial break. Sam heard one of the crew members say to another, “That guy looks bigger every time I see him. He’s a fucking beast.” One night later that week, Sam woke up sweating and gasping for breath. He was in a downward dog pose on the bed, face buried into his pillow. He’d been dreaming of having his face deep into Kurt’s big burly squat butt, smelling the deep musk of power ass, while Kurt boasted about how many 1000 pound squats he could do with that power ass. Sam hadn’t messed up his sheets when he awoke, but he kept his face in the pillow and breathed in heartily as he finished himself off. It didn’t take long, because Sam had made his pillowcase out of one of Kurt’s unwashed polo shirts that he had pilfered out of the big sportscaster’s office hamper. The fabric was ripe with Kurt’s masculine scent. Sam, still holding himself in the yoga pose with one arm, shot so hard that he knocked himself off balance and toppled off the bed onto the floor. The next day, the arm Sam had landed on when he fell out of bed was swollen and bruised. He decided to take a couple of days off work. He needed some time to get his act together anyway. He’d been losing weight and his focus. Even his trainer has mentioned it. He needed some time away from Kurt. He promised himself not to watch the news, but at 6:20, he can’t stand it, and he turned on the TV to see the sports. He needed his Kurt fix. And there he was, the big musclehead, bulging out of his polo, interviewing an NFL player. The pro athlete looked like Kurt’s smaller, weaker brother. Sam’s dick twitched, and he started to touch himself, but then stopped. He turned off the TV. His arm hurt too much to go workout, so he got on his treadmill. He set it for 45 minutes, hoping to take his mind off Kurt. He spent the next 45 minutes thinking about Kurt. The next morning, Sam swore off TV for the day. He did, however, check social media, only to find that there was a video going viral title “Powerlifting Sportscaster Deadlifts Tesla”. It can’t be, thought Sam, as he clicked on the video. It started out in the parking lot of a strip mall. A woman’s Tesla had gotten stuck in a big pile of a plowed up snow bank. As she got out of the car and looked at it helplessly, the camera panned over to a gym that’s in the strip mall. A couple of lifters came out of the gym to see what was going on. One of them stood out from the others. He was huge, and wore a red powerlifting suit that made him look even bigger, his massive shoulders jutting out from the straps. A thick weight belt was cinched around his waist. He made his way over to the car. Sam recognized him right away. That walk. That bull neck. That ass. That cockiness. What Sam had never seen before was the size of Kurt’s legs. Two oversized columns of power. As he sauntered over to the woman’s car, his massive, hairy thighs rubbed against each other. Heavy, thick quad muscles bulged out over his knees. The other lifters held back, as Kurt got to the back of the car and squatted down. He grabbed the car under the bumper, then stood up. The icy pile crunched as the car tires rose up. Kurt pulled back, making his thick, broad muscles mound and harden. His glutes showed striations and bulges thru his tight lifting suit. He towed the car out of the frozen drift, and squatted it back to the ground. The woman came over to him and thanked him profusely, shaking his big right hand with both her petite ones. His arm muscles rippled, and the giddy woman ran one hand up to his biceps. Kurt grinned and flexed his arm. The woman almost swooned as his melon-sized arm swelled. When he noticed the person recording them, he grinned even wider, the big ham that he was, and flexed into a most muscular pose. The video zoomed in on him. His huge body filled the screen. Thick veins popped out of his massive delts, arms and neck. A crowd was forming, most of them with their phones out, recording him, as the other lifters hooted and hollered, egging Kurt on. Kurt laughed heartily, and helped the woman into her car. Then he turned his huge back to the phone cams and spread out his lats, spreading them wider and wider, until a loud rip tore down the back of his lifting suit, from his thick traps down to his weight belt, exposing even more of his powerful back muscles. He tore the ripped suit off his torso and turned into the camera. The video frame was filled with Kurt’s massive hairy pecs. His thick chest hair was wet with sweat, and curling into tight, Herculean ringlets. He bounced his pecs up and down for the video closeup. In the background, the crowd was going wild. And then the video ended. Sam watched the video in a daze. He watched it in a loop. He edged as he watched it over and over. He held out as long as he could, but finally those tree trunk legs got him. Those mighty, mighty legs. He had to let it fly in homage.

View of #2 Stair stepper - Can you see how that makes a guy breathe more deeply? LOL

Okay, so I didn't intend for this to take like, nearly three years for me to post a second part. I originally had a very strong idea for where I was going to take this, but then when I put that to the page, it just didn't sit right on from the previous chapter. Hard to explain. I ended up scrapping that chapter, and will probably use that idea next instead. I've been really struggling for some time as a result as to where to even take this. I just haven't had the right mindset to know what to do with it. But, inspiration finally struck last week. I've been writing and subbing it furiously and now I present to you, Chapter 2. Once again, any feedback, feel free to slide into my DMs or reply using a comment. And for those of you saying I'm not really describing the reporter's body, there's a reason for that! It's so you guys can imagine yourselves in the situation. I personally find stories way too restrictive when they immediately describe how "you" are built. It may be something I end up adding, but not now. CHAPTER 2 Minutes pass, I stare at the ceiling, not really doing much. I just stare. I have to digest everything that’s happened. I’ve just had one of, if not the world’s richest royal shoot inside me, and while he did that, he was 500lbs of muscle. In the time it’s taken us to get acquainted and have sex, his family have probably made over another billion dollars. I hear him let out a sigh, his voice is a slightly higher timbre than it was just five minutes ago. I turn my head left to look at him and he’s starting to revert back to a ‘normal’ size. Of course, ‘normal’ size in his instance is still around 270, that’s what he said he goes back to. Even his ‘normal’ is absolutely what I wanted in a partner. The growth, the huge size, that was always supposed to be a fantasy. Until now. I had just been fucked by a corrupt Middle Eastern royal, he had admitted to me he spends billions on himself rather than his own country, siphoning off oil money for his own whims and pleasures. I stare around the room, everything is painted with gold leaf, he is spending billions on himself, a corrupt ruler, a dictator. I’m not afraid to admit I like it. There’s this expectation in society, really, that it’s ‘wrong’ or somehow ‘not right’ to want wealth and power. It’s seen as bad, you’re seen as morally bankrupt, to possibly be attracted to someone of unbelievable wealth and unchecked power. But the truth was before I had even discovered what my muscle fetish really meant, I was jerking off in my teenage bedroom to Arab Sheikhs and Princes. I would look up the net worth of these families, all totally hidden. So then I’d read articles about their lavish lifestyles. One experience which confirmed to me my sexuality, in terms of greed, was reading about a Saudi Sheikh who had travelled to the UK with a spare plane for his cars and bags. The article estimated that the family must make “at least £4bn a month” and I remembered shooting my load everywhere. These guys had everything, the world at their feet. Deep down, I was a left of centre republican (that’s in the European sense, American readers). Maybe the prospect of inherited power and wealth was the reason that turned me on so much. I was disgusted by the thought that someone should have a nation at their beck and call based on the accident of birth. That’s precisely why it turned me on so much. In my life in London, I had actually on two separate occasions had sex with royalty. One Qatari and one Kuwaiti prince. If you float in the right circles for long enough, you meet these people. They’re everywhere, the families are so huge and spread out across the globe. The first time it happened, swallowing the Kuwaiti Prince’s seed hungrily as he grunted, I came hands free. Nothing like what had just happened to me with the Prince of Thazzan, but the feeling of a direct bloodline to all the power and wealth in Kuwait being pumped down my throat just *did* something to me. Thinking about who I had just slept with, the thought occurred to me, before anything else continued. “How should I address you?” I asked. He laughs, a huge, joyous laugh that filled the room and also faded away as it kept bouncing off the gold-plated decorations on the walls. “I am His Royal Highness, Prince Abdul Al-Aziz Al-Hamza, first in line to the throne and next in the line of succession to the island of Thazzan, at which point, my title gets an ‘His Excellency’ before it.” My brain felt funny, I wondered if it was possible to have a kind of mental orgasm after cumming so many times. He moves his not insubstantial body closer to mine and rolled to face me on his side. He kisses my neck softly. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?” He pulled back, smirked, “Call me Abdul”. ************************************************************************ He gets up and heads out the room through a connecting door, and comes back a few seconds later carrying fresh robes and national dress. He slides them on to his body, tensing his arms through the fabric and inspecting them himself. “I love the residual effect of this medication,” he looks at me and smiles, “I’ve taken so much of it at this point it sort of accumulates in my system. I haven’t been below 250lbs in months”. “I’m still trying to get over the size of you at 500lbs,” I say, sitting up and looking at my cum stained trousers. “It is great, isn’t it?” He takes a seat back on the chairs, which are not far from where we had been on the floor. “I think the first time I took it, after it had been tested, and those changes started happening, I couldn’t believe it, I didn’t believe it was possible. “The sad part is, there is just no one else who gets it, and being so well known and from such a small nation, I can’t just take a load of pills and then go on a rampage. I could buy people’s silence, but at the end of the day, a growing Prince is always going to eventually spread rumours. “I joined the muscle growth forum as a way to get out my frustrations, to realise I wasn’t so alone in this idea of getting so huge. I have used one or two prostitutes or even my own staff while this size, but never after taking the medication. “Truth is, one of the prostitutes even asked me at my normal 270lbs why I was so big. I told him I wanted even more, and he said he couldn’t understand why as any bigger would be ‘too much’. He was removed.” I wonder in what sense he means removed, as in, removed from the roster of people who serve royalty in sex, or removed as in, well, buried somewhere in the desert outside the city. “Oh, your trousers,” he exclaims, cutting off my train of thought, “do you need a new shirt as well?” “I don’t think so.” “Let’s just get you a new everything, probably easier.” He leans from the chair to pick up the bundle of my clothes. He lifts the phone on the table between the two chairs, speaks some Arabic into it while reading my clothing size labels. He puts the phone down. “Lucky for you I have suits from before my growth around your size. Do you mind Armani?” I laugh, “well I mean it’s a lot better than the stuff I was wearing.” “No, I meant as in, it’s cheap stuff,” his voice trails off. There’s a slight awkwardness in the air as the differences in our backgrounds are so stark based on one throwaway comment. “I’ve just thought,” he continues, “isn’t this your final day here? What will you do?” I look at the recorder on the floor, the batteries scattered across the room. I look at him, those dark, beautiful brown eyes and perfect face, white teeth. His neck absolutely bulging at the seams of his robes. I look around the room, past him, I think about the situation I’m in. “Honestly,” I pause, letting out a deep breath, “I have no idea. This situation is all just so fast and yet it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.” “You’re still sitting in your own cum and you covered yourself in it. I can see that.” He says, flatly. “I’ve no idea how this *should* even work, what are you even offering? What’s your angle? What is -“ I gesticulate, “this?” He laughs, a broad, rich laugh. It’s beautiful. “For the past five or so years I’ve been taking these pills and then masturbating furiously on my bed as I expand, thinking about how amazing it would be to share this with someone.” My heart races, he continues. “This is fast, I know, but I want this. And I think you want it too.” He looks at my cum soaked body. I nod, not breaking eye contact with him. There’s a quiet knock at the door to the room from the corridor. He barks something in Arabic incredibly aggressively. From my limited understanding it sounds like there’s a swear word in there. He turns back to me. “I want you.” He says. I let it hang there, choking on whatever I would say. My breath quickens. “Before you say anything, my friend, I know, this is a fast situation but let me be perfectly clear, now that I’ve found someone as turned on and into this as me, I do not want to lose you or lose contact with you. There’s a part of me which doesn’t even want to let you out of my sight.” I swallow, hard. “Sorry, that sounded controlling. But you get my drift. We can split our time between here and London. We’ll have to see how the situation plays out with your friends and family, although my immediate reaction is to keep everything private. I will be ruler after all. “If you choose this life, I’ll employ you as an adviser to the Kingdom, but that’s for show. To all intents and purposes, you’re my man. You’ll live a total life of luxury and never have to work again. Have you ever been with Arab royalty before?” “Yes.” “Well you see, things are very different -“ he catches himself, “wait, what?” “I actually have,” I reply, “a Kuwaiti and a Qatari.” His smile broadens immensely. “Oh wow, the British boy does have a type, doesn’t he?” He lets out a large laugh. “Yes,” I quietly admit. “I mean I was about to show off with my lavish lifestyle but it seems you’ve become accustomed to this anyway,” he smiles, “this is most unexpected, well done you.” I beam back at him. “I mean, the Thazzani royals are immensely more wealthy and powerful than others. Everyone references Saudi Arabia and Qatar, but no-one talks about how much deeper our oil reserves go. Same size oil field underneath us, but we’ve got so much more than our neighbours. It helps. “I wake up on a morning, and if I want something I can have it within hours. The other week out of sheer boredom I bought a new Lamborghini, only 110 have been made. It was millions and even at my normal size I struggle to fit behind the wheel, but who cares, right?” I shiver all over, I can’t work out if it’s me being turned on or my body cooling down. “Oh, your clothes,” he says. He gets up and moves over to the door in the corridor, opening it slightly. He doesn’t say anything, takes the clothes, and shuts the door. He approaches me and throws the clothes on to me. “Can I,” I pause, “can I have a shower? Before I get changed? I mean, I am covered”. “Oh goodness, yes, of course, my sincerest apologies.” His British accent, speaking that exact sentence, for the first time almost sounds fake. It’s too polite, too accented. It comes from having the best education money can buy. He picks up the phone and speaks more guttural tones. He replaces the handset. “Okay all staff are in rooms, not corridors, and no one is in my bedroom or my bathroom, let’s go.” We walk to the door, he slowly opens it, looking out. The palace is deserted. I walk alongside him, dirty clothes trying to mop up the cum that’s still dribbling around on my skin, he takes the clean clothes off me. We get into a gold elevator, which quickly applies brakes as he steps in, and are rushed upwards. We cross another hallway to a large set of double doors, he opens them. ************************************************************************ His bedroom is larger than my apartment. I do not live in a small apartment in London, but this single room is four times the size of my place. The bed still dominates this enormous room, being by far the largest bed I have ever seen. The room was, like the rest of the palace, exceptionally modern but with ornate gold elements. A plain, modern chest of drawers had an old fashioned lamp on top. He sees me looking at the furniture. “I always really loved modern,” he says, “but then a few months ago I got bored of modern everything so changed out for some more decorative stuff, but can’t decide if I like this either. Bathroom’s through there,” he points at a large, double width door. “Are all these doors so wide and big because you’re huge when in here?” I ask. “Bingo,” he replies. The bathroom is half the size of the bedroom, still twice the size of my flat. It has a huge corner hot tub, an enormous walk in glass shower, everything you could possibly need to spend hours pampering yourself. I step into the glass shower, set a temperature and strip down. He’s standing in the doorway, even at ‘normal’ size, not far off blocking it entirely. I step into the rainfall of water coming down from the high ceiling. I start working my thumb and fingers close against my body to try and scrape off the cum. There are soaps on a shelf, and I lather up my hands to start trying to remove any remaining residue. In the corner of my eye I see him confidently swagger into the bathroom from the bedroom. He’s taken off his robes and his totally naked body moving around is a sight to see. He’s a big guy, and a huge soft cock flops around as he walks towards the shower. He gets in behind me, also underneath the rainfall of water from the ceiling. Even at this size, he’s taking up a lot of room in this big walk in shower. I step towards him, fairly confident most cum has been removed, I put my arms around his body. I squeeze. I feel the solid mass of his build, he’s an immovable mountain. I look, deep into his eyes and firmly plant a kiss on his lips. We both smile, water trickling off our bodies, in his case, streaming down his immense form. I go in for a deeper kiss, and he burps into my mouth. I step back, disgusted and wretching. I open my mouth and breathe out hard, waiting for water from the shower to rinse out my mouth. I fill my mouth with the water and spit it out, I do it again. I turn around to look at him, frowning. He looks apologetic. “There was a reason I wasn’t initiating the kiss,” he smiles, “my apologies. That always happens just after I take a dose and just before things start happening.” My frown softens. “Did you just…?” “Oh yes. Three,” he flashes me a shark-like grin, “I’ve never taken three, it should double my size.” He’s getting hard from talking about it and I’m already solid. He steps toward me, his huge hand wraps his way around my dick and slowly jerks. “You like this?” He asks, I can see his body slowly starting to swell, I muzzle my head into his hairy chest. I look up at him. “Fuck you’re going to get so big now aren’t you?” I say, restrictions lost, I can talk freely about this with someone, in person. The most I’d ever had were some hot phone calls with guys who wanted to grow. To actually meet a guy, and for it to be happening, was something totally different. He throws his head back, swears loudly in Arabic as I hear cracking from his body. His joints are struggling to contain his quickly accumulating mass. He lets go of my dick and leans against the tiles on the solid wall side of the shower. It’s a good job he didn’t lean against the glass. “It takes my body ages to acclimatise to each increase in dose,” he says, breathlessly, “I’ve been taking two doses for about a year and I’m still adjusting to it.” He presses his whole back against the wall and leans against it, he’s visibly getting really big, his neck is nonexistent as his body keeps swelling larger. His arms are bigger than tree trunks. His legs are forcing each other apart. He lets out a deep cry of pain. “I’m only supposed to take an additional half dose, max, when I want to start training for a higher dose, I should never have taken three in one go,” his joints crack more, he opens his mouth to do deep breathing, his beautiful facial complexion is even looking a tiny bit flushed. He clenches his jaw, swearing repeatedly through teeth in Arabic. “Do you need me to get someone?” I say, my body leaning against his swelling form, his skin is on fire even through the chest hair. “No, no no just let me -“ he lets out a loud animalistic noise, pushes me out the way and convulses forwards. His enormous back is like a platform for the shower water to be collected and run off. I can see the muscles beneath his skin flexing, striating and relaxing. “Grow.” He says in a much, much deeper baritone. He says it towards the floor tiles and it reverberates around the room. He lifts his torso up and stands up straight, struggling to get his balance. I can see from the wincing on his face as he moves around that he is struggling to contain the odd sensations he must be feeling in his new, huge body. His body now looks disgustingly huge, it’s hard to comprehend the sheer enormity of a muscle guy verging on 600lbs. His neck had gone, his shoulders were now the size of my head, his arms, relaxed, are bigger than my waist around. His legs are struggling against each other, forcing his standing position apart. I look at his dick, I could see creamy white liquid oozing from the end. He turns to face me, but his shoulders and arms get caught on the wall tiles and the shower glass. He tries to step back but his slowly swelling form ensures that he’s now wedged. “Oh fuck,” he says in English, a nice courtesy. “You are fucking, grotesque,” I say, “a total fucking monster, a beast, disgustingly huge, and I have never been more turned on.” His dick is now leaking huge sticky drips of cum, getting mixed in with all the water and working its way to the drains. “I have never seen anything like this, even in my deepest fantasies, let me soap you up.” I try, in vain, to get my hands lodged between the immense arms and shoulders and the walls to enable him to push himself free. I soap up my hands more, rubbing them all over his hairy chest, I lather them up again and get to my knees and work on his legs while sucking his dick. I hear him groan in appreciation. “You’re so big,” I say, taking my mouth off his dick. “So, big, this is so good,” he groans, “everything hurts and my body is on fire but fucking look at the size of me. Get off a second, my legs are feeling strong.” I walk back on my knees, watching him place a foot a long way behind the other and seeing the veins and muscles work so hard. His face turns red. He frees himself, he stumbles back onto the tiled wall as a huge bang erupts from the glass wall. Massive cracks have shot across the panes. “Now you’re no longer jammed you look fucking huge,” I say. He steps away from the tiles and beckons me. I move towards him as he lifts me effortlessly by my armpits. It’s like I’m nothing. I do weigh nothing to him. “Wrap your legs,” he growls, calmly. I try and get my legs wrapped around his hips. He forces his huge, royal dick inside me. The footlong that should be breeding women to carry on the royal lineage, but is instead being pushed into me. I scream as he makes me take it to the hilt. “Oh, you’re looser now,” he smiles. I can only let out a yell of affirmation to him. He lowers me back so he’s holding me horizontal, his huge, tree trunk arms supporting my back. I close my eyes and mouth to stop shower water from getting in, and breathe calmly as I start to feel this behemoth of man, larger and stronger than any other human male has ever been, work his way in and out. He holds me still, in mid air, while working his huge, monstrous Arab dick in and out of my hole. “You’re so big,” I yelp. “I am a monster, a freak,” he grunts back at me. “How does it feel to have grown to your biggest?” I ask, my voice rising and falling as he continues slamming into me. He lets out a low groan. “Amazing,” he replies, his pace on my hole getting quicker. “You like it, don’t you, you like being this freak,” I tease. “Yes, yes I fucking love it,” he grunts back, going faster still. “It’s so good to allow yourself to get this big, isn’t it?” I ask. “Bigger is always better,” he replies, changing his pace of fucking. I can feel his dick starting to tense inside me, he’s getting close. “How does it feel to be a huge, monstrous multi billionaire prince, about to be in charge of his country?” I ask. He doesn’t reply, just roars, roars loudly as my hole is flooded. I see every muscle in his body spasm and tense as he shoots his load into me. He lifts me back into his chest. He slides me off him, lifts me up and puts me down, I lean my body into his chest. “To answer your question, it is the world’s best feeling.” He kisses me on the top of my head, my body pressed helplessly against his enormous form. Water raining down on both of us. “And now you’re here, too.”

Hey everyone, sorry again for the delay, but work is crazy. Anyway, enjoy! Parts 1+2+3: https://muscle-growt...stop-parts-1-3/ Parts 4+5: https://muscle-growt...-stop-parts-45/ Parts 6+7: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7460-dont-stop-parts-67/ PART 8: The next morning began as the previous few mornings had for Andrew. He woke up, noticed he had a huge raging erection, and went to the bathroom to take care of it. This morning, he was happily surprised to once again find that he had changed dramatically since the day before. He had a really full beard now. It was luscious, thick and was already about a quarter inch long in most places. He looked like he was well on his way to becoming a lumberjack in just a day or two. However, even under the layers of facial hair he could tell that his face was more angular and cut than before. Continuing down his body, he could see tufts of chest hair poking out of the top of his shirt. Quickly tearing off his shirt he found a veritable forest of chest hair leading to a dense covering of hair on his new eight pack abs. He could tell that his legs were much hairier too now. “I must be the hairiest Asian on campus now,” Andrew though proudly. By the increased hair wasn’t the only change Andrew found. It appeared to him that his workout had paid off handsomely because he was not only ripped, he was enormous. He was at least six feet tall now with huge tree trunks for legs. He could see massive calf muscles pushing out from his lower leg in a perfect diamond cut formation. Above them were huge quads and hamstrings that had gotten so big there was no longer a gap between his legs. His muscles were so big that they made his legs touch each other while standing up normally. Another effect of his massive quads was that his dick and balls were pushed a little bit out from his body making them look even larger than they already were. His cock had to be at least eight or nine inches long (confirmed to be 8.75 inches by Andrew’s handy ruler) and was as hard as steel. His balls meanwhile were each as large as a tangerine and churning with huge loads of semen. He needed to ejaculate soon or else they would swell so much it would start being painful. As much as he wanted to get off on his new physique, there were still areas of his body that he had not explored yet. His abs were like a cobblestone path carved into his stomach, and flexing them and unflexing them made Andrew realize that he could easily stop a gut punch with his abs of iron easily. His pecs looked absolutely swollen with new muscle. The massive fleshy pillows were so big now that his nipples hung straight down. He looked like he could bench press 400lbs easily now. However, despite all of his other fantastic muscles, the greatest was yet to come. His arms looked like they were at least 20 inches around now. Crazy veins snaked their way lazily across the top of his massive peaked biceps while his triceps hung pendulously from the back of his upper arms. His forearms were huge too (probably from jerking off so much). All in all, Andrew looked like a professional bodybuilder, and right then and there he vowed to enter a competition as soon as possible. However, Andrew was becoming a little nervous now. His body was really fucking amazing, but he was worried he was losing sight of what had truly mattered to him. He hadn’t gone to class at all the previous day and instead had spent his time furiously masturbating, working out, and having a marathon of sex with Nicole. The more he thought about his situation though, the more he realized that he liked what he had become, what he was becoming, and what he was about to become. His muscles were so sexy and powerful he felt like he could do whatever he wanted. So, he went back to the bedroom, erection swinging straight out from his body, gently woke Nicole up, and started having the best sex of his life. After his third orgasm in as many minutes, Andrew rolled off of Nicole and noticed that her chap stick had fallen out of her bag. “Hmm, I don’t recognize this brand,” Andrew thought as he put on some of the chap stick on his lips. He noticed a weird tingly feeling on his lips after the application, but he chalked it up to it being an intense mint flavor. He absentmindedly pocketed the chap stick before heading out to class. PART 9: Andrew found that his mouth was getting really dry during class all day. He couldn’t stop staring at all of the hot girls who would have been way far out of his league the previous week, but now were well within reach. He felt tormented by these adulterous thoughts, but the girls were hooked on his new physique. They would blow him little kisses and wink seductively at him, and in response to his rapidly drying mouth he would put on chapstick at least twice every hour. None of this was helping get rid of the erection he had maintained all day since having tantric sex with Nicole that morning. He felt the urge to sneak off the bathroom between every class to masturbate, and even struggled to limit himself to one orgasm. Finally he was done with classes for the day, so he ran to the gym as fast as he could. He could feel his thighs chaffing against each other a little bit as his legs swelled with blood, getting pumped and swollen from just a few short minutes of cardio. As soon as he was done changing in the locker room (where all of the guys were amazed by Andrew’s flaccid dick which was longer than almost all of their dicks hard), he hit the weights. Something immediately felt different to Andrew. As soon as he began his first bench press he could feel an intensity in his entire body that filled him with euphoria. His now 9.5 inch cock instantly hardened and lengthened a bit more filling the front of his gym shorts with an obscene bulge. Every lift he did filled him with euphoria and made him feel like he was about to burst through his own skin. He could feel his muscle growing with each curl, each squat, each press. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore except that it felt fucking incredible and that he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. A sizeable crowd had gathered around him including several of the girls and guys who had been eying his physique all day long. They couldn’t take their eyes off of his bulge and bulging muscles, and a few were becoming noticeably aroused right there in the middle of the weight room. Eventually one of them, a cute black girl sauntered up to Andrew and sat on his lap as he was bench pressing. His dick instantly went into overdrive as he shot load after load into his gym pants. He never stopped lifting during his orgasm, and the crowd gasped as they notices his pecs and arms swell larger and larger with each rep and cum shot. Just as he was about to stop shooting his tank top ripped right off his chest as his confined pecs burst through the fabric. Andrew was an animal. He knew that he loved Nicole, but his sex drive was amped up way too high to ignore all of his waiting admirers. He picked the black girl off of his lap and carried her on his shoulders to the private shower stalls where he fucked her brains out. Andrew was becoming more and more aware of the fact that something weird was happening to his body, but so far all he had surmised was that each time he came he would get bigger, and not just his muscles. He could feel his dick expanding with each orgasm. It wasn’t much each time, but with the way he had been cumming the past few days, he was on his way to having the biggest dick of all time. He didn’t want this growth to ever stop.

Hey, so - decided to actually post a story here. It's a fantasy camp setting ish one, and also my first one, so - hope you like it. *** PART ONE Ben and Adam stayed together in a cabin of Camp Newlake. It was the night before the camp race, the goal – to overcome the large natural obstacle course and reach the buff crystal at the end, which – they say will grant great powers to that who reaches it first. “So, there are three races –right?” Adam asked condescendingly, staring down at Ben from the top bed of their bunk bed. “Yeah. And?” Ben asked, a bit confused. “Well, here’s my plan. We run together tomorrow, against the other teams, and – I know that you’re probably the fastest man in the camp, you get to the crystal and wait. Wait for me, then give it to me when I get there. Then, I will absorb the crystal’s powers and the day after tomorrow – I’ll help you reach the crystal – and since I’ll have the crazy powers, I’ll surely get it no problem. Right? Sounds… good? Or… sane, at least?” Adam smiled down at Ben, expectedly as the other just looked off into the distance, and then – nodded. “Oh, yeah. Sure, I’ll do that. Er, can we go to sleep now?” “Sure Ben, we can go to sleep now, I was just checking if you understood my plan. You agree with it, right?” Adam said, laying down. “Sure, sure.” Ben responded, bending down to fit under Adam’s bed on top. He was a tall one, about six feet tall with pale brown hair and striking eyes. He was a real athlete back home, and it showed, Ben had quite a body on him – lean and tall, not very beefy though. Adam on the other hand was a bit shorter, only about 5’4’’, and was very skinny, the two became friends in the camp and stuck together all the time – although with Adam’s nerdyness and Ben’s Jock-y attitude – the two would probably never be friends back home and yet somehow, it worked out in the camp. Morning came, and the two eighteen year-olds started to prepare for the race. Ben stretched expertly, and Adam just tried to follow what Ben was doing, later they came out to the obstacle course. There were about 10 others there with them. They were all waiting for the race to begin, all looking at the loudspeakers mounted on a nearby pole. “Prepare… for the race.” The ethereal voice came from the speakers, as it always did, it was the camp faculty – they communicated exclusively through the speakers that were everywhere around the camp. It worked, somehow. After a while, the voice returned, everyone came to the big red line… “Ready…” It went on, as they got down. “Set….” They all rose, preparing intensely. “GO!” The voice shouted out the speakers, and all set off into the woods, the natural obstacles immediately became apparent, as they went through the dense vines, roots and branches. They had to crawl and swing and jump to get around. Most had a tough time, including Adam, yet he did surprisingly well, considering his actual physical condition. He saw Ben shoot through the woods, quickly disappearing out of sight. This put a smile on his face, and he went on even faster. The race took a good while, Adam, soaking wet in his own sweat and the various waters of the forest, finally made it to the crystal’s place. A grin spread widely across his face, as he saw Ben there, standing tall and straight, his chest heaving up and down as he took heavy, deep breaths – gazing at the crystal. “Oh… whooh, Ben – good. Good, there you are… now.” Then, he stopped, as he saw Ben’s arm reach out and touch the crystal lightly. Suddenly, a flash emerged from the thing and it disappeared completely, seemingly merging with Ben. “Wh- What…? Wait – WHAT?” Adam shouted, confused as he saw what happened before him. Ben looked down at his hands and feet, as he saw something strange happen to them. His fingers and feet slowly began to elongate and thicken, then – he saw the ground… moving? Yes, it was moving, slightly away from him, he was inching up in height unnaturally, stopping only when he reached about 6’4’’. Adam looked; mouth agape, at his friend’s new body, lean, sexy and tall, his shirt reaching only his belly button, revealing the slim stomach beneath. The cuffs of his pants rode up almost to his knees, and they seemed to cling tightly to his legs. Wait, his shoulders seemed wider too, stretching his shirt across his chest. No – he wasn’t done, slowly Ben brought down his new meaty hands down to his thighs as he felt them stir, his legs grew, this time outward – filling out his pants. Then, he noticed – this was actually happening to the rest of his body as well. He felt his chest rise up slightly, more and more as he looked down, seeing two slabs of meat develop on it – his lean athletic frame was slowly gaining mass, as his pecs formed underneath his shirt, he took it off. As he did, Adam noticed his new long arms thicken and flex large – softball sized biceps and thick forearms, then his gaze was diverted back to the man’s torso. Ben stood there, grinning as he saw his glistening body fill out with massive muscle, a cut six-pack forming underneath his large chest. He turned his back and struck a double bicep pose – as his whole back jumped out in a massive web of muscle. Then, they heard a rip. The seams on his pants gave way to his large curvy thighs; he turned around to face Adam again – looking down at his legs. They were filling the pants completely, his calves formed rips on the sides of the cuffs, they were large and cut like diamonds, jutting out of him like massive bunches of thick, steel-hard meat. “Oohoo…” Ben said, in a new, deeper voice which carried a strange sensual overtone with every sound he produced. “Would you look at that.” He said, smiling wickedly, as he stared at his new manhood. A large endowment strained the front of his pants, as it pushed against them – wishing to get out, free and hanging low. In fact, the whole top part of his pants was strained, not only by the front, but by the round and full cheeks of his newly formed bubble butt. “Oh my GOD! I feel… so… SO… STROOONG! RRGHH!” Ben let out a bestial growl, making the forest tremble, flexing every muscle on his body, making them all grow even bigger as he grinned down at them, then he relaxed them, making them smaller, then flexed them again back into their full strength. “Rrgh! Wait till’ the guys back home see THIS! We’ll see who’s gonna be the team captain NOW! HAHA!” He arched his back, tilted his head back and let out a deviant, full and loud laugh – the loudness fueled by his heaving, wide and massive chest – producing loud sound effortlessly with his new enlarged… everything. “Th--… this… this wasn’t a part of the plan!” Adam said, looking on at the laughing exemplar of physicality in front of him, then, he quickly licked his lips, as his eyes were glued to him, he felt something… something – he hadn’t felt before for Ben in that moment. Something which… surprised him. “Oh my…” He let out, quietly to himself, taken aback a bit by the whole situation. Ben and Adam returned to camp, where everyone had already gathered, once Ben collected the prize – the loudspeakers alerted everyone that the race was over, so everyone headed back to rest – immediately. Ben regaled Adam with the stories of how he just felt “Sooo… GREAT!” and “So fucking STROONG!” as they returned, and Adam, the whole way – hung his head and dejectedly stared down at the ground, half believing how Ben could have done this to him. But, that’s no matter – he… he had a plan. Still. When they returned, everyone saw Ben and suddenly everyone gathered around him. Ben noticed why, immediately, and began to flex for them without saying a word. Then, he heard the ooohs and aaahs come from the group as they looked up at this towering, buff man, smirking down at them. “Pretty neat huh?” He said, looking at his large, flexed bicep. “Wow, yeah – good on you man, there’s no way you’ll lose the race tomorrow.” Ben grunted quietly at himself, not taking his gaze off his bicep, turning his forearm slightly, and making it pop up in various ways. “Heh, yeah – I know.” He said cockily. “But like, there’s no reason not to try, right guys!” He looked down at them, as they stared up at him in half-awe. Adam went back to the cabin, totally defeated by the whole thing, while Ben stayed outside, chatting with everyone, letting them squeeze and touch his new big muscles, talking about how great it all feels, around the campfire at twilight. He returned to the cabin later, and found Adam laying on the top staring off into the ceiling. “Yo dude…” He began, suddenly realizing that he has maybe let down his friend. Adam simply turned towards him for a moment, his eyes widened involuntarily, but he quickly went back to staring at the ceiling. “Er… hey, so… I just… I just remembered what we were talking about er, yesterday. Huh, funny isn’t it – it er,… it kind of slipped my mind you see…” He began, apologetically, yet he couldn’t really help but glance at how his new large body fit more snugly everywhere, in the now smaller cabin. “Yeah. I know. I uh, I saw that. Yeah.” Adam stated, not turning around to face him. “Er, listen man – let me make it up to you.” “And how… are you planning to do that?” Now Adam turned to him, leaning on his elbow on his side, he saw Ben take off his shirt – getting ready for bed. ‘God – he’s built!’ A thought crossed Adam’s mind, and he felt a stir in his crotch. “Oh – I know, I’ll just let you get the crystal tomorrow! Yeah! We’ll be like – like, muscle buddies or something, right!” Ben said with a silly grin, wide-eyely staring at Adam, on whose face quickly formed a grin of his own, as he jumped down and went to hug Ben. ‘Oh my…’ Adam thought, as he hugged the rock hard mass of Ben’s abdomen. His face dug into the very bottom of Ben’s meaty pecs as Ben hugged him back with his huge arms, encompassing half his back in their mass in the process. ‘He’s built like a brick house!’ Adam thought as he felt the ridges of his abs rub against him and – and…. His cock. ‘Oh my God.’ He quickly tried to pull back – but couldn’t, Ben’s arms were locking him tight in a hug, Ben noticed this and let go, so he stood back. ‘He locked me in his grasp without even trying back there. Good God…’ “Really?” Adam snapped out of it – looking up at the new, taller, bigger Ben. “Really.” Ben said – and they both went to sleep – though Adam’s dreams were plagued with images of Ben growing – reliving the scenario of that day – it didn’t bother him as much as he expected. *** Well, that's the first part. Tell me what you think, and if you're actually thinking "I kinda like how this dude writes." Maybe tell me an idea for a story and maybe I'll write it, who knows - because this turned out to be much more fun than I thought.