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It wasn't the stud's strength Justin couldn't believe.... Justin and another guy were eagerly and sloppily kissing and sucking the stud's hard nipples as the stud easily held each of their heads firmly against his swelled up balloon pecs. Neither Justin or the other guy could pull their heads away from the titan pecs if they wanted to (of course they didn't want to anyway): the force of the stud's "gentle" grip on the back of their heads holding their faces against his pecs to worship his nipples with their mouths was stronger than Justin's or the other guy's entire neck and upper body. The stud had to weigh at least 290 pounds, and he was lean. At 6'2", he easily overshadowed both Justin and the other guy, who were both under six feet but were both strong athletes. In fact, compared to most men, Justin was a muscular guy, standing a lean 190 at 5'10". But the stud had at least 100 pounds on Justin, and there was no way Justin's strength could compete, even a little. What Justin couldn't believe about the stud was his age: 18! Justin weighed a mere 115 pounds at that age! After 16 years of disciplined training, Justin managed to add 75 pounds to his frame. The other guy sucking one of the stud's nipples was even bigger than Justin and could have easily been the one to dominate Justin had it just been the two of them; Justin would have been happy to service the other guy if Justin had never seen the stud. But next to the stud the other guy suddenly looked weak, and Justin would never be able to unsee the stud, nor would Justin be able to unsee the other guy submitting to a teenager. It had been easy for the stud to dominate these two older musclemen: the stud hardly had to exert any of his strength and could overpower the bigger guy's entire body with only one arm; in fact, they'd arm-wrestled earlier and even when the other guy pressed both hands and all his weight against the stud's single arm, the stud's arm wouldn't budge. Two prime musclemen degraded to sucking the nipples of a teenager who hadn't even finished high school yet. Who was the real man among the three? Justin hated admitting it, but the stud was more of a man than he would ever be; the stud had even called both older men his "boys" and "toys", and both men accepted the degradation without protest as the stud towered over both of their easily subdued bodies. The stud's pecs rippled with deep striations as he slowly and rhythmically flexed them from the bottom up. He slowly gyrated his pelvis between the subdued older men as each of their hands explored his body while he held their faces firmly against either side of his chest. Finally he'd had enough: he released the men's heads, pulled his torso slightly away from their eager sucking mouths, rapidly alternated bouncing his pecs inches from their faces, then bent forward into a most muscular pose, enrapturing both men who admired the enormity of the boulder shoulders, traps, and biceps that framed the stud's young face that Justin still could not believe existed. Any other kid that age Justin could have easily seduced and dominated himself, but before the stud, he was never into teenagers. The stud grabbed Justin's head with one hand and shoved Justin's face into the opposite armpit as that arm went up into a bicep flex that peaked as big as Justin's head and as hard as steel. As Justin licked the sweaty pit, the stud released the back of his head and posed a full double bicep. The other guy moved behind Justin, sandwiching and squeezing Justin between both bigger guys; as the other guy reached over Justin to place his hands on the peaks of the stud's biceps, Justin's hands came up from below to grope the stud's triceps. With Justin's face still in his pit, the stud puffed his chest, grabbed the other guy's head and pulled the face hard into the valley between the two thick slabs of meat. As both men continued groping his arms, the stud clamped his arm hard over Justin's head, squeezing Justin's face deeper into the armpit, and, whilst pressing the other guy's face ever harder into his chest, the stud vigorously hurled his pecs up and down against the guy's face, grinning maniacally as his billowing chest brought the older muscle dude near ecstasy; the older man moaned as his tongue explored the undulating meaty pec crevice and a heavy heaving pec repeatedly rubbed and rapped his face. Without releasing the other guy's head, the stud released Justin's face from the armpit, and Justin moved behind the stud, reached around, and placed his hands on the stud's still bouncing pecs; Justin groped, squeezed, and massaged the enormous rippling slabs and he rested his cheek on the stud's towering trap. The stud flexed a double bicep again and both worshiping men's hands instinctively went to the young lad's peaks. The stud rotated slightly, wrapped an arm around Justin, and moved him next to the other guy. The stud pulled up a chair, sat down, and directed the two men to sit on one thigh each. Grabbing the backs of both of their heads, the stud pressed both of their faces against his traps and the men kissed and licked the stud's neck from either side. Enjoying the tickles on his neck, the stud bounced his thighs up and down and the men sitting on them truly felt like his boys. The stud wrapped his arms around each of his boys and held them close against himself as they both kissed his neck and caressed his arms and each other. Without missing a beat of his thumping thighs, the stud placed his hands on top of both men's heads and pushed their faces back down to his nipples where, again, the two men sloppily kissed and sucked. The stud stroked both men's hair, bounced them up and down on his oak trunk legs, and jiggled his pecs as they sloppily sucked. Both men knew they now belonged to the stud. They knew his supreme superiority. They knew his power. They knew they were helpless in their desire for him. They knew that with a single arm he could overpower either of them. He would dominate them, control them, own them, degrade them. And they would always submit. They would always be weak. They would always be small. Justin was the stud's principal and the other guy was a school security officer. The stud sat on a chair in a classroom with two men of authority on his lap, bouncing them like children, holding them like dolls. They would both obey the stud unquestioningly because he was their master and they were subordinates. They would always be his boys and toys.

This is just a fun little story idea I started writing to get the creative juices flowing (so to speak). This first part is mostly just a quick setup for the premise. The next couple of parts will have a bit more "action". I hope you enjoy it. ---- It was Monday morning at the office. Simon had arrived a bit late due to squeezing in a few extra sets at the gym. He'd been working out for about 10 months now and the signs were becoming obvious. He worked at a small software company and even a little bit of muscle definition made him stand out from his colleagues. He had a lean, athletic build, but he secretly wanted to get a lot bigger. His coworkers sometimes teased him about it, but he appreciated the validation. In the land of sedentary office workers, the casual bodybuilder is king. On that note, Wanda, from quality engineering, greeted him as he arrived at his desk. "Hey, Simon. Have you met Dave yet? I think you might have some competition." "Huh? Oh, the new guy?" Simon remembered getting an email about some new starter on Friday that he had skimmed briefly. "Yeah, you should go say hi. He seems shy, but maybe you can bond over your gym stuff." She flexed her arm made a "grr" sound. Simon rolled his eyes at Wanda. But he was intrigued. Another lifter? "Sure, I guess I'll introduce myself at lunchtime." The morning was uneventful. Simon worked on fixing a bug from the backlog. It was a pretty tedious problem, time consuming but not particularly novel or interesting. At about 11 o'clock, he got up from the desk to get a cup of coffee from the break room. On the way back, his walk was interrupted when he caught sight of something that made him do a dramatic double take. Sitting behind a desk in a side-office was the largest human he had ever seen. He was by himself and looked uncomfortable in a chair that was too small for him. Hot coffee splashed onto Simon's hand and he yelped, barely managing not to spill it all over the floor. The man looked up at him and they made eye contact. Simon was embarrassed, but also felt a deeper sense of unease, like a fight or flight response. Simon's first thought was that the man's face was handsome. He had a neatly trimmed goatee and messy hair. He was wearing a buttoned shirt and tie, a little bit formal for this office, but that made sense if it was his first day. It was tight on his body. From a distance, it looked good on him. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up. Simon could only see the right side of the man's body, but his eyes were drawn to the exposed skin. The man's forearm was enormous. To the trained eye, it was unmistakably the arm of someone who had been bodybuilding for a long time - probably at the peak of their bodybuilding career. Simon was a bit of a bodybuilding fan-boy and had seen enough physiques on Instagram to recognise someone who was a professional. Most people couldn't get forearms that size without a lot of chemical assistance. It was covered in fine black hair but still had prominent veins, suggesting considerable leanness as well is immense grip strength. He noticed that the outline of the man's shoulder was huge, protruding from his torso in a dramatic curve. Another sign of a steroid user, Simon thought. Although something didn't quite add up. What was a professional bodybuilder doing in accounting? How does an accountant find the time to train and diet, and what was their motivation to develop this body? Simon's gaze returned to the man's eyes. They were hazel coloured. He realised that the man was smiling back at him. "Careful with that coffee, buddy. Also, come say hi. I don't bite." His voice was a deep rumble. He had a pronounced adam's apple that moved dramatically around the man's tree-trunk neck when he spoke. Simon blushed with embarrassment. "Haha, oops... I didn't mean to gawk, sorry." "That's ok, buddy. I get that sometimes." He didn't sound upset. He was smiling, showing his teeth. Simon thought his mouth looked too big. Everything about him was huge. Even his eyebrows seemed impossibly wide and bushy. In a sense, he was perfectly proportioned, in that everything seemed too thick to be real. Embarrassed, Simon averted his eyes and awkwardly returned to his desk. For the next hour, he tried to move on from his encounter with Dave, but he kept coming back to it. The day continued uneventfully. Nobody else was commenting on the new starter, perhaps out of politeness. But Simon couldn't concentrate on the ticket he'd been assigned. Something about his co-worker made his mind go into circles. "God, he must think I'm such a klutz," Simon thought to himself. Putting his computer to sleep, he went out into the breakout area to try to clear his head. Sitting at a counter and staring out the window, his thoughts were interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. Simon turned around on his stool and was face to face with the widest chest he had ever seen. Two enormous orbs of meat stretched the fabric of the man's shirt across the canyon that lay between them. The material obscured the details but couldn't hide their shape, or the dramatic gap from his chest to his abdomen. Simon moved his gaze upwards, making eye contact. Dave was smiling warmly down at him. Even his smile seemed impossibly wide, on his sharp-edged square jawline. "Hey, buddy. You never said 'hi'. The name's Dave. Nice to meet you." His tone was gentle, but it was difficult not to be intimidated by his size. "Oh, sorry. Nice to meet you, too. I'm Simon." Dave nodded and held out his hand. Simon nervously reached out. He swallowed audibly as the man gripped Simon's much smaller, more fragile hand. Dave's meaty paw was hairy and the fingers were sausage-sized. Simon's own hands were calloused from deadlifting, but Dave's were impossibly smooth. Dave assertively shook Simon's arm, and it felt electric. Simon realised he was fully hard. "You know, I moved here for this job and I'd like to make some friends around the office. Do you mind if I get to know you over lunch?" "Huh? Oh... sure." Simon had lost track of time. He hadn't brought lunch with him, instead planning to pick something up near the office. He was about to throw that plan out the window, but he had lost his appetite anyway. Dave plopped a large, greasy paper bag on the counter between them and tore it open. Inside were dozens of chicken wings, more than enough to feed an entire family. Over the next 20 minutes, Dave would methodically devour each and every wing. "Could you tell me a little about yourself?" Dave asked in between wings. "Well, uh, I'm a developer working on our user-facing software..." Simon proceeded to explain his job to Dave, who nodded along as he messily consumed the greasy chicken. "Other than that, is there anything else you want to know? I like to read in my spare time. Also, I work out..." As he said the last words, he felt a knot in his stomach, like he was embarrassed to admit it. "That's cool. I guess I'm not the biggest reader, but I do enjoy fantasy novels from time to time. You ever read 'Game of Thrones'?" "Yes, actually..." This was not the direction Simon had expected the conversation to go. It turns out Dave had been a big fan of the TV series and that's what led him to the books. The two of them discussed some of the finer details of the adaptation. Simon could barely look at Dave without his mouth going dry. It was becoming impossible to concentrate. "Can I ask you something?" He blurted out suddenly. "Huh?" "Do you compete?" Dave looked at him blankly. "What are you talking about?" "Um... I just thought... you look like someone who is passionate about bodybuilding." Dave sounded uncomfortable. "Oh... sorry to disappoint you, buddy. I haven't set foot in a weight room in years. I used to do a lot of sport when I was a kid, but I broke another kid's ribs playing football when I was 14 and I got banned from the team. I haven't touched a weight ever since." Simon laughed nervously. "Is that a joke?" Dave frowned. "Why would I joke about that?" He dropped the remains of a wing onto a plate. "Oh, come on..." Simon looked Dave in the eyes. Dave looked embarrassed and a bit annoyed. Simon averted his eyes immediately and his tone changed. "Sorry, I just mean... you REALLY look like someone who... takes care of themself. That's all." "I'm big-boned, I guess." Simon couldn't believe what he was hearing. There was several seconds of silence while David munched on chicken and Simon formulated his thoughts. "Would you work out with me?" Simon blurted out, and immediately turned a shade of pink. "Huh??" "I mean, I could really use a gym partner. It's kind of boring working out alone, you know?" Simon tried to make eye contact with Dave but found that he couldn't bring himself to do it. His cock throbbed in his trousers as possibilities flashed in his mind. "I think you'd be good at it." Dave masticated a wing while he contemplated this request. After a few seconds, he responded. "I don't think so, buddy. For one thing, I don't know what I'm doing. What if I make an ass of myself in front of everyone? Second of all, it's already a pain in the ass being a big guy. What if I make it worse?" Simon's mind raced. "We can use the office gym," he blurted out. "I have a key. We can meet up after hours. It'll just be the two of us." Summoning up all his courage, he looked Dave in the eye. "I can show you the ropes. We can keep things light. I won't push you too hard. You can see how you feel after the first session." Dave smiled warmly back at Simon. "Well, when you put it that way... maybe one session can't hurt?" "Awesome!" Simon blurted out. "I mean, let's meet up tomorrow at 6:30? Bring a change of clothes and a water bottle?" "Haha, sure thing, buddy... you are a strange little fella. Maybe it will be fun." ---- Next time: Simon takes some measurements, and the two of them work up a sweat.

Here’s something a tad spookier for Halloween. I’ll be diving into some fetishes I haven’t really experimented with but know that I like, such as size theft, which I am not super familiar with. I hope you enjoy exploring it with me. I'm already working on future parts so hopefully I'll have them up within a few days. This is just something to whet your appetites. Again, I'm shit at editing, so grammatical mistakes may abound. *** The Deal (Part 1). Zaid knew this would be a good fuck. The other man was gorgeous. Handsome and powerful, beautiful and strong. His tanned skin looked slightly red in the dim light of his bedroom and Zaid thought that made the situation even more erotic, more passionate and potent. As Zaid held the man close his fingers roamed the his form and they discovered a hard, sculpted body. They had both stripped off their clothing except for undergarments and it was apparent that he kept himself in excellent shape. Not bulky, but built. Broad shoulders tapered down to narrow hips that fit beautifully inside Zaid's palms as they gripped him. Both their moans escaped on the airwaves in low tremors of pleasure and desire. The other man lay under him and accepted everything he had to offer. He was clearly experienced and already looked to be opening himself to Zaid. It had only been two hours ago when Zaid first spotted him in that crowded nightclub. The thumping music still pulsed through him. Only a half hour ago they had exchanged pleasantries before leaving together, both knowing what they wanted to do to each other once they got alone. Zaid's relished the contrast of his dark skin against the gorgeous crimson tinted tan of the stranger's hard body and felt his dick harden fully for the first time of the evening, straining against his briefs. The man's long dark hair splayed out on the satin sheets and Zaid bent down to inhale his prey's scent. "God you smell so fucking good." He whispered into the stranger's ear. "Mmmm...I know. But thank you..." came the reply, sultry and sweet. Zaid's hands ran up along the smooth expanse of the stranger's chest and he could feel every striation of muscle beneath the hot flesh. Zaid was no stranger to fitness and the two men were close in size and development. Fit but not overly muscular and wide but not huge. It was a nice middle ground that Zaid had built for himself, but he was always wanting more. Needing to get stronger and bigger. The constant need fueled him on through in everything that he did. His profession, his hobbies, his passions. All culminated to try and bring himself closer to his goal of becoming a peak display of masculinity. Including this fuck, it would be wonderful cardio. The stranger turned his head again and locked eyes with Zaid. He knew it would be time soon. The red tinted man with hair like curling shadows suddenly removed Zaid's hand from his luscious hips and removed his own boxers, revealing his manhood. It was hard and leaking, close to seven inches and slightly curved upwards at the end, deliciously plump. Zaid stared as the stranger raised one knee up towards his torso and leaned back exposing his puckered hole. "Damn you really do know how to turn a man on." Zaid said as he slipped his fingers underneath his brief's and finally revealed his own cock. He felt himself throbbing at the mere sight of his lover for tonight. Eight inches long and uncircumcised, already dripping from his tip and incredibly sensitive. In the dim light it looked even darker than it usually did, like onyx. Zaid grabbed himself at the base and stroked to the tip, producing a huge amount of precum to slather against his partner's hole, lubing it up before he dove in. The handsome devil chuckled, a deep low sound, and spread himself wider for Zaid's eventual penetration. "I am all yours, beautiful. Make me scream." Zaid was as taught as a bow string, ready to push into this man's warmth and heat. He gripped himself harder and lined up to the beckoning ass and slid inside smoothly and powerfully. It felt like heaven. A delicious warmth spread over his manhood as it disappeared further and further into the handsome mystery man. His face was tense but delighted, enjoying every second of pleasure that was rocking his system. Zaid made sure to take his time and open him deliberately before he took off to the races. Couldn't risk hurting him. At least not yet. "Fuuuuuck..." Zaid whispered and then moaned loudly as he hilted himself fully. The mystery man looked insatiable. His smile wide and gleaming. He started pushing his body upward against Zaid, encouraging him to start fucking, wasting no time to get to his pleasure. His heavy voice was lilting and musical as Zaid took him with slow and tantalizing thrusts, vocalizing his approval for everything the dark skinned god above him was doing to him. The man's dick looked like it was rock solid and hard enough to crack diamond. Zaid loved watching him squirm as he thrust into him hard and deep, tensing and coiling as his pleasure ramped upward. He leaned down and captured the stranger's mouth in a kiss and drank in his lust like wine. Suddenly Zaid began to feel a hot sensation in his gut, burning and strange, as the two men's fucking reached a fever pitch. It spurred him onward and made him feel alive. Electric. Like lightning was racing through him. The man he fucked looked equally energized and in fact looked revitalized. Reborn, almost. His dark eyes and darker hair were intoxicating and Zaid felt himself lost inside them, staring into those portals into the abyss. His moan's were deeper now, full of a bass tone that reverberated throughout his body. "You truly are gorgeous. Strong and hard. Filling me so well. I can't get enough of this. I need more of you." His voice was quiet, but it was all Zaid could hear. The stranger brought legs up around him and beckoned him further like a monster trying to ensnare its prey, his grip tight and deliberate. Zaid groaned and accepted the new position, climbing on top of the gorgeous stud and enveloping him fully, still thrusting heavily. They were so close now he could feel the man's heat radiating out like a furnace and Zaid began to sweat from the contact. The strange feeling returned again, building slowly. A coil that was being wound tighter and tighter in his stomach as he exhausted all his energy fucking the man beneath him. No matter how hard he tried the bastard he was inside of just clenched him tighter, determined to hold out from cumming for as long as possible, never ceasing his own movements backward against Zaid's relentless pounding. Something was different. But nothing was wrong. Zaid was in a frenzy now. He loved every second of this sex. It was purely primal. He fucked without reservations and dug in deep with his fingers into the taut flesh of this dark man's skin, now crimson red as if it was burning. The man moaned his approval as the pain melded into pleasure, just the way he liked it. Time was becoming distorted for Zaid. How long had they been going at it? Thirty minutes? An hour? A day? He wasn't sure, he just knew that he didn't want it to stop. He now ignored all the things wrong with what was happening, he simply didn't care anymore. The stranger's skin didn't just look red, it was red. A deep crimson hue that cast long shadows in the bedroom. His hair was now shadow. Deep black strands swirled about his body as it was ravaged by Zaid's mammoth cock. Even his eyes changing to a dark purple huge didn't perturb Zaid, it only made him harder inside the man. His otherworldly beauty drove him to even greater heights. When the horns sprouted from his head and the tail wrapped around his calf it came as no surprise. There was no fear or terror. Only love and acceptance. Zaid felt so safe inside the monster's body. He pumped in and out of the infernal creature and reveled in the ecstasy their fucking. He knew what he saw was impossible, but he didn't care. He simply wanted to fill this man with his seed over and over again until he screamed and cried out for him to stop. He just wasn't sure if that was possible. "I see your need." The demon purred, his words coming in the form of song, sweet music that drew Zaid deeper into his erotic trance. "Ever since you were young, you’ve always been small. Weak. Pathetic. You've spent your entire adult life working to fix that but you always find yourself lacking, don't you? Never strong enough. Always one step behind your dreams." He paused and stroked Zaid's face, dragging a claw across his cheek. "Not big enough to impress your friends. Not strong enough to conqueror your rivals. Not beautiful enough to capture your lovers hearts. And certainly not big enough to fulfill your dreams." The devil smiled wide at Zaid, revealing sharp teeth. Zaid moaned deeply and bent forward to kiss the monstrous maw. He knew that mouth was dangerous but he was too far gone to care. The demon’s lips were plump and beautiful, they needed to be smothered with his. "I see your dreams and lust. I know how badly you crave power and strength. I feel the desire radiating from your loins like a beacon of fire. To be strong and beautiful. Defined like a marble statue and as hard as one too. Powerful, masculine, dominant. You crave this. Yearn for it. Dream of it nightly." Zaid simply sped up his strokes in affirmation, unable to use his own words. The demon's face grew rapturous and he bit his lips, looking directly into Zaid's eyes and smiling wide. "I can make your dreams come true. Bring every fantasy you've ever had to life right before your eyes. Let you become stronger and bigger than you've ever dared to hope you could be. All I require is..." He licked his lips. "My soul..." Zaid grunted out between hard thrusts. "YEEESSS!" The demon came hard all over his chiseled body. White spunk splattered on red skin. Black claws dug into Zaid's flesh. His eyes blazed bright and his balls contracted with each volley. His seed shot wild like a spout, arching high before landing on his abs and chest. He looked divine in his rapture, a true figure of lust and beauty. Zaid knew what this would mean. Losing himself to an unholy incubus. Becoming a thrall for this sex demon. An eternity of sin and pleasure awaited him should he say yes. His dreams and desires turned reality. His true need now front and center stage. Everything he craved within reach. And it was all he ever wanted. "YES!" Zaid yelled back as the first torrent of cum fired out of his dick and filled his demon lover. The demon roared in joyous exultation and bucked against Zaid wildly, accepting and wanting every drop that filled him. His heat was intense now, scalding and hot enough to burn. Zaid had never cum like this before in his life. His orgasm seemed boundless and his cum spilled everywhere, drenching them both and overflowing out of the incubus. But it kept going. Unyeilding. Never ending joy and passion as their deal was struck in fire and lust. The darkness enveloped the pair and smothered them into nothing. Zaid awoke gently. He felt the moonlight drape over him like a satin robe and luxuriated under its cool touch. How long had it been? For all he knew it could be a new millennia. Slowly and deliberately he opened his eyes to look upon a world that seemed familiar but now fiendishly unknown. He was in his bedroom, relaxed and serene upon a mattress. He felt fantastic, healthy and refreshed as he rose to take stock of his surroundings. Nothing seemed to have changed as far as he could tell. The same posters on the wall, same bed sheets, same computer humming in the background. It all felt painfully similar and yet, very different. This was his world, yes, but now he was changed forever. A smile crept up over his face and he stretched luxuriously in bed, ready for whatever might come next. Zaid was full of excitement for the future. What would it hold? Power, sex, pleasure? Or damnation, horror and pain? He wasn't sure he could distinguish between them any more. The faintest scent of sulfur tinghed his nose and his attention turned to his desk. A slight wisp of smoke drifted off of an envelope that was sitting atop his keyboard. It looked intricate and ornate, a lavish message left by someone who wanted it to be seen. Zaid smiled and stood up from the bed and walked over to inspect it. Melted red wax covered the black envelope's lip and was marked with a seal he did not know. The wax was still warm and pliable to his touch, just barely starting to solidify. He flipped the paper in his hands and saw a message scrawled in intricate cursive with gorgeous white ink that gleamed in the dim light of his room. "To Zaid. Our Terms." His heart beat faster with anticipation and he pulled apart the seal with delicacy, sure to preserve this treasure for himself. Inside was a long folded piece of brown parchment that looked both worn and crisp with use. Careful not to tear it, Zaid opened it and felt a flood of emotions as he gazed upon the detailed penmanship. He knew who had written this. It could only be the stranger he met tonight, the handsome enigma that had changed everything in an instant of mindblowing sex. "Zaid. Your soul is strong and nourishing. It was simply divine, and I have never tasted anything like it in all my centuries on earth and below. You are a special individual indeed, both inside and out, and your gift to me has been matched in kind. Herein I will detail the rules of engagement but not the intricate details of your new gifts. I've found that surprise is one of life's truest emotions and to take that away from you would be simply criminal. So, let us begin, shall we? To start off with. YOU ARE MINE. There is no escaping this. I've dined upon your soul and bound you to me forever. That being said you do have free will. I enjoy it when my thralls indulge themselves unrestrained and live their lives to the fullest, but always remember you belong to me. I could pull your strings any time I wish to bring you back to me, so do not stray. YOUR PURPOSE. This is simple. We incubi are vessels of lust and sex, seeking always to fulfill our needs. As my thrall you must assist me in capturing souls for my collection, lest you fade into nothing. The capturing of the soul at the height of pleasure is paramount, as there is no better taste in the universe than a mortal at the peak of climax. While that may sound complex, I assure you it will be as familiar to you as breathing. This is all I ask of you. To help me treasure that feeling for eternity. No more, no less. YOUR GIFTS. I won't spoil them all, so don't ask. I'll simply point you in the right direction. I know your needs and wants. I've seen your desire for strength. Felt it with my own body as you pounded away inside of me. I want what you want. To make you bigger and stronger. More powerful and intimidating. A true stallion stud. An alpha worth of worship. Fear not. The path to this change will reveal itself to you soon. Until then, explore your newfound sexuality and indulge in carnal delights whenever the urge strikes you. Know that I will make it worth your wild. YOUR LIMITS. I have given you 100 years of perfect youth. After that it will be time for you to return to me, where we can feast upon a collection of souls for eternity. Things will be different. Family and friends will not recognize you now that you have become mine. They were never important to you anyways. You will make new ones. New friends, new family. Perhaps even new loves. I daresay I would enjoy meeting someone who could capture your heart. It would be simply delicious. YOUR RESOURCES. Limitless. The banality of human necessities like money are simply unimportant to creatures like myself or those that serve me, which makes them all the easier to acquire. Check your accounts. I trust they will be sufficient. Ensure your passports are up to date as well. You'll find no place on this earth that you cannot experience. Travel is in your future and it will not be confined to this earthly sphere. MY GUIDANCE. When the need arises, I will be there. To protect, to safeguard, to revel, to delight. Remember that I am always with you. I can see you in this moment reading this letter. My power fills you, makes you whole, drives you to sate your lust. Your pleasures are my own and when you indulge in the flesh, I too will take my fill. FOREVER YOURS, AS YOU ARE MINE. --- Master." Zaid sat in stunned silence as he finished reading the missive. There was no mistaking it. Everything was real. This was no longer a fantasy; it was his new reality. His old life was gone and, in its place, something better had arisen. More beautiful and horrible than he could have ever imagined. For the briefest moment, fear swept through him from this head to his toes. He squashed it with a thought. There was only the present now. Only the here and the now mattered, everything else was just dust, gone and lost forever. The only thing to do now was figure out where to start.

Chapter 40 Ollie wandered through the city streets, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The sun had long since set, casting deep shadows across the urban landscape. Without realizing it, he found himself turning down a narrow alley, the sounds of the main thoroughfare fading behind him. The alley was a claustrophobic canyon of brick and concrete, dumpsters and fire escapes creating a maze of dark corners. Ollie's footsteps echoed off the walls, a lonely rhythm in the oppressive silence. Suddenly, a deep voice cut through the night. "Well, well. What do we have here?" Ollie froze, his heart leaping into his throat. From the shadows emerged three men, their muscular forms blocking the alley's exit. The first was a massive bear of a man, his hairy chest and belly spilling over the waistband of his tight jeans. Tribal tattoos snaked up his arms, disappearing under a sleeveless leather vest. His face was rough, scarred, with a thick beard and glinting eyes. To his left stood a leaner man, every muscle in his torso clearly defined. A dragon tattoo writhed across his chest and abs, its tail disappearing into low-slung pants. Multiple piercings adorned his face - eyebrow, nose, lips - catching what little light filtered into the alley. The third man was a perfect blend of the other two - massively muscular but with clear definition. His entire upper body was a canvas of colorful tattoos, telling stories of violence and power. A large bull ring hung from his septum, and the outline of more piercings was visible through his tight shirt. "Looks like a lost little lamb," the bear growled, his voice a rumble that Ollie felt in his chest. The lean one licked his lips, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Maybe he needs some... guidance." Ollie backed away, his back hitting the cold brick wall. "I... I'm not looking for trouble," he stammered. The third man, clearly the leader, stepped forward. "Oh, but trouble's found you, pretty boy. And we're feeling... hospitable." With a fluid motion, the leader stripped off his shirt, revealing the full glory of his tattooed torso. Intricate designs flowed over bulging muscles, creating a hypnotic display of art and power. "Like what you see?" he smirked, flexing his pecs. The movement made his nipple rings catch the light, drawing Ollie's terrified gaze. The bear followed suit, his massive gut and hairy chest now on full display. Scars crisscrossed his torso, telling tales of past violence. "I've got something special for you, boy," he growled, grabbing his crotch suggestively. Not to be outdone, the lean one shed his clothes as well. His lithe body was a work of art, every muscle perfectly defined. A Jacob's ladder of piercings ran the length of his hardening cock, visible through his tight underwear. "We're gonna show you a real good time," the lean one purred, running a hand down his abs. "Gonna make you forget all about whatever's got you looking so sad." Ollie's mind raced, panic rising in his throat. These men were nothing like Brock - their muscles spoke of violence rather than protection, their tattoos and piercings a testament to pain rather than beauty. The leader stepped closer, close enough for Ollie to smell the mixture of sweat and cologne on his skin. "Why don't you touch?" he said, grabbing Ollie's hand and placing it on his chest. "Feel what a real man is like." Ollie's hand trembled against the hard muscle, feeling the man's heartbeat beneath the inked skin. He wanted to pull away, to run, but fear kept him frozen in place. The bear moved in from the other side, his massive bulk hemming Ollie in. "I bet you've never had a real bear before," he growled, his beard scratching Ollie's cheek as he leaned in close. "Gonna show you what you've been missing." The lean one dropped to his knees, hands reaching for Ollie's belt. "And I've got a special treat for you," he said, licking his lips. "Gonna make you feel things you never knew were possible." Ollie's breath came in short gasps, his body trembling with fear. These men were going to hurt him, use him, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. They were too strong, too many. As the leader's hand moved to Ollie's throat, as the bear's rough hands groped at his body, as the lean one began to undo his pants, a name bubbled up from the depths of Ollie's terror-stricken mind. "BROCK!" Ollie screamed, his voice echoing off the alley walls. "BROCK, HELP ME!" The thugs laughed, their voices a chorus of cruel amusement. "Scream all you want, pretty boy," the leader sneered. "Ain't no one coming to save you." But Ollie couldn't stop. As hands pawed at his clothes, as rough lips pressed against his skin, he continued to cry out, praying that somehow, someway, Brock would hear him. Would come to save him one more time. "BROCK! PLEASE! I NEED YOU!"

Chapter 39 Ollie stepped off the bus, his feet carrying him down familiar streets on autopilot. Before he knew it, he found himself standing in front of his childhood home. The sight of the house, unchanged since the day he'd left with Brock, brought a fresh wave of grief crashing over him. With a trembling hand, Ollie unlocked the door and stepped inside. The air was stale, the rooms filled with a heavy silence that seemed to press in on him from all sides. As he walked through the house, memories assaulted him at every turn. There, in the living room, was the couch where he'd spent countless hours curled up with his parents, watching movies and laughing at inside jokes. In the kitchen, he could almost smell his mother's cooking, could almost hear his father's deep voice as he recounted his day at work. Ollie's vision blurred with tears as the realization hit him anew: his parents were gone, taken from him in a cruel twist of fate on the very day the meteor had changed his life forever. The day Brock had saved him, had taken him in and loved him. But now, even that comfort was tainted. The man who had been his rock, his savior, had become something else entirely. Something terrifying and unpredictable. As Ollie collapsed onto his old bed, his phone buzzed with incoming messages and calls. Brock's name flashed on the screen, each notification a pleading attempt to reach out, to explain. "Mom, Dad," he whispered into the empty room, "I miss you so much. I wish you were here. You'd know what to do." He closed his eyes, memories washing over him like waves. "Brock saved me that day," Ollie thought, his heart clenching. "When the meteor hit, when I lost everything... he was there. He pulled me from the wreckage, held me as I cried." Ollie's hand unconsciously moved to his lower back, remembering the paralyzing pain that had once been there. "He healed me. Gave me the ability to walk again when the doctors said it was impossible. Brock gave me hope, a reason to keep going when I wanted to give up." Tears slid down Ollie's cheeks as he recalled the tender moments, the love that had blossomed between them. "But now... God, he's changed so much. He's too big, too strong. His muscles... they're not human anymore. And his penis..." Ollie shuddered, remembering the pain and fear he'd felt when Brock couldn't control his size. "He's becoming something else, something I don't recognize. The man who saved me, who loved me so gently... where is he now? Lost in this mountain of muscle and power?" Ollie rolled onto his side, hugging a pillow to his chest. "I love him. I do. But I'm so scared. What if he loses control completely? What if he hurts me without meaning to? Or worse... what if he becomes like Marcus, taking what he wants without care for others?" The thought sent a chill down Ollie's spine. He curled into a tighter ball, wishing he could disappear into the safety of his childhood memories. "Mom, Dad... I need you. I need your guidance. How do I love someone I'm afraid of?" Miles away, Brock paced the floor of his empty house, his massive frame filled with restless energy. He'd tried everything to contact Ollie – calls, texts, emails – but each attempt was met with silence. The realization that Ollie had blocked him was like a knife to the heart, a pain more acute than any physical wound. Desperate to find his love, to make things right, Brock hatched a plan. He shaved his beard, leaving his chiseled jaw smooth and bare. A cap pulled low over his eyes, dark sunglasses obscuring his face, he donned the largest sweater and pants he could find, hoping to conceal his godlike physique. But even with his disguise, Brock couldn't help but draw attention as he roamed the city streets. People stared, their gazes lingering on his massive form. Though they didn't seem to connect him to the masked figure from the news, there was a palpable sense of awe and curiosity in their whispers. "Did you see the size of him? He must be a bodybuilder or something." "I bet he's ripped under those clothes. No one's that big naturally." "And that jawline... he's got to be a model, right? Even with the glasses, you can tell he's gorgeous." Brock ignored the comments, his enhanced senses scanning the crowds for any sign of Ollie. He checked all their usual haunts – the coffee shop where they'd had their first date, the park where they'd spent lazy Sundays picnicking, the library where Ollie loved to lose himself in books. But there was no trace of his love, no hint of where he might have gone. As the hours ticked by and the sun began to set, Brock's desperation grew. He couldn't bear the thought of Ollie out there alone, hurting and afraid. But he also knew that he was the cause of that pain, that fear. The weight of his actions, of his reckless pursuit of power and revenge, sat heavy on his broad shoulders. Defeated, Brock returned home, the house feeling even more cavernous and empty than before. As he lay in their bed, Ollie's scent still clinging to the pillows, Brock let the tears flow freely. He had never felt so helpless, so utterly lost. "I've fucked up," he growled to himself, running a hand through his hair. "I've fucked up so badly." He stopped in front of a mirror, barely recognizing the behemoth staring back at him. "Look at you," he snarled at his reflection. "You wanted power? You got it. And what good is it now? You've lost the only thing that ever mattered." Brock's fist clenched, veins popping along his forearm. "I saved him. I loved him. I gave him everything I had, everything I was. And now... now I'm too much. Too big, too strong, too... monstrous." He thought back to the fear in Ollie's eyes, the way he'd recoiled from Brock's touch. "I swore I'd never hurt him. But I have. Not with these muscles, not with this cock... but with my actions. My choices." Brock's shoulders slumped, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. "I became the very thing I hated. I used my power to hurt, to take revenge. And for what? To prove I was stronger? To feed this... this hunger for more?" He looked down at his massive hands, capable of such gentleness and such destruction. "Ollie gave me purpose. He saw the man beneath the muscle, loved me for who I was inside. And I threw it all away for what? More size? More strength?" Brock's voice broke, a sob escaping his chest. "I'd give it all up. Every ounce of muscle, every inch... I'd go back to being normal if it meant having Ollie back. If it meant seeing love in his eyes instead of fear." He slumped to the floor, his back against the wall, head in his hands. "I don't know how to fix this. I don't know if I can. But I have to try. For Ollie. For us. For the man I used to be... the man he fell in love with."

Again thanks for your patience. I am trying to make you wait less, so here is the next half chapter, in a few days I will finish and send the remaining half. Enjoy! Chapter 29 - Paul’s test (part one of two) As Jack walked back to the quarters, he was strutting his beefy legs and letting his enormous dick slowly get down, slapping onto his expansive thighs, the noise of his large bare feet slapping on the ground. He entered one of the showers near the gym and washed off blood and the rest. Once cleaned up, he admired his body in the mirrors as he was drying up with a large towel. A guy walked in, still sweaty from the workout, and gasped at the sight. “Fuck man, that’s a jacked fucking body, well done, we all want to get as big and as strong as you here, you are our inspiration” Jack smirked and high fived the guy, letting him feel his large paw, then grabbed the guy’s shoulder and neck in a friendly gesture, thanking him, but at the same time thinking of that fit, toned neck and shoulder, fitting comfortably in his powerful, rugged, incredibly strong paw, and how he could have instantly crushed it commanding his enormous and dense forearm muscles, with the veins pulsating already. Snapping out of that thought, and leaving the guy to begin a serious boner, as usual, he slipped on a pair of gym shorts from the spare pile and walked to Mandy’s office. Mandy was there chatting with another agent, who procured a briefcase with important documents. “Mandy, it’s all in here, but the guy I killed didn’t tell me how to open it and it is indestructible, we already tried everything and we cannot open it, it’s made of a special nylon and cement mix” Jack walked in, wearing only his shorts, which made not an ounce of effort hiding his still enormous schlong. The rest of his body was absolutely menacingly ripped and veiny like a bodybuilder ready to be shaved and tanned for the stage. “Give me that briefcase, let’s see if these guns are for show or else” Jack made a double bicep pose that left the Agent with his mouth open and his dick engorging quickly, and without even managing to mutter a word, handed the briefcase to him. Jack examined the object with his calloused, grotesque and muscled hands, then firmly placed the paws on each side and gripped them hard. A creaking noise was already indicating the level of inhuman power applied, then he inhaled bringing it close to him, against his pecs, then started using them. The pecs swelled up and striations formed, while the arms toughened and swelled in numerous fibers and veins. The creaking noise increased, with the Agent staring in disbelief. Another squeeze, another grunt, and the briefcase started changing shape, it was succumbing to the powerful grip, and warping, until a loud crack indicated that something broke, it was the hinge. Then increasing the muscle size and appearance even more, Jack delivered a final crush that completely unhinged the briefcase and opened it up completely. As his pecs boomed when the load disappeared, Jack quietly returned the open case to the duo. Looking up to the agent, he was a very well built man of Turkish descent, with a massive body, JAck noticed that his pants showed a massive boner, and a wet spot at its tip. Mandy noticed that too and commented “Well let me say what you wouldn’t say, you saw Jack’s powerful muscles in action, and your cock got so hard so fast that your precum drenched your pants, and if he dared to show you even more of his muscles right now, you could easily cum, and you cannot stop looking.” The agent was sweating profusely and unable to talk, looking at Mandy and then back to Jack, staring at his impossibly wide shoulders, his thick neck, his enormous arms, and his stacked abs…and his huge legs. Jack smirked and threw an epic most muscular getting real close to the agent, his bulging hard pecs less than an inch to the agent’s nose. The agent emitted a guttural noise while gripping the chair with his thick turkish hands, and his massive rod in his pants shot out a massive load, like a tiger finally free to escape from his cage, with one rope going right through the pants fabric and landing on Jack;s massive thigh; that only increased the tension and prolonged the agent orgasm. Jack and Mandy chuckled. “Mandy your agent is a sweet boy, look he sprayed me, it must be love.” Mandy was aroused and amused. “Come here you showoff, once the agent is out showering and sorting himself out we can talk business” The agent stood up trembling, not knowing where to look, and left the scene with his dick still hard. Jack planted his thick manly foot on the chair right next to Mandy, and stared at her. “So tell me what’s up now” Mandy gently grabbed Jack’s enormous calf with her hand and attentively inspected the massive muscles and veiny hairy skin, admiring the huge foot and the power within. Without interrupting the visual inspection, she briefed on: “My sexy strong friend, it is about time to use one of the last fragments on you. The subjects are ready, Mo, Alex and Paul are a perfect combination and their DNA makeup is compatible. Milos needs to be treated pronto. “Mandy I am not sure about Paul, he has come a long way and he is now a super agent, but we cannot have a sweetie boy here, we need tough men, I haven’t seen that” “That’s about to change. We sent him on a mission today, and this will show us what he is made of. We have cameras and we will follow his moves” Mandy switched on the flat panel on the wall and it showed Paul, driving in a car. They both sat down, and watched, Mandy still hugging the big calf and moving on to the thick thigh, Jack’s cock starting to come alive again. In a suburban area, Paul was driving to his destination, wearing some skimpy shorts, flip flops and a bodybuilding tank top which exposed not only his huge torso and pecs but also his juicy nipples, and he was proud of that, he was changing and becoming a lot more confident. Jack commented “Fuck look at the man, he’s looking fierce, not bad, let’s see” The mission, get into the apartment where this thug lives and eliminate him. Paul parked the car near the location, got out of the car, and left the flip flops inside. “Fuck it, I am going barefoot, it just feels right, after all we are in Australia” TO BE CONTINUED

Chapter 50 - Reflections on the Journey After Jacob won the bodybuilding competition, his life changed almost instantly. The once shy, anxious boy who had struggled with insecurity and self-doubt suddenly found himself in the spotlight, going viral online as his photos were shared across social media. The roar of the crowd and the flood of attention were unlike anything he had ever experienced, filling him with a newfound confidence. As he looked at himself in the mirror of the restroom at the dance club, now a champion bodybuilder, he could hardly recognize the timid college student he used to be. This confidence coursed through his veins, awakening a bold, aggressive energy that matched his rippling muscular physique. Austin had helped him see and claim everything about himself, his body felt electric. It also stoked a rising, insatiable sex drive that surprised even him. Like a tidal wave, it hit him as his balls ached like he had been edging for days. His huge cock elongated down his right quad throbbing and stretching the denim as it grew quickly to its full length and heft. Overwhelmed with desire, Jacob marched to the dance floor and grabbed Austin’s hand and, with a fiery determination, led him out of the bustling celebration party of the tribe and contest goers. Austin felt his breath catch as Jacob grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd. He had watched Jacob transform over the past year from a shy, reserved young man into a confident powerhouse, but tonight was different. Tonight, he could feel a magnetic energy radiating off Jacob, a new assertiveness that both thrilled and surprised him. As they pushed past the other partygoers, Austin couldn't help but admire Jacob’s powerful, commanding presence. The way Jacob's muscles rippled under his tight shirt, the determined set of his jaw, and the fire in his gray eyes sent a surge of anticipation through Austin, making his heart pound faster. As they reached the elevator, Austin could barely keep up with Jacob’s hurried pace. He had never seen this side of Jacob before, and it was intoxicating. The way Jacob took charge, the way he was now so sure of himself, was something Austin had always hoped to see. Austin had always been drawn to Jacob’s quiet strength, but seeing him now, exuding such confidence and passion left him breathless with excitement. The moment the elevator doors closed, Jacob turned, and without a word, pressed Austin against the wall, capturing his lips in a fierce, demanding kiss. Austin melted into Jacob’s embrace, his head spinning as Jacob’s hands roamed possessively over his body. The intensity of Jacob’s kiss was unlike anything Austin had felt before—raw, powerful, and filled with a hunger that left no room for doubt. By the time the elevator doors slid open to their penthouse suite, Jacob’s body was vibrating with raw energy, his desire a coiled force barely contained beneath his skin. The tension between them had been simmering all day, but now, in the privacy of their luxurious suite, there was no need for restraint. The second they stepped through the door, Jacob’s massive arm wrapped around Austin’s waist, effortlessly scooping him up like he weighed nothing. The warmth and scent of Jacob’s skin enveloped him, and Austin’s heart raced as he was lifted into the air, their lips brushing in a teasing, fleeting kiss. Jacob’s eyes burned with a hunger that sent shivers down Austin’s spine, and before Austin could catch his breath, Jacob carried him across the threshold with a casual strength that Austin had come to adore—no, worship. He felt the thick, solid muscles of Jacob’s chest pressing into him as they moved, the Gorilla’s heartbeat pounding like a war drum. Austin’s arms instinctively wrapped around Jacob’s neck, his lips brushing Jacob’s jawline, tasting the salt of his sweat as Jacob carried him deeper into the suite, their bodies locked together in a heat that had been building for hours. The penthouse itself was forgotten, its luxury just a blur in the corners of Austin’s vision. All he could focus on was the anticipation, the raw need radiating from Jacob as he walked with purpose, his footsteps heavy on the marble floors. The moment they entered the bedroom, Jacob didn’t waste a second. He tossed Austin onto the bed with a force that made the air leave Austin’s lungs in a shocked gasp. The mattress bounced beneath him as he landed, splayed out, vulnerable, and aching for what was about to come. Jacob stood over him, looming, chest heaving, his broad, sweat-slicked torso glistening under the dim lights of the room. His sheer size, muscles swollen from the day’s contest, and veins bulging down his thick forearms made Austin’s breath hitch. His eyes were wild, dark with unrestrained lust, and his massive hands reached for the waistband of his pants, pulling them off in one smooth motion. Austin’s pulse quickened at the sight of Jacob’s body—towering, hard, perfect. His cock was already fully erect, thick as a forearm, veins pulsing along its length. It throbbed with every beat of Jacob’s heart as if demanding what was about to happen next. Jacob’s gaze locked onto Austin, and in that moment, any hint of tenderness was swallowed by pure primal need. He climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and before Austin could react, Jacob was on him—his large hands gripping Austin’s thighs, spreading them wide. The roughness of his touch sent a thrill through Austin’s entire body, his skin prickling with anticipation as Jacob’s enormous frame covered him. There was no time for hesitation. Jacob leaned in, his lips crushing against Austin’s in a bruising kiss, their tongues tangling as the Gorilla’s body pressed down on him, smothering him in warmth, power, and need. Austin’s mind went blank, his body responding instinctively, arching up into Jacob, craving every ounce of him. He barely had time to gasp before Jacob’s cock pressed against him, slick with precum, thick and demanding. The stretch was immediate, overwhelming, as Jacob thrust inside him in one smooth, merciless motion. Austin cried out, his hands gripping the sheets, knuckles white as Jacob’s massive cock filled him completely. It was too much, it was perfect—it was everything. Jacob didn’t wait, didn’t give him a moment to adjust. He slammed into him with a force that sent shockwaves through Austin’s body, every thrust deep, hard, relentless. The sound of their bodies colliding echoed through the room, mingling with Austin’s moans and the low, primal growls that rumbled from Jacob’s throat. Time blurred. Jacob was a machine, unstoppable, his body moving with precision and power as he pounded into Austin. Hours passed, each one more intense than the last. Austin’s body ached, his muscles trembling from the sheer onslaught, but he never once begged for it to stop. Every thrust was a wave of pleasure that crashed over him, leaving him gasping, moaning, shaking. Jacob’s body was soaked in sweat, muscles bulging and straining as he slammed into Austin over and over again, his cock buried deep, throbbing, leaking. It was a blur of motion, heat, and pleasure until, at last, Jacob’s hips snapped forward one final time, his massive body stiffening as he shot his fourth load deep inside Austin. The Gorilla’s cock pulsed violently, sending hot jets of cum into his Monkey, filling him to the brim. Austin’s body shook beneath him, every nerve ending on fire as Jacob collapsed on top of him, his weight heavy and comforting. The Gorilla’s broad, sweaty chest pressed into Austin’s back, his lips trailing along Austin’s neck, kissing him softly, a stark contrast to the brutal force of the last few hours. Austin could barely breathe, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his whole body trembling with exhaustion and ecstasy. His head turned to the side, lips parting as he gasped for air, still feeling the throbbing weight of Jacob’s cock inside him. He groaned, his voice weak but filled with awe as he whispered, “You're incredible Gorilla... I... I think you’ve finally worn me out.” Jacob grunted in response, his body still pressing down on Austin’s, but even through the haze of exhaustion, Austin could feel that Jacob wasn’t done. His cock still throbbed, hard, still buried deep inside Austin’s ass, and he knew the Gorilla’s desire hadn’t been satisfied yet. “I... I need a break,” Austin gasped, his voice barely above a whisper, his body begging for a moment of relief. “But... please, don’t pull out.” Jacob, panting, lifted his head, a soft chuckle rumbling from his chest. Without a word, he shifted, his strong arms wrapping around Austin as he carefully repositioned them. In one smooth motion, he pulled Austin’s exhausted body against his own, settling into their favorite position—Jacob’s massive frame spooning Austin’s smaller, trembling form. His cock still pulsed inside him, but for now, they were still, the rhythm of their breathing slowing as they caught their breath. The Gorilla kissed the back of Austin’s neck softly, his lips gentle against the sweaty skin, and Austin shuddered, sinking deeper into the warmth of Jacob’s embrace. He could feel the steady, reassuring beat of Jacob’s heart against his back, the Gorilla’s arms wrapped around him protectively. They were locked together in their favorite big spoon / little spoon position, still connected, and Austin sighed, the exhaustion fading into a deep, satisfied contentment. Jacob’s breath was hot against his ear as he whispered, “We’ll rest for now, Monkey. But I’m not done with you yet.” Almost immediately, he heard his Monkey’s cute little snores as he drifted off from the marathon exhaustion of Jacob’s pure sexual dominance, but Jacob was still too wired up to sleep. Even after the hours-long cardio of powerfucking his beautiful stud’s ass, Jacob was still wide awake and throbbing. He had pulled his fat horsecock halfway out so the Monkey would be comfortable but it was becoming increasingly torturous to remain still and not slam into the tight warm hole that he thoroughly owned. His mind had become so singularly focused on his Monkey’s sweet ass along with the overwhelming adrenaline flowing through him that he had shut out the world and was laser-focused on the sensation of his huge cock as it ached for release again. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and slowly pulled out hearing a little whimper from the Monkey as he stirred. Jacob kissed the back of his neck and whispered, “Grabbing a shake.” And again the cute snores returned as Jacob stood up and headed for the bedroom door. The remaining Tribe members had relocated the celebration party up to the lounge area in their penthouse presidential suite and all heads turned as the handsome, sweaty and pumped, muscular young stud came walking out of his bedroom. He was oblivious to the group and the instant lust of every man in the room as they watched Jacob walk to the kitchen area completely ignoring everyone and being led by his humongous hard horsecock that was still wet and shining from their recent sex play. Jacob opened the refrigerator and grabbed a pitcher of one of Luis’ premade shakes and stood with his gorgeous giant glutes to the room as he slowly and steadily downed the gallon of cold deliciousness. The room was still quiet as the men were captivated by the visual display of raw sexual power, but Jacob was in his own world and completely unaware of his admirers. He set the empty container on the counter and grabbed another giant shake in his beefy hand, turned, and headed back to his bedroom. His massive manhood still throbbing high and hard as he walked but now there was a long shimmering rope of precum that had escaped from the giant apple-sized head and was being pulled by gravity to the floor below. As the bedroom door closed behind him, the stunned room let out collective moans and sighs. There were several, “holy fucks” and “oh my gods”, from the tribe members as they recovered themselves from the walking sex machine that had briefly taken their breath away. Jacob stood alone on the terrace of their penthouse bedroom, looking out over the city skyline. The summer evening was warm, the breeze gentle against his naked skin as he set the shake down and wrapped his two big meaty paws around his aching cock. His thoughts focused on his Monkey’s beautiful body as Jacob moved and twisted the flexible muscle stud in countless positions. He pumped his hands up and down the magnificent cock enjoying the feel of the extreme thickness and length as his mind was still in a daze as fantasies of the Monkey and the huge men of the Tribe played in his head. He felt so strong, so muscular, so manly, and so fucking huge blessed with this gigantic horsecock that was expanding even more as he was seconds away from release. Jacob pounded faster, grunting like a beast and pumping his slick throbbing cock through his grip until he felt his balls pull up and like a firehose, he released rope after rope of thick white cum over the balcony wall. Jacob stood panting naked on the balcony, his body drenched in sweat. He let out a low laugh at the spectacle he had just performed for anyone in the surrounding highrise buildings to see. He grabbed the shake and downed half of it before sitting it back on the table. He looked down at his still rockhard huge cock, he knew he had a couple of more rounds in him but his head had cleared from the obsessive focus from before. Jacob breathed in and felt complete happiness and as the spell broke, he began to let his thoughts drift back over the past year. The weight of everything that had happened felt almost surreal, like a dream he was afraid he might wake up from at any moment. But it wasn’t a dream—it was his life now, and it had all started in the most unlikely of places. He smiled as he thought about the old barn back home. The memories of those early morning and late evening workouts, where he would lift rusty weights and push his body to its limits, were still vivid in his mind. It was in that barn that he first discovered his love for bodybuilding, and the raw power and discipline it demanded. His Uncle Joe had been supportive, but no one really understood what drove him except for himself. But everything had changed when he met Ryan. Jacob could still recall the first time he walked into that auditorium on campus. He had been shy, nervous, and unsure of himself, just a big kid who dreamed of becoming something more. And then he saw him—Ryan, the massive bodybuilder who seemed to embody everything Jacob aspired to be. Ryan had noticed him right away, offered him advice, and before long, they were training together. Ryan had been more than just a workout partner; he had become a mentor, a friend, and eventually, something deeper as he became the first man to be inside of Jacob. Jacob remembered how intimidated he had been at first by Ryan’s sheer size and presence, but also how safe he felt around him. Ryan had a way of pushing him past his limits, believing in him when Jacob doubted himself. Over time, their bond had grown, and Jacob couldn’t imagine his life without Ryan in it. And there was Hadi. Jacob’s thoughts turned to the enigmatic wrestler who had swept into his life like a whirlwind. Hadi was everything Jacob wasn’t—confident, bold, and unafraid to take what he wanted. Jacob could still feel the heat in his cheeks as he remembered that first date and his first kiss ever when Hadi had swept him off his feet. Hadi was so exotic, so strong, so fucking hairy, and so undeniably masculine. Hadi had become more than just a benefactor; he was a protector, a mentor, and someone who saw the world differently than anyone Jacob had ever met. He had opened doors for Jacob, not just in bodybuilding but in life, showing him that he didn’t have to struggle alone. Hadi had believed in him, invested in him, and in doing so, had become an important part of Jacob’s journey. And there was Zane. The Brazilian bodybuilder who oozed sex appeal had unexpectedly become a father figure to both Jacob and Austin over the past month. Despite his tough exterior and intimidating presence, Zane had taken them under his wing with a surprising gentleness, offering guidance and wisdom that had been invaluable to both of them. He had shared stories from his years in the bodybuilding world, giving them advice on everything from training techniques to navigating the challenges of public life. More importantly, Zane had been a steady, supportive presence, helping them both to believe in their potential and encouraging them to push their limits. His influence had played a significant role in Jacob’s recent surge in confidence, and he felt a surge of gratitude for the man who had become like a dad to them both. And what a muscle daddy! Jacob’s cock throbbed harder thinking about the versatile muscle stud whose sex drive surpassed both Jacob’s and Austin’s. Over the last month, Zane and Jacob had tag-teamed pounding the Monkey’s sweet ass and also they had flipped-fucked each other in every position imaginable. And then there was Austin—his Monkey. Jacob chuckled softly as he thought about how Austin had come into his life. His cute, energetic, and fiercely loyal boyfriend. It hadn’t taken long for Austin to win him over with his humor, his drive, and his unwavering support. Austin had been his rock, always there to lift him up when he was down, to make him laugh when he was stressed, and to push him to be his best. He was the chosen one when Jacob was struggling in the crisis between Ryan and Hadi, and Jacob knew that was the best decision he had ever made in his young life. They had shared so much together—the ups and downs, the sweaty workouts and sexual marathons, the late-night talks. Austin had a way of making everything feel like an adventure, and Jacob was grateful every day that they had found each other. He loved how Austin never let jealousy or insecurity get in the way and always focused on what made Jacob happy. It was a kind of love that felt pure and simple, and Jacob cherished it with all his heart. As Jacob stood on the terrace, he reflected on how far he had come. A year ago, he had been just another extremely shy, anxious college kid, unsure of his place in the world. Now, he was a rising star in the bodybuilding world, surrounded by a tribe of men who cared about him, supported him, and loved him for who he was. Jacob thought back to the competition, the challenges, and the triumphs. He had pushed his body to its limits, transforming from that scrawny young kid in the barn to a powerful, confident man who had just won his first major title. But more than the physical transformation, it was the emotional and mental growth that stood out to him the most. He had learned to trust others, to accept help, and to open his heart to the possibilities that life had to offer. The future was still uncertain, but for the first time, Jacob felt ready to face it. He had his tribe by his side—Ryan, his mentor and protector; Hadi, his benefactor and guide, Zane, his coach and leader; and his sweet Monkey, his love and partner. Together, they had built something strong, something unbreakable. And whatever challenges lay ahead, Jacob knew they would face them together along with the newest members of their tribe, Malik, Julian, Bennett, Manuel, Javier, Luis, and Marco. As the city lights twinkled in the distance, Jacob took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past year settling into a place of peace within him. He had found his path, his purpose, and the people who mattered most. And with that, he knew that this was only the beginning of an even greater journey. With a final glance at the skyline, Jacob turned back toward the warmth and love of his sleeping Monkey, ready to join him and the others and embrace whatever came next. The End - Book 1

TWO THOUSAND NINETEEN - JUNE (One year later) Brad Cardull was forty five years old and a separated father of three that looked more like 33 than a guy his age had a right to. Brad Cardull was a divorce lawyer from Simpson & Swain not known to lose. Brad Cardull was a new one-bedroom rental apartment on the River Wayne. Brad Cardull was no custody of the girls and two weekends a month with the boy. Brad Cardull was “you’re going to come out of this really well.” And right now, this weekend, Brad Cardull was a shared West Haven hotel room, attending the June NPC Connecticut Bodybuilding and Fitness Grand Prix. He was splitting the accommodations with the other two. Brad unpacked on the bed closer to the bathroom. A spectator’s lanyard hung around his neck. To imagine he’d never been to something like this before. What had that fucker “Ken-Ken” said about his going? Was it “Are you queer to be going with Shane to something like that?” Brad snorted. Faggot. In his bag, he had some of the food which he set toward the foot of the bed. He wouldn’t be the one to decide where that would go. He didn’t have much to put away of his own. Only what matched what he currently wore — workout shorts, more gray sweatpants, stringers, and tech long sleeves. Shane and the girl had the bed by the window. There was more space there. And light. More spots lent themselves to Shane stashing food, the rice cooker, clothes. Brad slid past those two as they maneuvered around each other. It was hard to slide past Shane. He was like a rhino in the room. Shane was famished and under duress from having dieted down. But he was mammoth — as big as he’d ever been or more. He looked even more humongous to the eye. In the illusion of the sport, his condition made his muscles look larger and more developed than they ever had. Of course, Shane was clothed right now. But Brad had certainly stared at enough check-in photos together with Shane hadn’t he? Holding Shane’s phone up together so close. Zooming the screen in everywhere. Shane was absolutely the real deal — had become so. He’d created a body for himself indistinguishable from the beasts they compared him to online. Fuck, Brad was boning proud to see Shane put it all on display. Amber — this was still the same Amber wasn’t it, thought Brad…. anyway whichever Allison it was, she shooed Shane to one of the chairs. “Rest, Shane,” she said. But he just moved out of the way. She tucked a set of dark oversized clothing into one of the chest drawers. Shane would slide under those once the base coat of tan had been sprayed on. He’d get that done and then have to make it last until the finishing touches before tomorrow’s morning round. Next, Alice took a bag from Shane’s pack with what looked like tools, sponges, lotions, and cloths. “What’s this, babe?” she said. Shane was looking out the window down at something in the parking lot. But Brad saw what she was holding. “That’s exfoliating stuff,” said Brad. Shane reverted his attention, “Yeah. I should do that soon.” “Can I help you with that?” she asked him. “You wanna, babe?” he laughed. Shane tugged the sweatpants he wore down off his ass. Off his huge round pile-driving muscle ass. “Even there, babe?” He cooed. Brad said nothing. But he glued his eyes to Shane’s narrow massive dumper and deep sculpted, crevassed crack. He just drank it in, careful not to bone, icily not responding in any way. “Hey,” Brad said after a beat, “Big Boy.” Shane turned toward Brad, his smile easy. Brad caught a hint of the front jockstrap pouch. The pubes all gone , being removed the day before. But the bulge impressive. “I’m gonna drive up to that fitness center over in Orange,” said Brad, “I’m planning about two and a half or three hours and then I’ll be back. Figured you’d be done exfoliating and tanning by then?” “Sounds cool, man,” said Shane, “Thanks again for coming along.” At the everyday Joe-and-Jane gym in Orange, a guy had approached Brad. The guy acted like he was waiting for something. Brad racked the squat bar and nodded at the dude. “That’s pretty amazing squat form,” the guy said. “Yeah,” said Brad. He just stared at the guy. It was odd to think that he’d had to start squatting with only twenty fives on each end back when he’d begun. He was doing manlier weight than that now. He had 115 on each side and was now adding a full plate per side for the next set. It’d be hard work to keep the form. But the habit of being a fucking pansy melted more and more away as he learned of the real man inside. Dropping low, settling down until his hams brushed his calves, his thighs burned all around, his adductors and abductors shivered with alignment, and then all of him muscled up. His mental imagery filled with it. He was a lifter working to grow. Some pantycrotch somewhere else could continue being a suburban golfer dad who didn’t care. But that wasn’t him. The mirror ruled his eyes. The set progressed. 365lbs for a set of eight. He’d moved a total over 3000 lbs. He flexed his quads. They were corded and hard. But not great wheels. They looked sexy though. His whole legs did. The flaps of his workout shorts shifted around the skin of his thighs and ass. The guy was still there. He said, “You’ve been lifting for a while, huh?” Brad said nothing. His gloved hand reached for his shaker cup and he took a long swig of the pre-workout he was nursing through the hours. He put another fifteen on each side. He checked the notch on his weight belt. He adjusted his knee wraps. The guy had just waited through it all. Brad said, “And what’s it to you?” He dug into his next set going for six. Back at the hotel, Brad found Shane tanned, warm-up draped, and alone. “Where is she?,” Brad asked. “Amelia got a call from her mom,” Shane answered, “she’ll be wandering around the halls on the phone for an hour.” Shane got up from one of the easy chairs. He was so gorgeously tall — almost on level with Brad. Shane stripped the crew-neck sweatshirt he wore. And pushed the big gray sweatpants off. The color was perfect. But what it colored was what the word perfect had really been defined for. Perfect musculature. Perfect massiveness. Perfect masculinity — tank-armored, sculpted, veed, over-hormoned wrapped in a skanky perfectly minuscule thong. “What do you think, Gymbro Brad?” Shane asked. Shane’s monster upper arms were utterly unrealistic. They had the girth of his head. But all tissue other than muscle had been melted away leaving only great ropes of displayed power. The breadth of Shane’s shoulders was also obscene. Brad knew what the width of a normal twenty five year old was. A typical twenty five year old standing in front of Shane would only cover a quarter of Shane’s span. The turtle backed torso concaved into the ass floss of the black spandex. Shane twisted displaying to Brad in one sweep the monumentality of his back, the crushing tightness of his slim fuck waist, the gratuitous hugeness of his mounded great builder’s ass, the protrusion of his unfairly large bulge, and the impossibility of his muscle-obese hams. “What do you think Gymbro Brad?” Shane queried again, chucking his chin at Brad and half sneering before letting his expression melt into the sweet smile of glory. “You look sick, Shane,” said Brad, “Fucking hypertrophied, sooo big and built up, too roided and extreme!” Shane stepped closer to Brad. He said, “Yeah, daddy. Is that right? Is that what you think?” Brad said, “You, in short, are a fucking jackoff dream.” He touched Shane ever so lightly, but more he dropped his nose in real close to the hollow of Shane’s sinewed neck and thew-armored shoulder, just under the muscle tissue that enhanced the diamond-carved jaw. Brad inhaled the accomplishment of it in and out. “Shit, Shane,” Brad said…., “Just shit.”

TWO THOUSAND NINETEEN - December (Six months later) Brad was bottles. Little, with piercable caps. He was a wipe and a glinting alloy pin. He was virgin ass cheeks. Brad Cardull was 46 years mistaken most often for 35. Brad was cool calculation and a man’s confidence. Brad Cardull was embracing desire now . Brad massaged his glute. The oral he’d taken earlier circulated molecules in his blood to do things to him that had never been done before. In the pin, was a little more. Test would boost his masculinization a touch more. To make a habit of roiding himself twenty minutes before the gym was going to pre-workout him in a form guys legally weren’t supposed to know. He was naked, reflected in the bathroom mirror before him. He was in admirable natural shape. Independent of his age he admired what he saw — cobbled abdominals, shoulders that could sport a stringer holding their own, and legs that flared. He would have been deeply affected by this if it was him when he was 19. Fuck would have gotten off at it also if this had been him at 25. He fiddled with his grip on the syringe and the positioning of his foot to keep the glute loose. He checked himself in the mirror obsessively such that his gaze ping-ponged between watching what he did and watching the lithe, hot-bodied athletic still prime-of-life man he’d become. The closer the moment came, though, he could both feel and see the chubbing of his cock. This was literally making him hard. And he just encouraged it thinking, “Get erect — Get harder and harder and more and more erect!” At last the pin was in and the dose given. It was the start. He knew it was dose one. But already he pledged to himself that he would be open to doing more. He raised his arm and appraised his 16” circumference. He kissed the rounded shape it made. He was 203lbs of built man. That was nothing. It was his plan to gain size and mass now through injecting the same things Shane did. “You’re never going to be some plain natural guy again,” he breathed. He flexed his whole body as hard as he possibly could and smiled with an edge worthy of a guy willing to go on gear.

Chapter 37 The sound of keys in the lock alerted Brock to Ollie's return. He positioned himself casually in the living room, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Ollie entered, his arms full of books. "Hey, I'm ba-" he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as they landed on Brock. "Whoa. Did you... get bigger?" Brock's smirk widened. "Maybe. Why don't you come find out?" Ollie dropped his books unceremoniously, crossing the room in quick strides. His hands reached out, running along Brock's arms through the thick sweater. "Holy shit," he breathed. "I can feel it even through this." Without warning, Ollie grabbed the hem of Brock's sweater, yanking it up and over his head. The sight beneath made him gasp. Brock's tight shirt left little to the imagination, showcasing a torso that defied belief. "Fuck, Brock," Ollie moaned, his hands roaming over the shirt-covered muscles. "Your chest... it's enormous. Like two boulders." Brock flexed his pecs, making them dance under the fabric. Ollie whimpered, a wet spot forming on his pants as precum leaked from his hardening cock. "You like that, baby?" Brock teased, reaching down to palm Ollie's growing erection. "Let's get this out, shall we?" With deft movements, Brock freed Ollie's cock, wrapping his massive hand around it. He began to stroke slowly, teasingly, as Ollie continued his exploration. Ollie's fingers found the hem of Brock's shirt, peeling it up to reveal his chiseled abs. "Oh my god," he gasped. "Your eight-pack... it's deeper, more defined. I could wash clothes on these ridges." He traced each abdominal muscle reverently, marveling at their hardness. Brock's hand on his cock never stopped its languid stroking, sending waves of pleasure through Ollie's body. Unable to resist, Ollie yanked Brock's shirt off entirely. The full sight of Brock's upper body left him breathless. "Your shoulders," Ollie murmured, running his hands over the massive deltoids. "They're wider than doorways now. And your traps... fuck, they're like mountains rising from your back." Ollie circled around, drinking in the sight of Brock's impossibly wide back. "Your lats... Jesus, Brock. You've got wings. Actual wings of muscle." Returning to Brock's front, Ollie's gaze dropped to the obscene bulge in Brock's baggy pants. Without hesitation, he yanked them down, revealing the straining jockstrap beneath. "Holy fuck," Ollie breathed, his voice filled with awe and lust. "Your package... it's... it's inhuman." Brock chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "Why don't you unwrap your gift, baby?" Ollie needed no further encouragement. He peeled the jockstrap down, gasping as Brock's massive cock sprang free. Even soft, it was a sight to behold. "It's... it's bigger," Ollie stammered, his hands reaching out to caress the flaccid monster. "How is that possible? You were already huge before." Brock's grin was wolfish. "I've been experimenting with the meteor, baby. Unlocking new levels of power." Ollie looked up, his eyes wide with a mixture of arousal and concern. "Is that safe?" Brock cupped Ollie's face with his free hand, the other still slowly stroking Ollie's leaking cock. "Don't worry about that now. Just enjoy what you see. What you feel." As if to emphasize his point, Brock flexed his entire body. Every muscle group swelled impossibly, veins popping out across his skin like a roadmap of power. Ollie moaned, his cock throbbing in Brock's grip. "You're not just a muscle god anymore," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "You're... you're beyond that. A titan." Brock's smile was triumphant. "That's right, baby. And it's all for you. Every inch, every fiber, every drop. You're the only one worthy of worshipping this body." As Ollie's hands continued to explore Brock's enhanced physique, both men knew that this was just the beginning. Brock's newfound power had opened doors to possibilities they had never imagined. And as Ollie's worship grew more fervent, his precum flowing freely over Brock's stroking hand. llie's hands trembled with a mixture of excitement and awe as he reached for the measuring tape. Brock stood before him, a living Adonis, his naked body a testament to the power of the meteor's enhancements. "Let's start with your arms," Ollie said, his voice hushed with reverence. He wrapped the tape around Brock's bulging bicep, the cold metal contrasting with the heat radiating from Brock's skin. "28 inches," Ollie breathed. "Jesus, Brock. That's... that's inhuman." Brock flexed, the muscle swelling even larger. "Keep going, baby. I want to know every inch of my new body." Ollie moved methodically, measuring each body part with the precision of a scientist and the adoration of a worshipper. "Chest: 65 inches. Waist: 32 inches. Thighs: 38 inches. Calves: 26 inches. Neck: 24 inches. Shoulders: 72 inches." Each measurement was punctuated by a gasp of disbelief from Ollie and a grunt of satisfaction from Brock. The numbers painted a picture of a physique that defied belief, a body sculpted by the gods themselves. Finally, Ollie's gaze fell to Brock's crotch. Even soft, his cock was a sight to behold. Ollie swallowed hard, reaching out with trembling fingers to measure the flaccid length. "Nine inches," he whispered. "Soft. Fuck, Brock." Brock grinned, his eyes darkening with lust. "Why don't you wake the beast up, baby? See how big it really gets." Ollie needed no further encouragement. He fell to his knees, his face level with Brock's massive cock. His tongue darted out, licking a stripe up the underside of the shaft. Brock groaned, the sound rumbling through his chest like distant thunder. "That's it, baby. Worship your god." Emboldened, Ollie took Brock's cock into his mouth, his lips stretching obscenely around the girth. He suckled the head, his tongue swirling around the sensitive crown. As Brock's cock began to harden, Ollie's hands roamed upward, finding Brock's massive pecs. He kneaded the muscle, feeling the hard nubs of Brock's nipples against his palms. "Fuck yes," Brock hissed, his hips beginning to thrust gently. "Play with daddy's tits while you suck his cock." Ollie pinched and rolled Brock's nipples, marveling at their size and sensitivity. Each touch seemed to make Brock's cock grow harder in his mouth, the shaft pulsing with increasing need. Brock's balls drew up tight against his body, swelling with their enhanced load. Ollie cupped them, feeling their weight, their heat. He licked at the sensitive skin, drawing a guttural moan from Brock. "Gonna... gonna cum if you keep that up," Brock warned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. Ollie pulled off with a lewd pop, strings of precum connecting his lips to Brock's cockhead. He looked down, eyes widening at the puddle of clear fluid that had formed on the floor beneath them. "You're leaking so much," Ollie marveled, swiping a finger through the slick and bringing it to his mouth. The taste was pure Brock, concentrated and intoxicating. Brock's cock bobbed before him, fully erect and glistening with Ollie's saliva and its own copious fluids. Ollie reached for the measuring tape once more, his hands shaking with anticipation. As he brought the tape to Brock's shaft, the massive cock twitched, slapping against Brock's abs with a resounding thwack. Ollie gasped, watching in awe as the cock head reached the middle of Brock's massive pecs. "15 inches," Ollie breathed. "Holy fuck, Brock. 15 inches." Ollie wrote down all measurements in the notebook: Height: 188 cm (unchanged) Weight: 145 kg (up from 120 kg) Chest: 65 inches (up from 58 inches) Waist: 32 inches (unchanged) Biceps: 28 inches (up from 24 inches) Forearms: 22 inches (up from 19 inches) Thighs: 38 inches (up from 34 inches) Calves: 26 inches (up from 23 inches) Neck: 24 inches (up from 22 inches) Shoulders: 72 inches (up from 65 inches) Penis (Flaccid): 9 inches length (up from 8 inches), 7.5 inches girth (up from 6.5 inches) Penis (Erect): 15 inches length (up from 12 inches), 9 inches girth (up from 8 inches) Testicle size: 50 ml each (up from 40 ml each) Chest Thickness: 9 cm (up from 7.5 cm) Abs Thickness: 4 cm (up from 3 cm) Body Fat: 4% (down from 5%) Nipple Diameter: 4 cm (up from 3.5 cm) Areola Diameter: 7.5 cm (up from 6.5 cm) Nipple Protrusion: 1 cm relaxed (up from 0.8 cm), 2 cm stimulated (up from 1.5 cm) Brock grinned, flexing his cock so it bounced against his chest again and again, each impact creating a lewd slapping sound that echoed through the room. "That's right, baby," Brock growled. "All for you. Every fucking inch." He reached down, grabbing Ollie by the shoulders and hauling him to his feet. With a single, fluid motion, he tore Ollie's clothes away, leaving him as naked as Brock. "Now," Brock said, his voice low and commanding, "I want you to explore. Smell me, taste me, feel every inch of your muscle god. Learn this new body, make it yours." Ollie whimpered, his own cock hard and leaking against his stomach. He pressed himself against Brock, inhaling deeply of his musky, masculine scent. His tongue darted out, licking at Brock's neck, tasting the salt of his sweat. His hands roamed Brock's body, tracing the ridges and valleys of his musculature. He marveled at the hardness, the heat, the sheer power contained in every fiber. Brock's skin was like silk over steel, smooth and inviting yet unyielding. Brock's eyes gleamed with mischief as he positioned his massive cock between his pecs. With a flex of his chest muscles, he created a deep cleavage, the head of his cock just visible at the top. "Watch this, baby," Brock growled, his voice husky with arousal. He began to flex and relax his pecs and abs in alternating rhythms, effectively fucking his own muscular crevices. The sight was mesmerizing - Brock's cock disappearing and reappearing between the mountains of his chest. Ollie whimpered, his own cock twitching at the display. Unable to resist, he dropped to his knees, his face level with Brock's undulating torso. "That's it," Brock encouraged. "Get in there. Worship daddy's body." Ollie's tongue darted out, licking along the exposed shaft of Brock's cock as it moved. He tasted salt, musk, and the unique flavor of Brock's precum. His hands moved up, fingers finding Brock's nipples and tweaking them roughly. Brock moaned, the sound rumbling through his chest like distant thunder. "Fuck yes, baby. Just like that." As Ollie continued his oral worship, one of Brock's massive hands snaked around, a thick finger probing at Ollie's ass. Without warning, he pushed inside, the digit feeling impossibly large in Ollie's tight channel. "Oh god," Ollie gasped, his body tensing at the intrusion. Brock's finger moved with expert precision, quickly finding Ollie's prostate and applying firm pressure. The dual stimulation of worshipping Brock's godlike body and having his most sensitive spot massaged proved too much for Ollie. With a cry of ecstasy, Ollie came, his cock pulsing untouched as he painted Brock's legs with ropes of cum. His body shuddered, overwhelmed by the intensity of his orgasm. But Brock wasn't done. His muscles flexed faster, his cock sliding through his self-made fuck tunnel with increasing speed. Ollie, still trembling from his own release, redoubled his efforts, licking and sucking at every inch of Brock's cock he could reach. "Gonna cum," Brock growled, his voice strained. "Gonna flood this fucking muscle pussy with my seed." With a roar that shook the walls, Brock came. His cock erupted like a geyser, pumping what seemed like gallons of cum into the crevices of his chest and abs. The creamy fluid filled every valley, overflowing and running down his torso in thick rivulets. "Clean me up, baby," Brock commanded, his chest heaving with exertion. "Don't waste a drop of daddy's cum." Ollie obeyed without hesitation, his tongue lapping at the streams of semen coating Brock's body. He started at Brock's legs, licking up the mixture of his own release and Brock's overflow. Then he moved to Brock's abs, his tongue dipping into each defined crevice to scoop out the pooled cum. Finally, he reached Brock's pecs, slurping noisily as he cleaned the deep cleavage. The taste was overwhelming - salty, musky, and undeniably Brock. It was the essence of masculinity, concentrated and amplified by the meteor's enhancements. As Ollie finished his task, both men were panting heavily. Brock's body glistened with a mixture of sweat and saliva, every muscle pumped and defined from his self-pleasuring. "Fuck, baby," Brock breathed, running a hand through Ollie's hair. "You're getting better at that every time." Ollie's eyes gleamed with a mixture of desire and trepidation as he gazed at Brock's massive, muscular frame. "Brock," he said, his voice trembling slightly, "I want to try something. Can I... can I fuck your pecs and abs?" Brock raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "You sure about that, baby? I don't want to hurt you. These muscles aren't exactly soft, you know." Ollie nodded eagerly, his cock already hardening at the thought. "Please, I need to feel it." With a shrug, Brock lay back on the bed, his massive chest thrust upward. "Alright, baby. Give it a shot." Ollie straddled Brock's torso, his cock nestling in the deep valley between Brock's pecs. He began to thrust, gasping at the sensation of the hard muscle surrounding his shaft. Brock flexed and relaxed his pecs rhythmically, creating a pulsing pressure around Ollie's cock. "How's that feel, baby?" he growled. "Oh god," Ollie moaned, his hips moving faster. "It's... it's incredible. So tight, so hard." The friction and pressure quickly built to a fever pitch. With a cry of ecstasy, Ollie came, painting Brock's chest with ropes of cum. As Ollie caught his breath, Brock grinned up at him. "Ready for round two? My abs are waiting." Ollie nodded, sliding down to position his still-sensitive cock in the ridges of Brock's eight-pack. He began to thrust once more, marveling at the hardness beneath him. Brock flexed his abs, the muscles rippling under Ollie's cock. The sensation was intense, almost overwhelming. Ollie's second orgasm hit him like a freight train, his body shuddering as he added to the mess on Brock's torso. As Ollie collapsed onto Brock's chest, spent and panting, Brock's massive cock twitched involuntarily. The movement was so powerful that it slapped against Ollie's back with considerable force. "Ow!" Ollie yelped, more surprised than hurt. "Careful with that thing!" Brock chuckled, but there was a note of concern in his voice. "Sorry, baby. Sometimes I forget my own strength." Ollie shifted, wincing slightly. "It's okay, but... Brock, your muscles. They're almost too hard. It kind of hurt my cock, especially your abs." Brock's brow furrowed with worry. "I was afraid of that. Maybe we should stick to more traditional methods." Ollie nodded, then glanced at Brock's enormous member. "Speaking of which... I don't think I can take you anymore. You're just too big now." Brock sat up, cupping Ollie's face in his massive hand. "Don't worry, baby. I can control it, remember? I'll keep it at 10 inches for you." Ollie's hand wrapped around Brock's shaft, stroking gently. "Show me," he whispered. Brock closed his eyes, concentrating. His cock began to shrink slightly, but then it pulsed, growing again. Ollie continued to stroke, watching in fascination as Brock struggled to maintain control. "I... I can't," Brock grunted, frustration evident in his voice. "It won't go smaller than 13 inches. Fuck!" "We'll figure it out," Ollie said finally, his voice filled with determination. "Whatever happens, we're in this together." Brock pulled Ollie close, enveloping him in a gentle embrace. "You're right, baby. We'll adapt. Find new ways to please each other."

Chapter 49 - Into the Spotlight The competition’s aftermath hit like a hurricane—fast, wild, and impossible to contain. The air was thick with celebration, the rhythmic pounding of tribal drums vibrating through the halls. Bodies pressed together, slick with sweat and adrenaline, in a mass of movement and joy. The Tribe was alive, high off the energy of victory, the raw intensity of what they’d just accomplished. For Austin, it was a dream realized—a third-place finish in his first major competition. His head spun with the surrealness of it all. He had only just started training for bodybuilding 9 months ago after years of gymnastics training. But it wasn’t just the celebration. There was something else, something lurking beneath the surface, something Austin hadn’t anticipated. It came creeping up on him later, a moment that would change everything. Austin slipped away from the noise and chaos, needing a moment to himself. He crouched near the back of the hall, the walls vibrating with the sound of drums and the low hum of voices. His thumb absentmindedly scrolled through his phone as he tapped through his social media feeds. His victory shots were already starting to flood Instagram—his triumphant grin, mid-pose with his muscles gleaming under the lights, Jacob flexing beside him, both of them carved from stone. Everything looked perfect. He could barely keep up with the notifications. The follower count ticked up like a counter on a bomb, the number skyrocketing. His phone buzzed constantly with messages: old friends, new fans, random people sliding into his DMs to offer congrats, and, of course, the obligatory flex emojis. His heart raced, the excitement almost too much to process. Then... Twitter. He clicked the icon, the familiar bird loading as the feed began to populate. At first, it was just the usual—mentions, tags, retweets. But then his eyes landed on something that made his blood run cold and hot at the same time. Jacob Knight. His Gorilla. Plastered everywhere. Pictures, gifs, tweets—it was like the internet had lost its mind and collectively decided that Jacob was the new obsession. A sensation. A fucking phenomenon. Austin’s mouth went dry as he scrolled, unable to believe what he was seeing. Jacob, always the quiet one, the powerhouse who never needed to brag. The one who let his body do the talking, the one whose mere presence on stage made the audience gasp. The guy who could stand still and make every other competitor shrink into the background. But now? Now, it was more than that. The entire world was catching up, and Austin was watching it unfold in real-time. His finger swiped down the screen, faster and faster, as tweet after tweet rolled in, each one more ridiculous than the last. They were everywhere. Jacob's handsome face, that sharp, chiseled jawline, those impossibly broad shoulders, the way his skin-tight blue posers barely clung to him. It was like someone had lit a fire, and now the internet was in full blaze. Gay Twitter had discovered Jacob Knight, and they weren’t letting him go. One tweet, pinned right at the top of the feed, caught his attention first. A side-by-side photo—Jacob was standing center stage in his posing trunks, flexing like a damn Greek statue next to an image of Superman, cape billowing, fists clenched. The caption: “Is it just me, or does Jacob look like a young Superman? Forget Clark Kent, Jacob’s the real deal. Those posers can barely hold all that... power.” Austin snorted, half laughing, half in disbelief. But as he scrolled, the comments kept coming—each one thirstier, more blunt than the last. He couldn’t keep up. “If Superman was *actually* real, he’d look like this stud. And, uh, did anyone else notice the size of that ‘package’? ” “Bro, forget saving the world, Jacob’s got me thinking impure thoughts. ” “Okay but seriously, those posers are fighting for their lives.” “I’d let him throw me around and not even complain. Superman can get it.” Austin’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, his chest shaking as the comments continued to grow bolder, more unfiltered. It wasn’t just thirst; it was a full-blown obsession. And they weren’t wrong. The pictures, the videos—Jacob’s body was insane, his muscles bulging in all the right places, his veins snaking down his arms like live wires. But the real talk? The conversation that had the internet frothing at the mouth was all centered around one thing. That gigantic bulge. It was like the universe had decided to make Jacob Knight the modern embodiment of male perfection and then gave him that—that huge, unmistakable monster cock and bull balls barely contained by the straining fabric of his posing trunks. The GIFs told the story better than any still shot could. One, in particular, had gone viral. Austin clicked on it, smirking. It was Jacob during the mandatory poses, standing front and center, hitting that double bicep. His arms exploded with size, pecs swollen and thick, and right there in the middle, like a damn exclamation point, was the bulge. His posers were working overtime to contain all that mass as it moved in time with each flex and hold. Austin fired off a quick message to Jacob, attaching the gif and a screenshot of one particularly viral tweet. The text read: “When you realize Superman’s been hiding at your local gym this whole time... and is hung like a fucking bull.” Austin's message: “Bro, check this out, you’ve gone viral.” Jacob’s response was instant: “What the...?! ” Austin couldn’t stop grinning. He replied: “Look at this shit, man. They’re thirsting hard over you, Gorilla. You’ve got the whole internet in a frenzy!” For a moment, there was nothing. Austin could practically picture Jacob, cheeks flushing red, scrolling through the endless tweets and retweets. Jacob wasn’t the kind of guy who was used to this. He had social media accounts but he never posted any images of himself, mostly it was Austin who would tag him in their photos. He dominated on stage, but when it came to stuff like this—attention, especially the kind that zeroed in on that particular aspect of his body—his huge horsecock—he wasn’t prepared. Finally, Jacob replied: “Dude, this is... insane. What are they even saying??” Austin’s laughter echoed off the walls as he typed back: “What aren’t they saying? People are ready to throw money at you just for showing up in those posers, big man. This is next level. You’re fucking Superman now. Enjoy it!” He threw in a few laughing emojis for good measure, followed by: “Oh, and by the way... those posers were a huge hit. ” The reply came slower this time, just a single blushing emoji followed by: “It’s a bit much, don’t you think?” Austin shook his head, still chuckling to himself. “Not at all. You’re a star, Gorilla. And now the whole world knows it, just like I always did.” He slipped his phone into his pocket, leaning back against the cool wall, letting the drums of celebration beat through his body like a second heartbeat. Jacob. His Gorilla. The shy, humble beast who had just broken the internet without even trying. Austin couldn’t help the swell of pride that filled his chest. Jacob deserved every bit of the praise, even if he didn’t quite know how to handle it. --- An hour later, the after-party was in full swing. The club was packed, the air thick with sweat, laughter, and the rhythmic pounding of music. The Tribe was in full force, their massive frames taking up space, moving with a sense of power and confidence. But Austin could tell something was off with Jacob. Even in the midst of the celebration, Jacob had gone quiet, more reserved than usual. Jacob stood on the outskirts of the dance floor, his massive frame casting a shadow as he stared into his drink. The music reverberated through the club, but it barely registered. Every now and then, he’d glance up, catching glimpses of people—eyes drawn to him like moths to a flame, whispers floating in the air, heads turning just a little too quickly when they thought he wasn’t looking. It felt like his body was on display, more than usual. And this time, it wasn’t just because of his muscles. He felt Austin before he heard him, the slap on the back bringing him out of his thoughts. “Yo, Gorilla, what’s up Superman?” Jacob grunted, but the name made him flinch. “Don’t start with that.” “Start with what? You gonna act like half the internet isn’t thirsting over your ‘superhuman’ abilities? Come on, man. You’ve seen the tweets.” Jacob exhaled slowly, his breath mingling with the sweat and heat of the club. “Yeah, I’ve seen ‘em.” He knew what Austin was doing—trying to lighten the mood, to make him feel less awkward about the whole thing. But it was hard to shake off the weirdness, the feeling of eyes dissecting every inch of him. “It’s just... I don’t know. It feels weird.” Austin cocked an eyebrow. “Weird? You mean it feels weird to be idolized? Dude, this is what you signed up for when you stepped on that stage looking like a fucking Greek statue.” Jacob rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel the weight of it all pressing down. He wasn’t just a bodybuilder anymore. He wasn’t just the guy with the insane physique who won competitions and flexed for a living. No. It wasn’t his muscles they were gawking at anymore—it was him. All of him. “It’s not that,” Jacob finally admitted, his voice quiet. “I’ve gotten used to the attention, you know, the physique stuff. But this... this is different. People aren’t just looking at my muscles anymore.” He hesitated, the words getting stuck in his throat. “They’re all looking at my big cock.” There. He said it. The thing that had been gnawing at him since Austin’s message blew up his phone. His chest felt tight as the reality sank in—he wasn’t just another bodybuilder going viral for looking jacked. The internet had latched onto his size, and now they were thirsting over his cock as much as anything else. His massive cock, apparently. Austin’s knowing chuckle grated on his nerves, but Jacob couldn’t help but listen. “Yeah, they’re definitely looking at all of you now. But that’s not a bad thing, is it?” Jacob’s gut reaction was to say “yes,” to shrink away from the idea of people fantasizing about him in ways that had nothing to do with his hard-earned physique. But at the same time, there was something undeniably... satisfying about it. They weren’t ignoring his size, sure, but this was just another level of recognition. The awe was deeper. It wasn’t just respect for his dedication—it was hunger, raw and unfiltered. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t stir something in him. He stared at his drink, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, the ice clinking softly. “I didn’t think about it like that.” “Maybe you should.” Austin leaned in closer, voice low but full of that same cocky, knowing energy. “You’re Superman, remember? And Superman’s gotta embrace all the... powers he’s been given.” Jacob couldn’t help but smirk, even though his gut still twisted a little. He wasn’t ready for this, for people seeing him as some sex god, but... was it so bad? Was it wrong to like the attention? To feel powerful because of it? Because it wasn’t just the internet that saw him like that—it was everyone. Men and women alike, their eyes glinting with lust whenever he walked by. He could feel it, the way they admired not just the size of his biceps or the width of his shoulders, but everything he was. The size of him. And it wasn’t just admiration. It was fucking worship. Austin’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Damn right, I’m right,” he said with a grin, clapping Jacob’s back again, harder this time. “Now come on, the night’s still young, and everyone in there is waiting to celebrate with Superman.” Jacob rolled his eyes, but his grin widened. He wasn’t fully comfortable with it yet—the sheer magnitude of it all—but maybe he didn’t need to be. Maybe that was part of what made it thrilling. He was used to controlling how people saw him, how they admired his physique, but now? Now, it was out of his hands. They were looking at him—at all of him—whether he liked it or not. And maybe, just maybe, he did like it. As they walked back into the heart of the party, the music pounded louder, bodies packed tight, the heat of it pressing in from all sides. Jacob felt the stares again, felt the way eyes dragged over him, lingering on the bulge that his stretch jeans couldn’t hide. A couple of girls whispered to each other as he passed, giggling when he glanced their way, faces flushed. A guy near the bar nodded in approval, his gaze lingering a little too long. And Jacob? Jacob just smirked. He wasn’t just a freak in the gym anymore. He wasn’t just a mass of muscle for people to admire from a distance. No, they wanted more. They wanted all of him, every inch. His chest swelled with the thought. He was fucking huge, in every sense of the word, and it wasn’t just his muscles people wanted to get their hands on anymore. He was a fucking fantasy come to life. The world wasn’t just watching. The world was drooling. And maybe, just maybe, it was time he accepted it. Time he embraced being the giant that everyone wanted a piece of. The man whose size wasn’t just impressive—it was legendary. Austin was right. Superman didn’t just fly under the radar. Superman fucking owned it. As they reached the center of the party, the Tribe greeted them with cheers, their massive forms dominating the space. The music throbbed harder, the energy in the room palpable. Someone handed Jacob another drink, and this time, he took it with a grin, raising it high as the crowd around him erupted into applause. They weren’t just celebrating his win on stage. They were celebrating him. The night stretched ahead, full of possibility. Full of eyes watching, wanting, thirsting. And Jacob? Jacob was ready.

Chapter 48 - The Stage is Set The competition weekend had finally arrived, marking the culmination of months of brutal preparation—the bodybuilding contest was here. The backstage area buzzed with an almost electric energy, the hum of anticipation thickening the air. This wasn’t just a contest. It was the ultimate test, where every sacrifice, every drop of sweat, every carefully measured meal and sleepless night would be put on display. Austin and Jacob stood at the center of it all, the only two competitors from the Tribe today. Austin, competing in the Light Heavyweight division, was first. Jacob’s turn would come later in the evening in the prestigious Classic Physique division. The rest of the Tribe—Hadi, Malik, Julius, Bennett, Manuel, Javier, Luis, and Marco—were already seated in the front row, waiting with bated breath for Austin to take the stage. Zane and Ryan, the two seasoned coaches, remained backstage, their focus intense, hovering near Austin and Jacob like sentinels. Ryan, a colossal presence at 440 pounds of sheer power, kept his eyes locked on Austin, assessing him with the meticulous gaze of a general readying his soldier for battle. Zane, the former Pro Bodybuilder, hovered near Jacob, preparing him for the later contest, his hands and eyes busy, focused. Both coaches were silent but commanding, their presence enough to keep Austin and Jacob centered, focused, and ready. Austin stood there, a mix of nerves and adrenaline making his heart race. At 196 pounds, he was competing in the Light Heavyweight division for the first time, and the stakes couldn’t be higher. His bright orange posing trunks were snug, every line and striation in his muscles enhanced by the sheen of oil that clung to his skin like a second layer. This moment had been building for months, every workout, every bit of pain and sacrifice leading to this. He could feel it in his bones. “You’ve got this, Monkey,” Ryan rumbled, his voice low and steady as he clapped a massive hand on Austin’s shoulder. “Just hit those poses hard, exactly like we practiced.” Austin nodded, his nerves settling as Ryan’s words washed over him. He started to stretch, bouncing lightly on his toes, feeling the coiled tension in his legs, his heart pounding as the announcer’s voice echoed backstage, signaling the start of his division. “Competitors for the Light Heavyweight division, to the stage!” Zane stepped forward, eyes intense. "Seven poses, Austin. Hit them like a machine. They need to feel it. You make it into the top five, and that’s where you put the artistry. But for now—power." Jacob gave Austin a quick kiss on the lips, “You got this Monkey! Go shine!” Austin’s body responded like it had been trained to. Everything else fell away—the noise, the chaos of the backstage area, the weight of expectation. All that mattered now was the stage, the judges, and the seven mandatory poses that would determine whether he made the top five. He glanced back at Jacob backstage, who gave him a small nod, his expression calm and supportive. Jacob’s time would come later, but right now, this was Austin’s moment. Austin moved toward the stage entrance, the bright lights shining ahead like a beacon. The roar of the crowd grew louder, a wave of sound crashing over him as he stepped out under the harsh spotlight. The heat of the lights hit him, instantly bringing out every striation in his skin, every muscle cut to perfection. He joined the line of other competitors, each of them titans in their own right, but none of them as ready as him. He believed it. He was locked in. The announcer’s voice boomed. “Front double bicep!” Austin’s body snapped into the pose, his arms swelling, biceps peaking high as his abs tightened, the cut of his muscles looking sharp enough to draw blood. He could hear the crowd’s low murmur of approval, but his focus stayed on the judges, eyes scanning them for every reaction, every flicker of interest. “Front lat spread!” He pivoted smoothly, Lats flaring, abs tight as his torso expanded wide. Every cut, every ripple of his muscles, was designed for this moment. He could feel his body coming alive under the pressure, the heat of the lights making the oil shimmer against his skin. His calves bulged, the veins snaking up his legs as his thighs flared out. “Number 3 move to the center, Number 11 and 14 on either side of Number 3,” came the instruction from the head judge. Austin’s mind was blank and he had to look down at his tag to remember he was number 11. He quickly took his place. “Side chest!” Austin turned to his left looking at his prime competition, Number 3, reached and expanded his chest high and thick. Every muscle in his body screamed with effort as he poured everything into the flex. “Back double bicep!” He spun, pulling his arms back, lats spreading wide, creating an illusion of even more size. His back was a tapestry of muscle, each ridge and valley standing out under the spotlight. His legs anchored him to the ground, solid as an oak, and his arms pulled back in a pose that made his whole upper body seem to explode with power. Austin hit each mandatory pose perfectly, the audience reacting with murmurs of awe, his nerves evaporating with each flex of his muscles. The final pose came—the abs and thighs—and he nailed it. His abs crunched tight, the deep cuts in his midsection framed by the flare of his quads. When the mandatory round ended, Austin stood, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his skin as the judges deliberated. The wait was agonizing, but he forced himself to stay calm, his mind focused. Then, the call came. “Number 11, please step forward.” He made it. The crowd erupted in applause as Austin was called into the top five. Ryan and Zane exchanged quick, approving nods from the side of the stage, their pride palpable but restrained. The rest of the Tribe exploded with cheers from the front row, their voices booming through the arena, but Austin barely registered it. His heart pounded with adrenaline. This was the moment to show everything. Austin took the stage again, alone this time, for his individual posing routine. His body hummed with energy as the music started, and he hit his first pose—front lat spread. His lats flared wide, his waist cinched tight, creating the perfect V-taper. The crowd gasped audibly, the judges leaning forward, clearly impressed. He moved fluidly into his next poses—side triceps, rear double bicep—his muscles reacting with precision to every flex, every angle. His legs flared, quads popping, calves bulging. Austin’s routine wasn’t just powerful—it was athletic, graceful, and aggressive all at once. When he finished with a daring splits move, the crowd roared, shocked and delighted by his flexibility. Austin was sweating, and breathing hard, but he felt alive. His body had responded perfectly, and now all he could do was wait. The top 5 were called back on stage, “Fifth place, Derek ‘the Anvil’ Sanders.” “In fourth place, Marcus ‘the Machine’ Colton!” A few tense minutes later, the announcer’s voice echoed through the venue. “Third place, Austin “the Muscle Monkey” Hawthorne!” The Tribe erupted, their cheers shaking the building. Austin’s face broke into a wide grin as he looked toward the front row, where the rest of the Tribe were standing and shouting his name. He glanced at Jacob, who was still backstage, waiting for his turn, and their eyes met. Jacob’s smile was huge and full of pride. --- The evening moved forward, and as the lights dimmed once again, the Classic Physique division was called. It was finally Jacob’s time. Zane and Ryan turned their attention to him now, the air in the pump room thick with tension as they prepared him. Jacob’s body was a monument to years of work—at 235 pounds, he was perfectly balanced between size and aesthetic appeal. His posing trunks clung to him accentuating his monster glutes and massive bulge, his muscles already warm and pumped as Zane applied a final coat of oil, making sure every inch of his skin glistened under the lights. “You’ve done the work. Now show them why you belong here,” Zane murmured as he stepped back, taking in the full picture. Jacob gave a small nod, his expression calm, his pulse steady. He could already hear the crowd, and feel the heat of the stage waiting for him. The Classic Physique division was different from the Light Heavyweight. It wasn’t just about size; it was about symmetry, flow, and artistic posing. And Jacob was ready. When he stepped onto the stage, the crowd gasped. The handsome young man was truly breathtaking with his thick jet-black hair, gray eyes, full lips, and square jaw, he looked like a movie star. His muscular frame looked impossibly wide under the lights, his legs thick, his waist tight, every muscle in his body perfectly balanced. And there was no denying that huge bulge packed full of meat perfectly displayed in the bright blue posers. The judges were already whispering to one another as Jacob and the other competitors lined up for the mandatory round. “Front double bicep!” Jacob’s arms flexed with terrifying precision, his biceps peaking high, veins snaking across the thick slabs of muscle. His waist cinched tight, creating that coveted V-shape, his legs flaring out with incredible symmetry. “Number 2 move to the center,” came the instruction from the head judge. Jacob gave a small nod as he moved from the far left of the stage to the center of the group of 9 competitors. The poses continued—Front Lat Spread, Side Chest, Side Triceps, Back Double Biceps, Rear Lat Spread, and Abdominals with one thigh—and with each pose, Jacob dominated. His lats flared wide in the back poses, his chest looked like it could explode from the skin, and his abs crunched down so tight it was as if they were carved from stone. The judges were locked on him, their pens moving rapidly as he moved smoothly from one pose to the next. The call for the top five came, and of course, Jacob’s number was called. The crowd erupted again, but Jacob didn’t smile. Not yet. He had one final routine to complete. His body felt like a coiled spring as the music began. Jacob’s posing routine was fluid and artistic, each movement carefully choreographed to show off every strength in his physique. His side triceps shot out like a cannon, his quads flaring like the roots of a massive tree. His rear double bicep was the crown jewel, his back so thick, so detailed that the crowd erupted before he even finished the pose. When he hit his final most muscular pose, the judges’ faces told the story. Jacob knew he had them. The moment of truth came as the final two remaining contestants from the top 5 remained on stage, and as the announcer’s voice echoed through the arena, time seemed to slow. “Second place to Antonio Balboa! And first place in the Classic Physique division—Jacob Knight!” The Tribe erupted, and this time it felt like the whole building shook. Ryan and Zane stormed the stage, lifting Jacob into the air, their cheers mixing with the deafening applause of the audience. Austin ran up to join them, grinning from ear to ear, his third-place medal gleaming against his chest. They had done it. For Austin, Jacob, and the entire Tribe, this was more than just a win. It was the reward for every ounce of pain, sacrifice, and sweat they had given to this life. And standing together, under the bright lights and deafening cheers, they knew—this was only the beginning.

Chapter 38 Brock and Ollie made their way to the shower. The warm water cascaded over their bodies, washing away the evidence of their passion. They moved in comfortable silence, hands gently exploring each other's slick skin. After drying off, Ollie padded into the living room, his mind still hazy with post-orgasmic bliss. He reached for the remote, turning on the TV more out of habit than any real desire to watch. The screen flickered to life, and Ollie's eyes widened as he saw the breaking news banner scrolling across the bottom. "Failed Bank Robbery: Suspect in Critical Condition, Mysterious Masked Man Involved." Ollie's heart began to race as the newscaster's voice filled the room. "In a bizarre turn of events, the attempted robbery of Ironclad Trust Bank was thwarted by an unknown individual. Eyewitnesses report seeing a masked, nude man with an extraordinarily large... appendage... fleeing the scene by leaping across rooftops with superhuman agility." The screen cut to blurry cell phone footage, showing a massive, muscular figure bounding effortlessly from building to building. Despite the poor quality, the man's physique was unmistakable. Ollie's breath caught in his throat as he recognized Brock's distinctive form. "The suspect, identified as Marcus Rollins, was found in the bank vault, severely injured and in a state of shock," the newscaster continued. "He was rushed to St. Mary's Hospital, where he remains in critical condition." The image shifted to a hospital room, and Ollie gasped as he saw Marcus. The once-fit man was a shell of his former self, his body gaunt and frail beneath the hospital gown. Tubes and wires snaked from his prone form, and his eyes held a haunted, faraway look. "In a bizarre statement given to police, Mr. Rollins claimed that the masked man was responsible for his injuries, alleging that the individual somehow drained him of his muscle mass and... violated him in a brutal manner. Authorities are treating these claims with skepticism, as the described scenario seems medically and physically impossible." Ollie's mind raced, pieces falling into place with sickening clarity. Brock's sudden growth spurt, his increased power and stamina... it all made sense now. "Police found traces of bodily fluids at the scene," the newscaster said, her voice carefully neutral, "but no concrete evidence linking any individual to the crime. The bank's security cameras were disabled by what appears to have been an EMP device, leaving investigators with little to go on." Ollie's hands began to shake, the remote slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floor. The sound drew Brock's attention, and he emerged from the bedroom, a look of concern on his face. "Ollie? What's wrong?" Ollie pointed to the screen, his voice trembling. "It was you. You... you did that to Marcus. You stole his muscles, you... you raped him." Brock's eyes widened, then narrowed. "I stopped him, Ollie. He was going to rob that bank. And after what he did to me... he deserved to pay." Ollie shook his head, backing away. "Not like this, Brock. This is... this is monstrous. How could you?" Brock stepped forward, his massive frame filling the room. "I did what I had to do, Ollie. To protect the city, to get my revenge. You have to understand..." But Ollie was already moving, grabbing his backpack from the closet. "I can't... I can't be here. I can't be a part of this." Panic flashed across Brock's face, and he lunged forward, wrapping Ollie in a desperate embrace. "Please, baby. Don't go. I need you." Ollie struggled against Brock's grip, his voice rising to a scream. "LET ME GO! I'M SCARED OF YOU!" The words hit Brock like a physical blow. His arms fell to his sides, and he stepped back, tears welling in his eyes. "Ollie..." But Ollie was already at the door, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He paused, looking back at the man he'd loved, the man he now feared. "I'm sorry, Brock. I... I can't do this." With that, he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him. Brock stood in the middle of the living room, his godlike body shaking with sobs. The TV droned on, the newscaster's voice fading into background noise as the weight of his actions crashed down upon him. As Ollie stumbled out of Brock's house, his heart pounding and mind reeling, he spotted a bus pulling up to the nearby stop. Without hesitation, he sprinted towards it, his backpack bouncing against his back with each desperate stride. The bus doors hissed open just as Ollie reached them. He scrambled aboard, fumbling for change and dropping into the nearest seat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. As the bus lurched into motion, Ollie glanced out the window, his stomach dropping as he saw Brock burst out of the house. Brock was a sight to behold, his massive frame barely contained by hastily donned clothes. He began to run after the bus, each powerful stride eating up the distance between them. Even in his panicked state, Ollie couldn't help but marvel at Brock's speed and grace, his enhanced physique allowing him to keep pace with the accelerating vehicle. With trembling hands, Ollie pulled out his phone. He knew he had to stop Brock before things escalated further. He dialed the number, watching as Brock reached for his own phone without breaking stride. "Ollie!" Brock's voice was a mixture of relief and desperation. "Please, baby, don't go. Let me explain-" "Stop following me, Brock," Ollie cut him off, his voice cracking with emotion. "Please, just... just stop." Through the rear window of the bus, Ollie could see Brock's face fall, but his legs kept pumping, closing the gap between them. "I'm scared, Brock," Ollie continued, tears welling in his eyes. "I'm scared of what you've become. Of what you did to Marcus. Of what you might do to me." Brock's pace faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his rhythm. "I would never hurt you, Ollie. You know that. I love-" "You're too big, Brock," Ollie interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your muscles, your... your cock. It's all too much. And you can't control it anymore. What if you lose control with me? What if you hurt me without meaning to?" Ollie watched as Brock's steps began to slow, the reality of Ollie's words sinking in. "I... I wouldn't..." Brock stammered, but even he sounded uncertain. "Please, Brock," Ollie pleaded, "stop following me. I need time. I need... I need to feel safe again." There was a long pause, filled only by the sound of Brock's heavy breathing and the rumble of the bus engine. Then, finally, Brock's massive form came to a halt in the middle of the road. "Okay," Brock said, his voice small and broken. "I'll stop. I'm sorry, Ollie. I'm so, so sorry." Ollie watched through the back window as Brock's figure grew smaller in the distance. Even from afar, he could see the moment Brock's composure shattered. The massive man fell to his knees in the middle of the street, his body wracked with sobs that Ollie could almost feel through the phone. "Goodbye, Brock," Ollie whispered, ending the call before Brock could respond. As the bus turned a corner, taking Brock out of sight, Ollie slumped in his seat. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, his body shaking with silent sobs. The other passengers cast concerned glances his way, but Ollie was lost in his own world of grief and fear. He had no idea where he was going or what he would do next. All he knew was that he needed to get away, to process the horrifying revelations of the day. As the bus carried him further from the man he loved – and now feared – Ollie wondered if he would ever feel safe enough to return. Back on the street, Brock remained on his knees, his enhanced body heaving with each gut-wrenching sob. Passersby gave him a wide berth, intimidated by his size and the raw emotion pouring out of him. In that moment, despite all his power and strength, Brock had never felt more weak, more vulnerable, more utterly human. The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the street. But Brock didn't move, couldn't move. He stayed there, a mountain of muscle brought low by the weight of his actions, as the world continued to turn around him.

Hi all I've been lurking on this site for a while on my main account but wanted to give writing my own story a shot. Been inspired by some amazing works, and a friend gave me a push to try my hand. This is kinda the first draft, since I want to actually finish the story and I think I'd spend all day just nitpicking if I didn't do it this way. Enough stalling, this is sort of a prologue vignette, while the rest of the story will feature more characters and different dynamics than the more dom/sub story below. Hope you all enjoy, and more to come. “It’ll hurt boy, but you’re gonna enjoy it.” Dan said as he filled the syringe, the near bright orange liquid passing each marker until all 3ml were full of it. James could feel the sweat soaking into his tank, as a slight tremble started in his hands. James’ nerves only got worse as he watched Dan change the drawing needle, for a much longer than he was expecting pinning one. He never expected to be so scared of something that couldn’t be longer than an inch and a quarter. “You’re a good boy, you do as sir says. You’re a good boy, you do as sir says…” James spoke under his breath, repeating the words almost like a silent prayer to some benevolent god. “You are a good boy, James. And this will make you an even better boy.” Dan placed a large hand on James’ shoulder, the warmth of his meaty calloused hand brought some comfort, but James’ eyes never moved from the syringe in Dan’s other hand. “Just breathe.” Dan brought the tip of the needle to James’ sack, the usually low hanging lemons had pulled up a bit as James got more and more nervous. With a swift push, Dan buried the needle in. James let out a pained inhale as he felt the needle insert, he’s breathing coming in rapid and shallow as he did his best to not tense. “Good boy.” Dan cooed reassuringly. James would’ve almost laughed in any other circumstance hearing the large brute try to be gentle, especially hearing the gruff deep voice of his sir in such a way. James was brought back to the moment as he felt a new sensation; heat. His balls were burning as he watched Dan slowly push the plunger in. With each ml that entered James’ balls, they almost seemed to plump up an inch in return. By the time Dan was done, James’ balls had gone from lemons to solid oranges. Slowly the pain was going away, instead just replaced with the heat - and with each passing second, the heat grew more and more intense and pleasurable. James watched his shaft respond to it too, the thickening dick growing to its full 7 inches… and then more. Slowly it kept growing, veins becoming more prominent as the head kept swelling higher for another inch or so. “Fuck yeah, boy.” Dan gave James a quick tug, making sure to apply solid pressure as he did. “Time for the rest.” Withdrawing the syringe, Dan drew another 3ml of the Veat. James was feeling good. Better than good. The heat radiated from his groin in waves, almost like mini orgasms traveling through his veins. His libido was going wild, and if not for his sir commanding him to not cum for the day, he’d have blown his load by now. “Lookin so good, boy.” Dan said as he slid the new needle in. James didn’t even feel pain this time, just a slightly different sensation in-between the waves. “Get it in me, sir.” James felt his dick twitch slightly as he spoke. His voice was different - lower, fuller. No longer so common and higher than his sir’s, it felt ‘meaty’ in his throat, something between a warm bass, and a primal gritty tone. James could see Dan react too, the overstuffed pouch of his gym shorts bouncing slightly as a small wet spot formed. The feelings in James only intensified as Dan injected the Veat. The heat became overwhelming as it filled every inch of him. The few veins that were visible on James’ arms swelled, pushing against his skin as they grew slightly into a more prominent display. Pre had begun leaking heavily from James’ dick, coating the swelling shaft in his own sticky fluids. “Woof, boy. Seems it’s working real good.” Dan chucked as he slid his shorts down his thighs, revealing the swollen meaty quads, hams, and the packed-full green jock. Pre stained the strained fabric, along with various sweat and cum stains that had sunk deep from the lack of washing. Usually along with the it, came a heavy waft of Dan’s scent - cum and sweat. But there was none of it. Instead the room was getting overpowered by James’ new stink, his sweat mixed with pre scent was dominating Dan’s; James’ could feel something inside him crack, like a chain finally breaking under the strain. One of the many that would break in the next few minutes. James rose from the chair, his eyebrow cocking slightly as he realized he was looking into Dan’s eyes, not up at them; he saw the same reaction in Dan’s hardened eyes. Both of their gaze shifted down towards James’ body, noticing even more beginning to take shape. The feeling of heat had been so overpowering that James hadn’t feel his clothes digging into his swelling body. His athletic pecs were stretching the fabric more and more with each wave of heat, same with his lats - the once decently developed wings were getting heavy with size, before eventually the sound of tearing began to fill the room. A small smirk spread across James’ face, before he took a deep inhale. He saw Dan’s pouch visibly bounce as the fabric ripped, and ripped, until it couldn’t hold together anymore, falling away uselessly to the ground. “Fuck.” Was all Dan said as he took in James’ new torso. The once athletic lean twunk had become a swollen meathead. Still smaller than himself, but growing more and more into something fucking powerful. Hairy pecs with a meaty overhang sat beneath a thickening neck, two large perfectly swollen delts sitting on either side that connected to two overstuffed hams called his arms. The smooth twunkish 6-pack that used to adorn James’ torso was replaced by an 8-pack, each deep and thick sized ab coated in a nice layer of hair. That smirk spread even further as James heard that. Planting his feet, James flexed his swelling quads. Dan nearly came then and there as he watched the heads of his meaty quads - that nearly rivaled his own, and far surpassed the lithe ones that were there just minutes ago - explode outward, revealing the deep grooves that cut between each of them, even through the fine layer of hair that now covered them. And all of that was nearly overshadowed by the growth just above. James’ orange sized balls had grown even further, nearing twice as large as they were before he’d grown. The same was true of his dick, the thick now near 11 incher was practically double the size of his previous endowment. “H-how do you feel?” Dan asked, his eyes still trained on the new body in front of him, and another chain snapped inside James. “I feel… more.” The words came out almost like a growl in his throat, each syllable rumbling and resonating through his muscle packed frame. “I feel more powerful.” James took a step forward, reducing the distance between the two. “I feel more aroused.” James made his swollen dick bounce for added flair as he took another step closer. “And I feel like you know what I want.” James took the last step, his hair covered pecs brushing against Dan’s as Dan’s dick fought against it’s jock confines. Something in Dan’s eyes changed, and slowly he sank himself to his knees, his powerfully built body grinding against the rigid underside of James’ shaft, the swollen head leaving a thick trail of pre along the way. Dan was just at eye level with James’ bellybutton when he came to a stop, the plump head of his dick resting just below Dan’s chin as it continued to leak a steady flow of pre down onto his pecs. He tried looking up into James’ eyes, but was only met with a dense meaty overhang of hairy pec meat. Slowly Dan grasped the thick cock in front of him, his hand barely able to encircle the shaft all the way around. He gave it a slow long tug, enjoying the texture of the engorged veins, and bloated meat. Dan brought his lips to the head, savoring the flavor of the pre as it continued to leak. “You’re taking too long.” James moaned as he placed his hands around Dan’s skull. With strength that hadn’t been there minutes ago, he roughly pulled Dan onto his dick, stretching his lips almost painfully as his jaw was forced open - James almost didn’t even seem to mind as Dan’s teeth grazed against his shaft. Dan gagged as he was forced farther down his length, his jaw already aching when he was only halfway down - the discomfort only getting more intense by the time he felt his lips connect with the root. James held him there for a few long moments, forcing Dan to endure the now overwhelming stench of his hairier crotch, and the taste of the pre steadily trickling down his overstuffed throat. Slowly James pulled most of his dick free from Dan’s mouth, savoring the sensation of his former Dom’s tight throat. James started slamming his dick in and out with more and more vigor - each time he felt his cumfilled balls slam into Dan’s chin a wet retch came from the submissive man’s throat. James didn’t notice it, too focused on his own overwhelming pleasure, but Dan could feel the increased amount of pre flooding into him. It was becoming more and more potent, before he felt his jaw ever-so-slowly getting pressed further open. James’ thick member was almost throbbing as it continued to slide in and out, but with each heartbeat pulse it didn’t get smaller, it only continued to swell and engorge further. James was pulling rougher as he felt his climax approach, he could feel it getting harder to bury his dick to the base as it struggled to fit inside his new bitch’s throat. Tightening his grip on the head in his hands, he slammed his hips forward making sure every last inch was inside before he unloaded. The guttural roar that escaped James’ throat was nothing short of inhuman - something more akin to the primal roar of a lion reverberated throughout the room as shot after shot was sent directly down Dan’s throat. James didn’t even register Dan’s attempts to pull free, his mind too far lost in the nirvana of his orgasm. Nearly a minute had passed, and Dan could feel himself losing consciousness just as James’s seemingly endless load began to subside. With a wet glottal noise, James withdrew his dick - several strands of saliva and cum trailing behind it from Dan’s mouth. It had definitely grown while inside of Dan, as he eyed the tool that just wrecked his throat, noting just how much thicker and longer it looked than it had just a few minutes ago. “I think there’s gonna be some changes around here.” James’ spoke, his voice an even deeper growl as he slid his still semi-hard cock across Dan’s face, leaving a trail of cum and spit on his cheek. Dan swallowed hard as he stared up at the beast he’d created, a chill running through the core of his being as those words sunk in.

Chapter 35 The sun hung high in the cloudless sky as Brock made his way towards the Ironclad Trust Bank. His massive frame was barely concealed beneath an oversized sweater and baggy pants, a nondescript cap pulled low over his eyes. Despite his attempts at disguise, heads turned as he passed, whispers and murmurs following in his wake. "Jesus, look at the size of him," a woman hissed to her friend, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination. "Those shoulders... is he wearing football pads under that sweater?" another man wondered aloud, craning his neck for a better look. As Brock approached the bank's ornate facade, a group of college students nudged each other, giggling and pointing discreetly. "Check out that bulge," one of them whispered, her cheeks flushing. "It's like he's smuggling a python in those pants." "Forget the bulge, did you see his chest?" her friend replied. "I swear those pecs were bouncing with each step. It's like two watermelons stuffed under there." A young woman waiting in line for the ATM nearly dropped her phone as Brock passed. "Oh my god," she breathed, her eyes following his every move. "That face... it's like he stepped out of a magazine. Even with that cap, you can tell he's gorgeous." "Handsome doesn't even begin to cover it," her companion agreed, fanning herself dramatically. "It's unfair for someone to be that muscular and that good-looking. Save some for the rest of us, right?" Brock's enhanced hearing picked up every comment, every whispered observation. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to maintain his purposeful stride. Now wasn't the time to draw attention to himself, no matter how futile his attempts at anonymity seemed to be. An elderly man, leaning on his cane, shook his head in wonder as Brock passed. "In my day, men didn't come that big or that pretty," he muttered to himself. "What are they feeding kids these days?" As Brock reached for the bank's revolving door, a businessman in a crisp suit did a double-take, nearly dropping his briefcase. "Good lord," he breathed. "It's like a Greek god decided to go incognito. Badly. That jawline could cut glass." A teller, momentarily distracted from her work, leaned over to her colleague. "New customer at 2 o'clock," she whispered urgently. "Don't stare, but I swear he's the most handsome man I've ever seen in real life. And built like a brick house to boot." Ignoring the stares and comments, Brock stepped into the bank, his senses immediately on high alert. The air thrummed with an undercurrent of tension, invisible to normal humans but palpable to his heightened awareness. Something was off. "Where are the guards?" he muttered under his breath, noting the conspicuous absence of security personnel. Normally, a bank of this caliber would be crawling with armed men, their watchful eyes scanning for any hint of trouble. Today, the entrance stood unguarded, an open invitation to anyone with nefarious intent. Brock's suspicions were confirmed moments later. As he moved further into the bank, a high-pitched whine filled the air, followed by a sudden, deafening silence. Every electronic device in the vicinity went dark simultaneously - computers, security cameras, even the smartphones in people's hands. "EMP," Brock growled, his enhanced mind quickly assessing the situation. "Clever bastard." Before the confusion could settle, a thunderous crack split the air. Brock's head snapped towards the sound, his eyes narrowing as he spotted Marcus, shotgun raised towards the ceiling. Plaster rained down on the terrified bank patrons, who hit the floor in a chorus of screams and whimpers. "Nobody move!" Marcus bellowed, his voice echoing off the marble walls. "This is a robbery!" Brock's fists clenched at his sides, muscles rippling beneath his concealing clothes. Every fiber of his being screamed to intervene, to unleash his superhuman strength on this arrogant prick. But he held back, biding his time. This wasn't just about stopping a robbery - it was about revenge, about taking everything Marcus held dear. Marcus strode purposefully towards the bank manager, who cowered behind his desk. "The analog key," Marcus demanded, pressing the shotgun barrel against the man's temple. "Now." With trembling hands, the manager produced an old-fashioned key from a hidden compartment in his desk. Marcus snatched it, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. "Smart man," he sneered, before turning towards the vault. "Anyone tries to be a hero, and I start blowing holes in people. Got it?" The room was silent save for muffled sobs and the heavy tread of Marcus's boots as he approached the vault. Brock watched, his enhanced vision picking up every detail - the sweat beading on Marcus's brow, the slight tremor in his hands as he inserted the key. With a groan of protesting metal, the first vault door swung open. Marcus stepped inside, his eyes gleaming with avarice. Brock saw his chance. Moving with a speed that belied his size, Brock crossed the room in a blur. He slipped through the first vault door just as it began to swing shut, the heavy metal slamming closed behind him with a resounding boom. Marcus whirled, his eyes widening in shock as he registered Brock's presence. "What the fuck? Who are you?" Brock said nothing, his cap still obscuring his features. He advanced slowly, relishing the fear that began to creep into Marcus's expression. "Stay back!" Marcus shouted, raising the shotgun. But his hands were shaking, his bravado crumbling in the face of this unexpected development. Brock's lips curled into a cruel smile beneath the shadow of his cap. He took another step forward. Panicking, Marcus turned and fled deeper into the vault. He reached the second security door, fumbling with another key. Just as Brock's hand was about to close on his shoulder, Marcus slipped through, slamming the door shut and engaging the lock. The sound of Marcus's ragged breathing echoed from behind the thick metal barrier. "You can't get in here!" he shouted, his voice muffled but triumphant. "This door's unbreakable. You're trapped out there, asshole!" Brock stood motionless, staring at the vault door. On the other side lay Marcus, and beyond him, the gold that had driven this ill-conceived heist. Sarah waited outside in a getaway car, blissfully unaware of how spectacularly her plan was unraveling. A low chuckle rumbled in Brock's chest, growing into a full-throated laugh that reverberated off the vault walls. Marcus might think he was safe behind that "unbreakable" door, but he had no idea of the force he was dealing with. No idea of the reckoning that awaited him. "Oh, Marcus," Brock murmured, his voice too low to be heard through the door. "You have no idea what's coming for you. " The bank fell into an eerie silence, the absence of alarms or sirens creating a surreal atmosphere. Outside, Sarah waited in ignorant anticipation, while inside, two men stood separated by a vault door - one trembling with fear, the other pulsing with barely contained power and the promise of vengeance. As the echo of Marcus's panicked breathing faded, Brock’s eyes darted around the first chamber of the vault, landing on a small door marked "Maintenance." A cruel smile played across his lips. With purposeful strides, Brock approached the closet, ripping the door off its hinges with casual ease. Inside, he found what he was looking for - a massive sledgehammer and a sturdy crowbar. He hefted them, feeling their weight, imagining the destruction they could wreak in his enhanced hands. Before approaching the second vault door, Brock pulled a face mask from his pocket, securing it over his features. No need to reveal his identity just yet. "Time to make an entrance," he muttered, his voice muffled by the mask. Brock squared up to the "unbreakable" door, muscles coiling beneath his concealing clothes. With a roar that shook dust from the ceiling, he swung the sledgehammer. The impact reverberated through the vault, leaving a sizable dent in the metal. Outside, the bank patrons and staff gasped in collective shock. Through the small window in the first vault door, they could see glimpses of Brock's assault on the second barrier. "My God," the bank manager whispered, his eyes wide with disbelief. "That's three inches of reinforced steel. It's impossible..." But Brock was redefining impossible with each thunderous blow. The sledgehammer rose and fell in a brutal rhythm, each impact more devastating than the last. Sweat began to soak through his sweater, the fabric clinging to his rippling muscles. "He's not human," a security guard muttered, watching in awe as Brock switched to the crowbar, prying at the weakened sections of the door. "No one's that strong. It's not possible." Minutes ticked by, filled with the cacophony of Brock's relentless assault. The door, designed to withstand explosives and cutting torches, began to buckle under the onslaught of raw, superhuman strength. Finally, with a screech of protesting metal, the door gave way. Brock stood in the opening, silhouetted like an avenging angel, the destroyed barrier a testament to his incredible power. As he stepped into the second chamber, Brock reached up and removed his mask. His eyes locked onto Marcus, who stood frozen in terror, the stolen gold forgotten at his feet. Marcus's jaw dropped, his face a mask of shock and fear. "B-Brock?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is that... is that you?" Brock said nothing, allowing Marcus to take in the full impact of his transformation. Even hunched slightly to fit through the door, Brock's massively muscled frame radiated power. His face, more handsome and youthful than ever, was set in a grim expression of determination. "What... what happened to you?" Marcus managed, his eyes darting frantically over Brock's enhanced physique. "You're... you're huge. And your face... you look younger. How is this possible?" "Hello, Marcus," Brock finally spoke, his voice deeper and more resonant than Marcus remembered. "Surprised to see me? We have some unfinished business to discuss." Marcus stumbled backward, his eyes wide with terror and disbelief. "B-Brock? What... what happened to you? You're... you're..." "Godlike?" Brock finished for him, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "That's right, Marcus. I've evolved beyond your pathetic human limitations." With a sudden, violent motion, Brock grabbed the remnants of his tattered clothing and tore them away, revealing his naked, massively muscled form in all its glory. Marcus gasped, his back pressed against the vault wall, unable to tear his gaze away from the living Adonis before him. Brock's muscles rippled and flexed as he moved, each group more defined and impossibly large than Marcus thought possible. His chest heaved with each breath, two slabs of striated muscle that cast deep shadows beneath them. His abs were a work of art, eight distinct bricks of muscle leading down to a narrow waist and powerful hips. "Like what you see, Marcus?" Brock taunted, striking a most muscular pose that made every vein and fiber stand out in sharp relief. "This is what a real man looks like. Not that pathetic excuse for a body you're so proud of." Marcus's eyes darted frantically over Brock's physique, lingering on his face. The changes there were just as dramatic - Brock's jawline was sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced. His skin glowed with vitality, looking a decade younger than when Marcus had last seen him. "Your face," Marcus whispered, his voice trembling. "You look... you look like a fucking model. How?" Brock chuckled, the sound reverberating through his massive chest. "Jealous, Marcus? You should be. I'm perfection incarnate now. Every inch of me is superior to you in every way." He took a step forward, his massive cock swinging heavily between his legs. Marcus's eyes widened even further, if that was possible, at the sight of Brock's enhanced manhood. "And this," Brock growled, grabbing his cock with one hand, "this is a real man's tool. Makes yours look like a child's toy in comparison, doesn't it?" Marcus whimpered, pressing himself harder against the wall as if trying to melt into it. "Brock, please... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" "Didn't mean to what?" Brock cut him off, his voice sharp as a blade. "Didn't mean to fuck my girlfriend? Didn't mean to humiliate me? Well, Marcus, now it's my turn. And trust me, by the time I'm done with you, you'll wish you'd never laid eyes on Sarah." Brock's massive frame loomed over Marcus, a mountain of muscle and barely contained rage. The air in the vault crackled with tension, heavy with the scent of Brock's masculine musk and the promise of retribution. "Now," Brock said, his voice dropping to a menacing growl, "let's see how you measure up to a real man."

Chapter 11: Consequences He just makes me blink in curiosity when is not getting the kind of horny I expected him to be… “Son, I arranged something, and I hope you’ll listen closely.”, he rumbles. My ears twitch because this sounds a bit too serious to feel lustful about. “Okay?”, I plainly ask. “Robby, I… have spoken to the doctor and we got quite an argument about the… us of things.”, Jad continues but pauses mindfully. By his tone he indeed was upset – probably because I told the doctor about us. But he shakes it away. “He asked whether I am morally insane to fall in love with my own adopted son. I am 44 at last. Despite not fucking looking like it now anymore. I could be your gay husband by the optics!”, I hear confused, yet a bit in love with this mental image. “Anyway, Robby, I almost died when I came home. I was glad seeing you sleeping, which stopped the process. Your bare presence saved my life!”, dad connotes with a very serious tone. I guess I wasn’t wrong in any way. But my heart jumps because it could have been the last time. I hate the thought more than anyone could imagine - seeing him turn his back and flee away from me - it could have been the last time. “Son, I… obviously locked onto you. The doctor told me to take the serum again, but I am against it. I would cause fatal things, he said. But… I don’t care. I… want to risk sex with you. And I guarantee it will be painful. There will be no point of return, and I think I’ll get MASSIVE. If not today, it will end up that way the next time. Do you understand me?” I nod slowly. Why does he want to prepare me like this? Is he afraid to die? Has the doctor told him something else? I just have to ask: “Da-… Jad… What is the risk behind this?” His eyes stare honest at me. “This will be my ever vacation, Robby. The doctor will declare me unable to work as a giant is not able to work, you know. And it is only a matter of time, I am afraid. You will see what I experienced too, and it won’t be pretty. But I at least want to show you what I REALLY feel.” THIS sounds like a death-sentence to me. “I can’t have sex with this thought, Jad!”, I yelp to protest but he hugs me. He whispers: “Robby, what I just said was my greatest fear… but it is my greatest wish to die by the hand of my beloved. I guess I had my dad for 20 years without my mom only thanks to the meds. Well, until he perished to dust because it was too late somewhen…”, he rumbles. I see the pain in his eyes. The pure imagination of my dad dying that way is a horror! Jad suddenly locks my eyes, saying: “So, YOU are all I love and I want to live it through. And if I don’t die you WILL have a LOT to man to play with. Chances for the latter are great!” I can’t grasp it. But there he is: He REALLY WANTS this?! And to top it off, there is a bit more to the mystery because I asked the doctor about my grandfather. The doctor summarized things pretty well to spare the time. I guess he disliked sciolism when he started talking: “Well, he was the first known incident. He crushed his wife during sex to which she miraculously gave birth right after. Her demise followed just as oddly. The workaround to discourage sex for your grandfather was the most effective as we had no serum at that time. We know your grandfather raised your dad before he passed away due to missing his most beloved wife after your dad grew to an adult and were sad about his death.” I was shocked to hear my grandfather didn’t die because of a heart attack but rather because he killed his wife. He tries to kiss me, but I deny and push him back “I can’t do this.”, I mutter in awe. He accepts it for the moment, but I see his hopeful eyes. He asks softly: “Would you risk me growing to my true size? See what this curse actually is intended for? Aren’t you curious what daddy is capable of?” In his eyes there is a path to accension. Doesn’t he care about his life or is this the point a man strives for his true self – beyond what he knows? All because he had a near-death experience? I then realize THIS is the moment I have been fucking WAITING for … for WEEKS. But now I am staggering and struggling?! What will happen now if I say yes? Can my body take it? Will my lust kill him? What shall I do? I don’t know and stare at him – in his old desperation which I now finally understand. He interrupts me: “Son, why do you think I kept you out?” I blink because of the surprising question. It seems like all of my worries don’t seem important anymore – to him at least. His smile’s still warm and himboly – just like the day when I came out of the closet. Is he proud I am worry about him? I slowly shake my head. “Robby, do you know why I invited 16 lovers?”, he asks. My mind can’t decide what to do and even blocks out on answering. Dad keeps on asking: “Love, why do you think I showed you Tom?” I shake my head. “Because YOU wanted to TEACH me a lesson!”, I yell. But his calm warm and soft look doesn’t change in the slightest. He nods me to continue, what results in a clueless pause. I lose it. “I ALMOST KILLED YOU!”, I yell and almost cry. But Jad grabs my hand all of a sudden and pulls me on top of him. He doesn’t intend to kiss me, but the closeness creates calming intimacy. I can’t stop thinking though. “I am proud of you. You fear for me. But you don’t have to.” His face looks warm and lovingly up to my face. He shakes his head slowly regarding the lesson. I am not wrong but seemingly not right either. “I knew you would be afraid of me. I slowly wanted to teach you that you don’t have to fear me.”, he tenderly says. I shake my head. As if that was the point! I notice I thought out loud. He grins. “Oh boy, I thought you understood it!”, he rumbles in is MOST usual manner of teaching me. I hate it and I love it so stupidly. “I am a force in nature – not kissing anyone. But who did I kiss, huh? Do you think I would fuck you just the same like all those guys? KNOWING your body is FRAIL despite all these lovely swimmer muscles?” I blink confused. My dad would not be a total force of nature when drilling me?! I can’t believe THAT! Again, I thought out loud. Dad just laughs. He caresses my cheeks… “Oh boy, I know your body veeeeery well. I meant when I said I would almost rape you. I forgot how to control myself and was lucky those lusty fuckbuddies were willing to teach me to fuck a guy good. It was all for you. And you know I’d still protect you, don’t you?”, he whispers into my ears. He pulls me onto his chest. His dick is twitching as a greeting but Jad, dad, daddy – all of his persona - doesn’t look sexually overfilled – at least not now. He glances proudly up to me. He really wants me to understand I would not feel pain but pleasure. Sweeping my fears away he offers a new kiss – soft and tender. I agree and he just slowly hugs me and embraces me. Even for an hour to show me we don’t HAVE to fuck nor would any of this would kill my dad… I then guess I was afraid he would “rape” me like the others. I guess the actual fear I had deep down he would not only grow but also kill me in the process because my body still was frail. I guess I am a coward…

Chapter 8: Dad – the shy I couldn’t believe what happened. Tom took it all and daddy had the most fun that night. And SHIT did he cum a lot. He came even three full times! First in the shower, then inside and outside that small guy. I assumed the third time was because he saw my face, the shackles and the sexual torture I could not overcome. FUCK, I was so wet because my daddy destroyed Tom’s hole by fucking a full hour. And thinking of it. DAMN, that small guy had stamina, ey! I ENVIED him. SERIOUSLY. I would have loved to know how it feels when a daddy needs to spill some more juice against the wall in front of them because of one’s ass… And after Tom went home, daddy invited me into the bathroom as I was a bit mad about the “kidnapping”. He wanted to cum again – just for me. And oh boy, me watching him jerk off and jerking off myself was enough to make a hole into the wall. Daddy was an animal and proofed it. To my surprise, I still wasn’t allowed to touch and was pushed back each time I tried. But the frustration and the lust mixed well, especially since knowing how one could make moan daddy so much with just his ass. Whilst my imagination went to even wilder adventures, I honestly had to admit to my real self I couldn’t do any of this. But my body – hooooh, it was on fucking fire – coming the fourth time myself too! Later, my freshly shaved (Tom wanted that – not me!) dad stunned me with the view of himself in the towel, when he rumbled: “Daddy is FINALLY depleted. Good job, naughty boy! Should punish you though! How that is the question… Hmmm… Off to bed now, boy, hehe!” The moment coming fully to my senses in this very present we stand there in the hall. Dad massages his neck while I stare up to him – begging for even more … His Olympia body truly is a package of mountains. Hard tasty nipples on his heaving chest during his breathing and glancing up to the ceiling make the view memorable. I first ask myself whether he was always that big and whether he had grown through this. But I know his stature still way too well. He not only maintained what he had. I’d rather say he lost some tension, despite his veins now pumping blood through all of his body. And shit, he’s my wet walking dream! Deviantart – swashmusc - https://www.deviantart.com/swashmusc/art/Shower-Room-Original-Morph-661463785 (23.09.2024) And then there is that meaningful glance at me. I should follow his command, but I know he would love some touches. He flexes his massive pecs for me. I fucking want to TOUCH him despite the domination. But a step closer makes him put a step back. He shakes his head softly because of my begging glance. This is all he could do for me. LUST, CRAVING and DESPERATION is in the room. The latter though – a double edged sword of fear and cluelessness how to make more out of it. Calm, himboly in love and somewhat satisfied eyes look at me. He then surprises me with another fact when he speaks: “Your… your mom and I had many of these moments, boy. The last time it took me months to look like the dad you know. Remember when I was away for half a year? That was the reason…” “Wait right there! Dad had a growth spurt when I was ten?!”, I think. I should have known but I stupidly am SO happy there was one less secret to torture me. And SHIT is this such another turn on now. Dad sees my trembling reactions despite me cumming with him when he was in the shower – not to mention the HUGE shots before. He chuckles and shakes his head: “Oh boy. I love my gay boy. But, do you still try wanting me despite knowing you can’t have me?” I couldn’t believe he denies his son who shouted out that he is fucking attracted. NOTHING of this changed my mind! I just then have to ask: “Can I … at LEAST … TOUCH you? Please?” He cluelessly looks at me. “Son, I’d rip your pants away and fuck you. I really don’t think I-”, he rumbles carefully. But I WANT this, I am DESPERATE for a fuck with this man. “PLEASE~?!”, I almost moan. ““What, sonny? I … FUCK, hhh… sorry, but I was boiling inside today. I didn’t know I am such a sex-starved man! But you REALLY made me WANT this. FUCK, can’t stop to think how your mother teased me and…”, he rumbles. But in the moment I notice something THICK throbbing under the towel and growing quickly, dad then suddenly vanishes into his room. I guess I should have known this man would even protect me from himself...

Chapter 47 - A Weekend to Remember Friday buzzed with excitement in Hadi's expansive factory-turned-warehouse mansion. The place was alive with energy as Malik, Hadi's former acquaintance from Paris, was spending the weekend with the tribe. With its high ceilings, large windows, and vast open spaces, the mansion offered a perfect blend of privacy and community, ideal for the group of bodybuilders who had made it their home. After a somewhat rough start, the tribe finished up the delicious breakfast prepared by Luis, the tribe’s talented chef, and the atmosphere began to relax. The combination of good food, old stories, and shared laughs broke the ice. Jacob found himself warming up to Malik, his initial unease fading as they all bonded over their shared love for bodybuilding and competition. As the tribe lounged by the pool, Manuel, the big construction boss, arrived with his muscular partner, Javier. Manuel, an older burly man with a rugged demeanor, exuded a calm confidence. He was every bit the image of a man who commanded respect on a construction site, yet his warm smile showed his softer side. Beside him, Javier, a bodybuilder and physical therapist, looked every bit the muscular athlete. His chiseled physique was a testament to his dedication to his craft, and his knowledge of the human body made him an invaluable asset to anyone serious about fitness. “Hola, amigos!” Manuel greeted, his voice booming across the pool area. “Thanks for inviting us over. We heard there’s a little workout going on later. Javier and I thought we’d join in, if that’s alright.” Big Ryan nodded with a grin. “Absolutely, Manuel. We’re always up for new muscle studs in our gym, right, Tribe?” Javier stepped forward, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you all can do,” he added with a playful wink. The group welcomed them warmly, eager to see how Javier’s expertise and Manuel’s strength would blend with their routines. As Manuel and Javier settled in, Malik continued to flirt with Jacob and Austin, their banter lighthearted yet charged with an undercurrent of attraction. Zane watched with an approving smile, enjoying the playful dynamics among the four of them in the pool. Not far from the pool, a deeper connection was forming between Big Ryan, Hadi, Manuel, and Javier. The four men, each exuding their own unique blend of strength and charisma, had quickly discovered a mutual attraction that went beyond the usual camaraderie of men outside of the tribe. As the conversation flowed, the chemistry between them became palpable, a current of energy that was impossible to ignore. "Ryan, you look like you could use a good massage," Javier suggested with a knowing smile, his gaze lingering on Ryan's hands that kept rubbing at his massive quads. "I've got some skills that might help with those aching muscles." Ryan's eyes lit up at the offer, a grin spreading across his face. "That sounds amazing, Javier. I could definitely use some relief after that demanding leg day we just had." Javier led Ryan to the outdoor massage table near the pool, where the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over them. Hadi and Manuel followed closely, their eyes fixed on Ryan's towering form as he dropped his board shorts and stretched out face-up and naked on the table. The sight of Ryan's giant muscular frame, glistening under the sun, sent a thrill through them both. As Javier found the massage oil near the station and began to work his hands over Ryan's monster quads, his strong fingers expertly kneading the dense muscle, Ryan let out a deep groan of satisfaction. Hadi and Manuel exchanged a glance, their eyes darkening with desire as they watched Javier manipulate Ryan's massive legs, his touch firm yet gentle, coaxing the tension from his muscles. Javier's hands moved skillfully over Ryan's thighs, finding knots and working them out with precision. Each touch seemed to send a ripple of pleasure through Ryan's body, causing his muscles to twitch and his huge hard cock to flex involuntarily. The air grew thick with a potent mix of testosterone and arousal as Javier’s hands moved higher, his touch becoming more intimate and deliberate. Hadi and Manuel watched intently, their own muscles tense with anticipation. The sight of Javier's strong hands on Ryan's powerful quads, combined with the low sounds of pleasure escaping Ryan's lips, was enough to ignite a fire in both of them. They could see the effect Javier was having on Ryan, the way his muscles seemed to swell and grow under Javier's touch, his beautiful 9-inch missile of a cock throbbing hard, and it only fueled their own desire. Hadi's eyes flicked to Manuel, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I think we might need to take a turn after Big Ryan's done," he murmured, his voice low and suggestive. Manuel chuckled, nodding in agreement. "I was thinking the same thing, Hadi. I could use some of that magic myself." Both big men dropped their shorts and freed their throbbing uncut cocks. Using some of the oil from the nearby station, they slicked up each other’s poles as they watched the muscular Javier service the giant behemoth on the table. As Javier continued to work on Ryan, his hands moving expertly over the muscle-bound body beneath him, the tension in the air grew thicker, charged with a heady mix of strength and sensuality. Javier's hands slowly moved to Ryan's inner thighs, his touch gentle but firm. Ryan's breath hitched as Javier's fingers brushed against his full balls and rock-hard cock, and a deep, rumbling moan escaped his lips. Hadi and Manuel watched, transfixed, as Javier's hands continued to move, their touch becoming more deliberate and intimate. Javier leaned in close, his breath hot against Ryan's ear. "Just relax, Ryan," he whispered, his voice low and soothing. "Let me take care of you." Ryan's eyes fluttered closed, his body relaxing under Javier's expert touch. As Javier continued to work his hands over Ryan's body, the tension in the air grew thicker, charged with a potent mix of desire and arousal. Javier's right hand worked Ryan’s massive pecs teasing the thick pointed nipples as his left hand moved lower, his touch becoming more intimate as he gently stroked Ryan's growing erection, slowly teasing the 9-inch missile with a soft, light touch. Ryan let out a deep groan, his body arching under Javier's touch. Hadi and Manuel watched, their own arousal growing as they watched Javier work his magic and felt each other’s throbbing thick meat in their hands. Javier's hands moved faster, his touch became more firm and sure as he brought Ryan closer and closer to the edge, and then he stopped at the last second denying the full release. Both Hadi and Manuel followed this strategy and edged each other as well. Finally, Javier released his own trapped cock from his speedo and began to stroke both his and Ryan’s cock with a rapid fervor. Ryan was begging for release, “Don’t stop, let me shoot.” With a final, powerful stroke, Javier brought Ryan to climax, his body shuddering with pleasure as he let out a deep, guttural moan. Hadi and Manuel watched as the cum shot out of Ryan’s big cock onto his massive thick pecs, their own loads joining in coating the massive man with rope after rope of cum. Finally, Javier threw back his head and added his own tremendous load to the gasping muscular torso on the table. As Ryan lay on the massage table, his body still trembling with pleasure and dripping in cum, Javier leaned in close, his lips brushing against Ryan's ear. "I hope that helped, Sir," he whispered, his voice low and seductive. Ryan let out a low chuckle, his eyes fluttering open as he looked up at Javier. "More than you know," he replied, his voice husky with desire. Javier smiled, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at Ryan. "Good," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "Because there's plenty more where that came from, Sir." The younger muscle boys in the pool, sensing the shift in energy, had paused their game and looked over at the group by the massage table. Malik, ever observant, raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Looks like things are heating up over there," he remarked, his voice teasing. Austin, perched on Malik's massive shoulders, laughed. "Yeah, it does. But we can't let them have all the fun, can we?" As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the pool, Big Ryan's voice finally broke the spell. “Alright, Tribe, time for our Friday evening workout. Let’s hit the gym and get sweaty. Manuel, Javier, we’ve got a special workout planned, and we’d love for you to join us.” The younger muscle boys groaned, reluctant to leave their poolside games with Malik and Zane. They had been engaged in a heated match of chicken fighting, with Malik carrying Austin on his shoulders. Using their cunning and quickness, they managed to defeat the much larger and stronger team of Zane, who had Jacob on his shoulders, in a rapid comeback and tied the match at 2-2. “Come on, Ryan,” Jacob protested, still laughing from the last round. “Just one more game! We can’t leave it tied like this.” Ryan chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, one more. But then it’s gym time. We can’t skip our training just because guests are here.” Manuel and Javier watched with amused expressions as the tribe members splashed and strategized, the camaraderie and competitive spirit infectious. The scene was a perfect mix of fun and focus, embodying the unique blend of friendship and fitness that defined their tribe. “Looks like we’re in for a fun workout,” Javier said to Manuel, who nodded in agreement. “Definitely. This is going to be interesting,” Manuel replied, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. Zane called out, “You guys go ahead, we’ve got 1 more tiebreaker to determine the champions. And then Malik and I are going to take these young studs up on the roof and do some rough power fucking for our cardio this evening.” Both Jacob and Austin looked at each other with surprise and glee at being manhandled by the two big professional bodybuilders. It was a tight battle but in the end, Jacob’s overwhelming strength was too much for the smaller Austin to handle and he was shoved off unceremoniously into the deep end. “You boys head on up with some towels and get the terrace arranged properly and be in the all-fours position, ready for the ride of your lives. Malik and I are going to grab us all some smoothies and will be up in 10 minutes.” Zane ordered as they made their way out of the pool. Austin took off running for the back stairs and Jacob was right behind him as they raced up to the rooftop terrace. Malik chuckled at the unbridled youthful enthusiasm and also cast a lustful gaze at the mounds of perfect muscle ass that each young man possessed. Austin had a perfect shape that fit his smaller muscular frame, the type of ass that looked great taking a huge cock and making the dick look even bigger. Jacob was all beef, his ass was two ginormous globes of muscle that rose and fell as he ran. His ass looked like it could break your dick off if he squeezed it too tight. Most young bodybuilders had an overdominant muscle group, Jacob’s was no doubt that huge ass! In the kitchen, the naked pro bodybuilders pulled together the ingredients for their shakes and started the double power blenders. Zane turned and gave Malik a wink, “You can go hard on the Monkey, he’s used to that monstercock that Jacob has and can take your big dick all the way.” Zane said as he reached out and slowly stroked Malik’s throbbing 11-incher. “But the Gorilla, I’ll take him first and get him warmed up for you, he needs to go slow until he gets stretched out and loose. And after you’ve bred both those hot young asses, if you’ve still got one more in you, I’d love to take it, sexy.” Zane finished up as he leaned over and gave Malik a passionate kiss. On the rooftop, the muscle studs were in position as the men arrived. There was lube on the two side tables but the boys had already prepped each other's holes in advance wanting to please the big muscle men. Malik marveled at the sight on a starlit night as he straddled the beautiful ass of the Monkey, placing his large strong hands on either hip to hold him steady as Zane squirted lube on the 11-incher and stroked it all wet. Jacob had turned his head and gasped at the sight of contrast as the beautiful black skin touched his sexy boyfriend’s caramel skin. Malik did as instructed and dove deep until he felt his balls slap against Monkey’s, the head of his dick right at the tight second hole. Monkey threw his head back in pleasure and arched his back even more as Malik pulled all the way back until the head of his weapon was almost released before diving back again stimulating that prostate and sending the Monkey into an anal orgasm spasm. Malik picked up the pace and continued his deep ramming, there were very few men he had found who could handle his big dick and he was loving being able to fully release his passion. In the meantime, Zane had also entered the Gorilla’s huge ass and super tight hole. He knew from many previous experiences to take it slow in the beginning to let Jacob adjust and get comfortable and he waited for the signal before he began his slow strokes inside the huge globes of muscle. The two boys were in heaven being manhandled by the big pro bodybuilders and they instinctively reached out and held hands. The Monkey was losing his focus as wave after wave rolled over him from the increasing power fucking he was receiving from Malik. Malik was enthralled. It had been so long since he had totally let his body slam into a hot tight hole and he felt his big balls pulling up. He started to pause and regroup to delay the orgasm but he remembered he still had two more muscled asses to load up so he punched it in a higher gear. He lifted the monkey up into the air as he stood fucking this beautiful muscle stud as he floated being fully held by the muscleman. His grunts got louder and louder until Malik screamed out as his cum exploded into the beautiful young stud. Zane and Jacob were watching in awe as they continued their own fucking but clearly, the star of the show was the big powerful bull, Malik. Zane bent down and gave Jacob a kiss then slowly pulled out of the vice-like grip of his hole. He stood up and grabbed the still-spasming Monkey and wrapped him up in his 24-inch arms and held him close as the Monkey wrapped his arms and legs around the powerful Zane. He moved to the side where a blanket had been put out and slowly put the Monkey on his back while Zane’s massive weight covered him. Zane lifted his flexible ankles and the gaping hole was still visible with a little bit of Malik’s cum dripping out. Zane aimed his own thick cock into the waiting hole and shoved it down and held it. Monkey’s anal orgasms continued and Zane just held there enjoying the sensations as the spasming tunnel collapsed around his throbbing thick meat over and over. Meanwhile, Malik had positioned himself ready to enter the handsome Gorilla. He had re-greased his still-hard dick and ordered the big muscle stud to roll over on his back. He wanted the eye contact as he fucked this beautiful stud into oblivion. “Look into my eyes, Jacob, and keep looking until I say to stop,” Malik commanded as he lifted each thick leg and placed it over his super wide shoulders. He entered Jacob slowly and only halfway before pausing, he knew that was right where his p-spot should be and he slowly rocked his fat cockhead against the interior gland. Bingo! Malik thought as a gush of precum started flowing out of Jacob’s tremendous horsecock onto his pecs. Malik had fucked bodybuilders before but never one with such a tight powerful ass and hung like a bull. He picked up Jacob’s giant cock and started stroking it with both hands, marveling at its heft and length as he picked up the pace of his movements now going deeper into the viselike grip of the Gorilla’s deep tunnel. Malik knew how to use his seductive green eyes to his advantage and he controlled and hypnotized the moaning Gorilla as he fought to keep his focus. Jacob was in heaven as he rolled over and over, the magnificent muscle beast had full control and Jacob was powerless to do anything but stare at those seductive green eyes set in the handsome ebony face. The rhythm was what did it. Jacob had never experienced this kind of rhythm of stimulation to his body ever before. It was incredible, it was relentless, it was powerful, and it was making him shoot rope after rope into Malik’s open mouth as Malik pointed the huge meat right at his face as he jerked off the giant cock. The spasms of Jacob’s ass as he cum ignited a maddening feeling within Malik as the giant muscle ass was too strong and the vise grip strangled his cock stopping him from stroking in and out, feeling only the pulsating grip of tightening and release over and over. His balls unloaded and he threw back his head in a deafening animalistic roar as he unloaded in this magnificent muscle stud. As Malik slowly returned to sanity from the unreal orgasm he felt the presence of many bodies surrounding him. He and Jacob broke their eye contact and looked around them. The huge men of the tribe had gathered around them, they had all rushed up to the rooftop deck from different areas of the compound as they heard the initial wales of Malik’s orgasm when he was fucking the Monkey thinking that someone was hurt or being attacked. When they saw the exquisite and erotic sight of the big pro bodybuilder now making love to the muscular gorilla they all, one-by-one began stroking their dicks. Ryan and Hadi, along with their guests Manuel and Javier, had come up from the main entrance of the living quarters in the center from the gym. Luis and Marco had come up from the kitchen entrance on the right, and Zane and Austin had stopped their own fucking and were captivated as well. Even the somewhat reclusive Julian with his new policeman boyfriend Sergeant Bennett arrived from the east end of the complex. Sergeant Bennett had just arrived on his motorcycle to pick up Julian for their date, when hearing the screams took off running with the former track star Julian following right behind him. Malik let out a stunning smile as the 10 men closed in and within minutes had completely saturated his and the Gorilla’s pumped muscular bodies with their big cum loads. The men let out a big whoop and high-fives as they came together as a band of men. Hadi proclaimed in his deep voice, “Welcome to the Tribe, Malik!” as the group laughed at the unplanned initiation ceremony. He then looked over at Julian and the massive leather man by his side, “And you two, where the fuck have you been hiding those weapons!” he proclaimed as the two studs were still slowly stroking their gigantic foot-long cocks. “I’m Sergeant Bennett and I have a license for carrying a concealed weapon.” He cracked mischievously as he reached out to shake everyone’s hand. The sexual moment passed and Luis called out, “Alright men, I’ve got a big spread ready downstairs that’s getting cold.” With that they all slowly regrouped and made their way down to the open dining area for a fantastic dinner. Sergeant Bennett and Julian foregoing their own dinner plans and joined the group in a rowdy evening of great food, great wine, and great men. Saturday Morning: An Unexpected Connection The next morning, the tribe gathered for a hearty breakfast in the mansion’s sprawling kitchen after their intense training session in the gym. Luis, who was taking the day off, had prepped a lavish spread the night before, ensuring everyone had plenty to fuel up on. Hadi and Austin took the lead in preparing the meal. The smell of freshly cooked bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and conversation. Julian, the house manager, had the weekend off and was spending it with his new man, Sergeant Bennett, while Marco, the housekeeper, busied himself with the morning chores. As the tribe ate, they discussed their plans for the day. “You know,” Zane said, setting his plate down, “Looks like it’s going to be a rainy day, I was thinking maybe we could all watch a movie marathon this afternoon in the media room. Something light and fun, maybe Avengers movies.” Austin perked up at the suggestion. “That sounds awesome! We haven’t done a movie marathon in ages.” Jacob nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’m in. What about you, Malik?” Malik, who had been savoring his breakfast, looked up with a grin. “Sounds good to me. It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper movie day.” Austin added, “What about you guys?” nodding to Ryan and Hadi. “We’ve got a couple of video call meetings in the office, but we can join you all after,” Ryan replied. With the plan set, the group finished their breakfast and headed up to the media room, a cozy space with plush seating, pillows, and blankets decorated like the interior of a Genie’s bottle and a massive screen perfect for movie marathons. As the first movie started, the room was filled with comfortable chatter and the occasional laugh at the on-screen antics. But as the movie progressed, the atmosphere shifted subtly. What began as a casual afternoon of relaxation turned into something more intimate. Jacob, seated next to Malik, felt the heat radiating off the larger man’s body, his heart racing as he sensed the sexual energy growing between them. Before long, the movie was all but forgotten. Zane, always the instigator, leaned over and whispered something in Malik’s ear, causing him to chuckle and nod. Taking the hint, Zane shifted closer to Austin, his arm wrapping around the smaller man’s shoulders. Jacob watched, his pulse quickening as Malik’s hand found his thigh, squeezing gently. He turned to look at Malik, their eyes locking in a moment of unspoken understanding. Without a word, Malik leaned in, capturing Jacob’s lips in a slow, passionate kiss. Across the room, Zane and Austin were already locked in a similar embrace, their bodies pressed close together. The media room, filled with the sounds of the movie, was now a backdrop to the intimate connection unfolding between the four men. Ryan and Hadi, who had been watching from the doorway, exchanged knowing glances. “Looks like they’re having their own kind of fun,” Ryan murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. Hadi nodded, his eyes softening as he watched the foursome. “Yeah, I think they’ve got things covered. Maybe we should give them some space.” Ryan agreed, and the two of them quietly slipped away, deciding to spend some much-needed quality time together elsewhere in the mansion. As the afternoon turned into evening, the foursome remained entangled, enjoying each other’s company and the newfound connection they shared. The muscular bodies intertwined in all sorts of combinations as they all enjoyed the feel and taste of the muscle surrounding them. They had barely noticed when Marco, the housekeeper, entered the room to tidy up. The petite, wiry young man tried to be discreet as he went about his duties, but it was impossible not to notice the intense atmosphere in the room. As he collected a few empty glasses, Marco’s eyes caught sight of Malik’s massive, sweaty sneakers left by the door. A curious look crossed his face, and he hesitated for a moment, glancing around to ensure no one was watching. With the foursome fully engrossed in each other, Marco bent down, lifting one of the sneakers to his nose and taking a quick, furtive sniff. He inhaled deeply, a look of satisfaction briefly crossing his features before he quickly picked up the other shoe and hurried out of the room, his heart racing at the thought of being caught. Back in the media room, the foursome finally began to untangle themselves, laughing softly at the playful chaos they had created. Malik, catching his breath, grinned at Jacob, Zane, and Austin. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m glad I came up here this weekend.” Jacob laughed, his cheeks flushed with happiness. “Yeah, this was definitely worth it.” Zane nodded, his big arms still wrapped around Malik and Jacob. “We’ve got a good thing going here. I’m glad we could all share this.” while the Monkey chilled lying on his huge chest. Austin snuggled closer to Zane, a content smile on his face. “Me too. I’m glad we’re all together.” As they settled back into the comfortable pillows, the movies still playing in the background, they knew that this was only the beginning. The weekend had brought them closer than ever, forging a bond that would carry them through whatever challenges lay ahead. As Malik prepared to leave the next day, the tribe knew that they would be seeing him again soon. There was no doubt about that.

Chapter 36 Brock reached into his discarded pants, retrieving a bottle of Viagra. He popped a pill, swallowing it dry. "Time to level the playing field, Marcus. Can't have performance issues ruining our little reunion." Marcus's eyes darted frantically, searching for an escape. Finding none, desperation took over. With a primal yell, he lunged at Brock, fists flying. His first punch connected with Brock's jaw, but it was like hitting a brick wall. Brock's head barely moved, a smirk playing on his lips. "That all you got, little man?" Undeterred, Marcus unleashed a flurry of blows, targeting Brock's abs, chest, and face. Each impact produced a dull thud, but Brock stood unmoved, his enhanced musculature absorbing the strikes like they were nothing more than gentle taps. "My turn," Brock growled, his massive hand shooting out to grab Marcus by the throat. He lifted the smaller man off his feet effortlessly, slamming him against the vault wall. Marcus kicked and thrashed, his feet dangling uselessly. In a last-ditch effort, he pulled a concealed knife from his boot, slashing wildly. The blade found purchase, slicing across Brock's thigh. Brock grunted, more in annoyance than pain. A thin line of blood appeared, but almost immediately began to clot. His enhanced healing factor kicking in, stemming the flow within seconds. "Nice try," Brock sneered, tightening his grip. "But it'll take more than a paper cut to stop me." With his free hand, Brock wrenched the knife from Marcus's grasp, tossing it aside. He then slammed Marcus to the ground, straddling him with his massive thighs, pinning the smaller man's arms above his head with one hand. Marcus bucked and writhed, trying to dislodge Brock, but it was like trying to move a mountain. Brock's weight and strength were overwhelming, leaving Marcus helpless beneath him. Brock loomed over Marcus, his enhanced muscles rippling with barely contained power. "Let's get a good look at what I'm working with here," he sneered, grabbing Marcus's shirt. With a single, violent motion, Brock tore the fabric away like it was tissue paper. Marcus yelped, trying to cover himself, but Brock was relentless. He shredded Marcus's pants, shoes, and finally his underwear, leaving him completely exposed. "Pathetic," Brock spat, his eyes roaming over Marcus's body with disdain. "You call those muscles? I've seen more definition on a twelve-year-old." Marcus tried to curl in on himself, shame burning through him. But Brock grabbed his arms, forcing them away from his body. "Let's compare, shall we?" he taunted, flexing his massive bicep next to Marcus's arm. The difference was staggering. "See that? That's what a real man looks like," Brock growled. His hand moved lower, grasping Marcus's flaccid penis roughly. "And this? This is what you call a cock? It's like a child's toy compared to mine." "Now, let's make sure you're ready for what's coming," Brock said, his voice dripping with malice. He reached into his discarded clothes again, producing a handful of Viagra pills. Marcus clamped his mouth shut, turning his head away. But Brock was relentless. He pinched Marcus's nose, cutting off his air supply. Eventually, gasping for breath, Marcus was forced to open his mouth. Brock shoved the pills in, his hand clamping over Marcus's mouth. "Swallow," he commanded. "Or I'll make you wish you had." Tears streaming down his face, Marcus complied, the pills sliding down his throat. Brock released his hold, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. "Good boy," Brock mocked. "Now the real fun begins." As the Viagra took effect, both men's cocks began to swell and harden. Brock's massive member rose to its full, intimidating size, while Marcus's more modest erection strained against his will. Brock reached into his discarded clothing, retrieving the syringe rod. Its needle glinted menacingly in the harsh vault lighting. "Time for your treatment, Marcus," Brock growled, his voice a mixture of anticipation and cruel delight. Marcus's eyes widened in terror as he realized Brock's intentions. "No, please," he begged, his voice cracking. "Don't do this. I'm sorry, I'll do anything, just please-" His pleas were cut short as Brock grabbed his cock roughly, positioning the syringe at the tip. With a sadistic grin, Brock began to insert the rod into Marcus's urethra. The pain was immediate and intense. Marcus screamed, his body convulsing as the metal penetrated his most sensitive area. Tears streamed down his face as the rod slid deeper, activating the muscle-breakdown nanobots. "Stop! Please stop!" Marcus wailed, his hands instinctively moving to pull out the intrusion. Brock's massive hand clamped down on Marcus's wrists, pinning them above his head. "Ah ah ah," he taunted. "Can't have you ruining the process. This stays in until I'm done with you." Marcus thrashed wildly, but it was futile. He was like a child in Brock's grasp. "No, please! I'm begging you!" he sobbed. "Stop! Oh god, please stop!" Marcus wailed, his body convulsing in agony. But Brock was merciless, pushing the rod deeper. "This is what you get for crossing me," he snarled. "Every bit of pain you feel, you've earned." Marcus sobbed, the pain radiating through his entire body. He could feel something changing, a strange sensation spreading from his groin outward. His muscles twitched and spasmed involuntarily. Satisfied that the rod was secure, Brock released Marcus's hands and reached for the high-tech cock ring. He slipped it over his enormous shaft, the device humming to life as it made contact with his skin. "Now for the main event," Brock sneered, positioning himself between Marcus's legs. Marcus's eyes widened in renewed terror as he felt Brock's cockhead pressing against his unprepared entrance. "No, no, no," he whimpered. "It's too big. You'll tear me apart!" Brock laughed, a sound devoid of mercy. "Should've thought of that before you fucked my girl, shouldn't you?" With a brutal thrust, Brock forced his way inside. Marcus's scream echoed off the vault walls, a sound of pure agony. The pain was indescribable, like being split in two by a burning rod of steel. "Fuck, you're tight," Brock grunted, pushing deeper. "Gonna enjoy breaking you in." Marcus clawed at the floor, his body trying desperately to escape the invasion. But Brock's weight and strength kept him pinned, helpless to do anything but endure. As Brock began to thrust in earnest, the cock ring hummed louder. Marcus could feel a strange draining sensation, as if his very essence was being sucked out through every point of contact with Brock's body. "What... what are you doing to me?" Marcus gasped between sobs. Brock's grin was feral, his eyes alight with cruel triumph. "I'm taking everything from you, Marcus. Your strength, your vitality, your very manhood. By the time I'm done, you'll be nothing but an empty husk." The thrusting continued, each movement sending waves of pain through Marcus's body. The syringe rod shifted with each thrust, intensifying the agony. Marcus's screams gradually weakened, his strength ebbing away as Brock's insidious devices did their work. Suddenly, Brock's massive cock began to twitch inside Marcus, the powerful contractions lifting Marcus's entire body off the ground. Each twitch was like a seismic event, Marcus's world reduced to nothing but pain and the overwhelming force of Brock's member. "Feel that, you pathetic worm?" Brock snarled, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "My cock's so strong it can lift your whole body. And there's nothing you can do about it." Marcus wailed in agony as Brock's twitching cock slammed him up and down repeatedly. The motion was violent, each impact sending shockwaves of pain through his abused body. It felt like being impaled on a jackhammer, every twitch threatening to tear him apart from the inside. "Please... stop..." Marcus sobbed, his voice barely a whisper. "It hurts... it hurts so much..." But Brock was lost in his own pleasure and growing power. His muscles seemed to swell further, feeding off the energy he was stealing from Marcus. His thrusts and twitches became more powerful, more frenzied, as he reveled in his increasing strength. "Can you feel it, Marcus?" Brock taunted, his voice thick with pleasure and malice. "Can you feel yourself becoming nothing? This is what true power feels like. This is what you tried to take from me." Brock's relentless assault continued, his enhanced body pumping with inhuman stamina. Sweat glistened on his bulging muscles as he pounded into Marcus with brutal force. Suddenly, Brock felt the familiar tightening in his balls. "Here it comes, you pathetic worm," Brock growled, his voice thick with cruel pleasure. "Take every drop of my superior seed." With a roar that shook dust from the vault ceiling, Brock came. His enhanced body produced an impossible amount of semen, flooding Marcus's insides. The pressure was so intense that cum began to leak out around Brock's massive shaft, forming a puddle on the floor. Marcus sobbed, feeling the hot fluid filling him. "Please... stop... it hurts so much," he whimpered, his voice weak and trembling. Brock laughed, a sound devoid of mercy. "Oh, it's not just my cum you're leaking, Marcus. Look at that puddle. See the red? That's your blood. And that smell? That's your own shit, you filthy animal." Marcus's eyes widened in horror as he registered the mix of fluids beneath him. The pain was excruciating, and the humiliation burned even hotter than the physical agony. "Oh god," he moaned, "what have you done to me?" Outside the vault, the bank patrons and staff huddled in terrified silence, Marcus's agonized cries echoing through the building. Some covered their ears, unable to bear the sounds of suffering. As Brock continued to thrust, he noticed the knife wound on his leg had completely healed, not even a scar remaining. "Look at that," he mused, admiring his flawless skin. "I really am invincible now." Marcus, in contrast, felt weaker by the second. He could actually see his muscles shrinking, his once-fit body becoming gaunt before his eyes. "What's happening to me?" he cried out, panic rising in his voice. "I'm... I'm disappearing!" Brock's grin was feral as he felt his own body swelling with stolen power. His muscles bulged impossibly larger, his cock growing even more massive inside Marcus. "That's right," he snarled. "I'm taking everything from you. Every ounce of strength, every fiber of muscle. You're going to be nothing when I'm done with you." With a grunt, Brock suddenly pulled out. The sudden emptiness was followed by a flood of fluids - cum, blood, and feces gushing from Marcus's abused hole. The stench was overpowering in the enclosed space of the vault. Marcus lay there, sobbing and shaking, his body a shell of its former self. But Brock wasn't finished. He grabbed Marcus by the hair, yanking him upright. "Open wide," he commanded. "Time to clean daddy's cock." Before Marcus could protest, Brock shoved his massive member into his mouth. The taste was revolting - a mix of cum, blood, and feces. Marcus gagged, his jaw stretched to its limit. In desperation, Marcus tried to bite down, but Brock's enhanced cock was like steel. The attempt only earned him a vicious slap across the face. "Nice try," Brock sneered. "But this cock is indestructible now. Unlike you." Brock began to fuck Marcus's mouth with the same brutality he'd shown to his ass. Marcus struggled to breathe, his airway blocked by Brock's enormous girth. Tears streamed down his face as he tasted his own waste mixed with Brock's seemingly endless supply of cum. "That's it, choke on it," Brock growled, his hips pistoning relentlessly. "This is what real power tastes like." Marcus's vision began to dim, his lungs burning for air. Just as he thought he might lose consciousness, Brock came again. The torrent of semen was too much to swallow, erupting from Marcus's nose and the corners of his mouth. With a satisfied grunt, Brock finally pulled out. Marcus collapsed, coughing and sputtering, cum leaking from his nostrils. He curled into a fetal position, his body racked with sobs. Brock stood over him, admiring his handiwork. Marcus, once a fit and muscular man, now looked like a concentration camp victim. His skin hung loosely on a frame that couldn't have weighed more than 60 kilograms. "Look at you," Brock taunted, flexing his newly enhanced muscles. "You're nothing now. How does it feel, Marcus? How does it feel to be weak, pathetic, destroyed?" Marcus could only whimper in response, too broken to form words. The man who had entered the bank as a confident robber was gone, replaced by a shattered husk of humanity. And Brock, now more godlike than ever, stood triumphant over his conquered foe. Brock stood over Marcus's crumpled form, his newly enhanced body pulsing with stolen vitality. Marcus lay there, a shell of his former self, whimpering softly as the last vestiges of his strength were drained away. "Time to wrap this up," Brock growled, reaching for the syringe rod still embedded in Marcus's penis. With a swift, merciless motion, Brock yanked the rod out. Marcus's scream was weak, a pale echo of his earlier cries. Blood trickled from the abused orifice, mixing with the tears and sweat on the vault floor. Brock crouched down, his massive frame dwarfing Marcus's now-emaciated body. "Remember this moment, Marcus," he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. "Remember how it feels to be nothing. To have everything taken from you. This is the price of your betrayal." Marcus could only whimper in response, his eyes glazed with pain and defeat. Satisfied with his vengeance, Brock retrieved his face mask from the discarded pile of clothes. He secured it over his features, concealing his identity once more. Then, he turned to the vault wall, hefting the sledgehammer he'd used earlier. With a roar that shook dust from the ceiling, Brock swung the hammer. The impact was thunderous, leaving a sizable dent in the reinforced concrete. He swung again and again, each blow more powerful than the last. The wall began to crumble, revealing the world outside. Sunlight streamed through the growing hole, illuminating Brock's godlike physique. With a final, devastating blow, he created an opening large enough to pass through. The cool afternoon air rushed in, carrying the sounds of a city unaware of the drama that had unfolded within the vault. Without a backward glance at Marcus, Brock stepped through the makeshift exit. He found himself on a narrow ledge, several stories above the bustling street below. The height would have been daunting to a normal man, but Brock felt only exhilaration. With the grace of an Olympic gymnast and the power of a superhuman, Brock launched himself from the ledge. He soared through the air, his enhanced muscles propelling him impossible distances. He landed on a neighboring rooftop with catlike agility, barely pausing before leaping to the next building. Below, pedestrians stopped in their tracks, mouths agape at the sight of a naked Adonis bounding across the city skyline. Smartphones were whipped out, cameras clicking furiously as people tried to capture evidence of this impossible spectacle. "Oh my god, is that a man?" "He's... he's naked!" "Look at those muscles! It's not human!" "Quick, get a video! No one will believe this!" Brock paid no heed to the commotion below. He reveled in the freedom of movement, in the raw power coursing through his veins. Each leap took him further from the scene of his revenge, closer to home. He vaulted over air conditioning units, sprinted across gravel rooftops, and swung from flagpoles with effortless grace. The city became a playground for his superhuman abilities, distance and obstacles meaningless in the face of his enhanced physique. Finally, Brock landed on the balcony of his house. He slipped inside, his enhanced senses immediately alerting him to Ollie's absence. The house was silent, save for the faint hum of electronics. His eyes scanned the room, landing on a note propped up on the coffee table. Brock picked it up, reading Ollie's familiar scrawl: "Gone to the library to study. Back in a few hours. Love you! - Ollie" Brock crumpled the note in his massive fist, a mix of emotions washing over him. Relief that Ollie wasn't here to witness his return, guilt over the acts he'd just committed, and a burning desire to share his newfound power with the man he loved. He moved to the bathroom, catching sight of himself in the full-length mirror. His reflection was startling - even more muscular than before, veins snaking across his skin like rivers of power. As the adrenaline of his escape faded, the reality of what he'd done began to sink in. He'd taken his revenge, yes, but at what cost? And how would he explain his even more dramatic transformation to Ollie? Brock braced himself against the sink, his mind racing with the implications of his actions. The world outside was undoubtedly buzzing with tales of the naked superman seen leaping across rooftops. Soon, there would be questions, investigations. As he stepped into the shower to wash away the evidence of his brutal revenge, Brock knew one thing for certain: life would never be the same again. For better or worse, he had crossed a line, and there was no going back.

Tumblr: jakelandry Brandon looked at his body in the mirror. The added flab was really starting to get to him. He’d gone out to celebrate his birthday with a couple of friends the night before and struck out every time. The only person who still seemed interested in his aging body was his gay friend. Sean was the only one who still looked at him like he was the same star wrestler he was in college. But as time went on it just was harder to keep the trim athletic physique he had in his early twenties. He’d work out on the occasion but nowhere near as hard as he did in college. Besides he barely had time for that in his life right now. “Just part of life,” he gripped the extra fat and gyrated it; adding extra sounds as he played with the fat. It brought a little smile to his face. He wasn’t going to let it get him down too much. “Just have to start making time,” he said to his reflection. “Starting with breakfast,” he walked into the kitchen to see a present left for him on the counter. ‘Happy birthday, love Sean.’ “Dork…” he grinned tearing at the brightly colored wrapping paper. His face dropped as he realized what it was. The smile on his face only faded for a second as he pulled out a white jockstrap, “kinky little fucker.” It was something he hadn’t worn for a long time. Not since his college days and that was only for sports. “Always thinking about himself…” he quipped. He tossed it on the table and went to the refrigerator. His belly grumbled looking for something to eat. There was almost nothing in his fridge. He closed the door wondering if he should go pick something up. But his mind went back to the jock strap. “Wouldn’t hurt to try it…” He picked it up. “Just like old times…” Brandon dropped his pajama bottoms and underwear. “I mean it is kind of nice…” One of his legs was already in one of the straps and he was pulling it up over his nude body. He walked over to the mirror to check himself out. Even with his belly he could see the faint muscle he’d had back then. It was like they never went away, just got covered up. He gave his reflection a little flex. “Still got it,” he complimented his pudgy body. A thought of the previous night went through his head. “Well Sean will still like it,” his mind drifted back to his gay friend. He’d known he was gay for a long time. Didn’t really bother him all that much. He pulled out his phone and opened the camera. “What am I doing?” he laughed fighting the urge to send Sean a photo. He glanced at the mirror again. For some reason he couldn’t shake that his body looked a little different. Giving himself another flex, the muscle looked bigger. He gave himself a skeptical look but his hand brushed up against his crotch. Something about the jock got him horny. His mind drifted back to his wrestling partners. His hand rubbed against his crotch again. He kept thinking about them changing in the locker room. A wave of pleasure shot through his body. “Oh fuck…” he leaned his body against the door. His penis was throbbing at the sensation. “Shit…” he groaned feeling the intense pleasure wash over the rest of his body. The fat he’d gained over the years disappearing. Muscle replaced the size. His large belly flattened out into firm abs hidden underneath muscular pecs. He growled at the pain as his fingers curled into the door frame. Every part of his body was filling out with muscle. Like he’d been working out since he’d graduated. Not just for sport but actual size and definition. His frame was huge and bulky. His arms big and round, shoulders wide, chest large, back defined and legs thick. “Ooooooo,” he moaned. His cock leaked into the jock strap. He could feel an intense pleasure building up inside him. He leaned forward against the door letting out another moan. “Oh fuck,” he uttered. He needed something wrapped around his dick. It was throbbing in the jock. Forcing his eyes open he could see it developing into something larger. The small bulge ballooned out completely filling the small cloth. “Oh God,” he just wanted to touch it. His pre was leaking through the fabric and dripping on the floor. His large toes curled into the floor as he tried to reposition the extra weight. He needed his hand to touch his dick. The large mitt that could easily lift just about any weight or hold Sean’s head against him. The thought of his doughy eyed friend staring up at him while his dick plunged all the way in his mouth… “Fuck!” he shouted as the vibration went through his system. Brandon’s entire body shook as the orgasm overcame his senses. Down to his core he could feel the pleasure. After several pulses he finally relaxed. He was actually panting. “Fuck…” he breathed. “That was one hell of a trip…” His eyes finally opened and saw the giant standing in the mirror. “Is that…” he couldn’t finish the sentence as he stared at his immaculate body. The oversized muscles were too much too handle. “God damn,” he cursed again. He heard the jingle of his phone in the other room. ‘Like your present?’ Sean had texted him. ‘Why don’t you come over and find out. I might not have much use for it.’

Author Note: This is the first time that I am doing a "Monster Transformation Muscle Growth' story, this is also will be my attempt at making a longer series, I hope you guys like it!", also sorry if that was somewhat rushed a bit Gills And Muscles Episode 1- Metamorphose. 10 years before... I was sitting at the dock, as I, as a 18 year old was asked by policemen about what happened with my friend J.P, he was missing when we were doing a college trip to some lake...I don't remember the name...the cops were asking so many questions, I stayed quiet, nodding positively or negatively depending on the question and sometimes i said i didnt know when they tried to inforce me a question, The case hasan't been solved and it archived...I miss my friend but i decided to move on. (OR DID YOU...) Years Later... "Woah... How beautiful!" - were the only words I could say when I finally saw the island in the middle of the almost clear blue sea, it was the first time I had taken a vacation since I went to college, unfortunately work didn't let me take many vacations and when I did they were too short to do any kind of trip ,A few hours later, the boat managed to board the dock... which seemed rustic to say the least, the beach looked beautiful - the sand was white and soft although it was quite hot due to the sun, the sea was clear and blended with the sky, there were lots of palm trees with their leaves displaying a vibrant green... besides me, there were other tourists on the boat, all going with their guides. My tour guide was a little late but he arrived and man... he was one hell of a hottie: Tall, beefy with biceps that were the size of mountains, rock-hard abs, huge chest that showed beneath his white tank-top and shorts that left little to the imagination, my body compared to him seemed small- I was very skinny, had short brown hair and while I was somewhat tall, due of not being that althetic I looked like more like a bean pole. I was obviously really horny...but I had to compose myself, after all I only met this person and not only that, but he was also a professional "Sorry I'm late, man...are you ready to explore Kowoko Island?" - he said with a laid back expression that made me even more excited "Y-yeah..." - I said shyly, trying not to look at his chest. Then, the handsome tour guide, whose name was Kahi, gave me a tour of the island, showing me the natural beauty of the island... until we arrived at a place full of wooden statues of giant, muscular men. "What are these?" - I asked curiously, Kahi looked at me with a serious expression, unusual for his usual expression up until that moment... these are the gods who protect the island, legends say that people who enter here can receive curses if they are not careful. "I-I see....well good thing, they aren't real"- i said, slightly chuckling, then Kahi looked at me with a angered expression, there was tinge of fear on his eyes but mostly anger, Kahi then walked away...leaving me alone with the statues. they were looking like they were alive and angered at me for some reason... "That must be my imagination"- I thought. Hours later... I'm in my hotel room, thinking about what happened earlier..."What's his thing with the statues...?", I decided to take a shower to clear my head and maybe apologize to him, but then a voice starts echoing on my head... "Pay for your sins, turn into a monster..."- the voice sounded like a man's, rough and deep... The voice echoed in my head, non stop...I ran into the shower...not even stripping my clothes out...I turn on the shower with all my clothes... I Just wanted to that Voice get out of my head...My body then started to feel real weird...my muscles starting pumping non stop....My arms start to sprout veins...turning larger and larger till they were Very big like bowling balls, My chest growing larger, My shirt feeling tight.. My skin turned scaly, like with fish scales and had greenish-white color... A fin sprouted out of my back ripping my shirt, My jaw extends and my teeth grows sharper....a light-producing organ starts to grow on my head, my abs become more defined, looking like huge beans , my eyes turned full-on white, a fish-like tail grows out of my butt, gills surge out of my neck, I become even more taller, my hands gained powerful claws. I roar in pain and arousal....and then the voice just stops.... "Fuuck...what happened...?", i said as my voice was lower than a rumble... I look at myself on the mirror and I saw...not me....i saw, instead a powerful, beefy sea monster...I look at myself, horryfied with my new apperance. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"- i screamed and broke the mirror acidentally as i punched it, in a somewhat involuntary reflex, "That can't be happenning, it's inpossible right?!', i tried to pinch myself, to convince myself that it was a dream... it wasan't, it was real...I turned into a monster.

Chapter 33 The alarm blared, piercing the tranquil morning air. Brock's eyes snapped open, his enhanced senses immediately alert. Another day, another charade at the office. He sighed, extricating himself from Ollie's sleeping form, his movements careful not to wake his partner. In the closet, he pulled out his work attire - a sweater so large it could double as a tent, paired with pants that seemed designed for a giant. As he slipped them on, the fabric strained against his muscular frame, threatening to tear at any sudden movement. The sweater, despite its size, clung to his chest, the massive pecs underneath creating an unmistakable shelf-like protrusion. "Looking good," Ollie mumbled sleepily from the bed, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Brock grimaced at his reflection. "I look like I'm wearing a deflated hot air balloon. And this sweater does nothing to hide my chest." He adjusted himself, trying to minimize the obvious bulge in his pants. Even soft, his enhanced member was a challenge to conceal. "This is going to be a long day," he muttered. The commute was an exercise in self-control. Every step, every movement had to be carefully measured to avoid bursting out of his clothes. He felt like a lion trying to pass as a housecat. People on the subway couldn't help but stare, their eyes drawn to his imposing figure despite the baggy clothes. At the office, heads turned as he entered. Whispers followed in his wake, the air thick with curiosity and a hint of arousal - his enhanced pheromones at work, even through layers of fabric. "Is that Brock?" "Holy shit, what happened to him in Switzerland?" "He looks... different. Bigger. And his face..." "Did you hear his voice? It's like liquid sex." His cubicle neighbor, Tom, wheeled his chair over, eyes wide with disbelief. "Brock! Man, you gotta tell me your secret. What kind of Swiss chocolate were you eating? And what's with the voice? You sound like you gargled with gravel and honey!" Brock forced a laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest like distant thunder. "Just a lot of hiking and fresh air, Tom. Does wonders for the constitution. And the voice? Must be all that yodeling." Tom's eyes narrowed skeptically, roaming over Brock's concealed physique. "Hiking? Come on, man. You look like you bench-pressed the Matterhorn. Let me feel those guns!" He reached for Brock's arm, but Brock deftly maneuvered away. "Sorry, Tom. I, uh... I have a skin condition. Very sensitive to touch." "At least take off that sweater, then! It's like 80 degrees in here. And how are you hiding that chest? It looks like you've got two watermelons under there!" Brock shook his head, sweat beading on his brow. "Can't. Doctor's orders. Gotta keep my core temperature up." Tom leaned back, eyeing Brock suspiciously. "You're a mystery wrapped in an enigma, Brock. But whatever you're doing, it's working. You look ten years younger, and half the office is swooning over you. And don't think I didn't notice that bulge, my man. Switzerland did you good all over, huh?" As if on cue, Jessica from accounting walked by, her eyes lingering on Brock's face, then dropping to his chest, and finally, almost involuntarily, to his crotch. "Welcome back, Brock. Switzerland clearly agreed with you. Your... everything... looks great." Brock nodded politely, acutely aware of how his enhanced pheromones were affecting those around him. Even through layers of fabric, his masculine aura seemed to permeate the air. "Thanks, Jessica. The Swiss air does wonders." Tom whistled low as Jessica walked away, her backward glance unmistakable. "Man, Sarah is one lucky lady. How's she handling the new you? Bet she can't keep her hands off that new body, eh?" The name hit Brock like a punch to the gut. Images of Sarah with Marcus flashed through his mind, igniting a fire in his veins. He gripped the edge of his desk, the metal groaning under his fingers. "We, uh... we're not together anymore," Brock managed through gritted teeth, his deepened voice adding a gravitas to the statement that made Tom flinch. Tom's eyes widened. "Shit, man. I'm sorry. I had no idea. But hey, with your new look, that voice, and... well, everything... you'll have no trouble finding someone new. Hell, half the office is already plotting how to ask you out." If only you knew, Brock thought, his mind drifting to Ollie waiting at home. The day dragged on, a constant battle of deflection and restraint. Every compliment, every curious glance was a reminder of the secret he carried. His enhanced body, a miracle of science and cosmic chance, felt like a burden in this mundane setting. He caught his reflection in a window - even with the baggy clothes, there was no hiding the chiseled jawline, the more pronounced cheekbones, the overall youthful glow of his skin. His eyes seemed to sparkle with an inner light, drawing people in despite themselves. By the time he left the office, Brock felt drained. Not physically - his enhanced stamina made that nearly impossible - but mentally. The constant vigilance, the lies, the fear of discovery... it was exhausting. Every step was a reminder of his changed body - the way his thighs brushed together, the bounce of his concealed pecs, the swing of his semi-hard cock that never seemed to fully soften. As he walked home, his thoughts turned to Ollie, to their plans, to the potential locked within his cells. The world of cubicles and water cooler gossip seemed trivial in comparison. Yet it was a necessary facade, a shield protecting the extraordinary reality of his existence. The sweater clung to him, damp with sweat and constricting his movements. But as the familiar sight of home came into view, Brock felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Behind those doors, he could be himself. No hiding, no pretending. He quickened his pace, eager to shed the disguise and embrace his true self once more. The ordinary world fell away with each step, and the extraordinary beckoned. His enhanced hearing picked up Ollie's heartbeat inside, a soothing rhythm that called him home. Brock burst through the door, his sweater already halfway over his head before it closed behind him. Ollie looked up from his laptop, a smile playing on his lips as he took in the sight of his partner's godlike physique being revealed inch by tantalizing inch. "Rough day at the office, big guy?" Ollie teased, setting his computer aside. Brock tossed the sweater onto the couch with a grunt, his chest heaving with a mix of relief and exasperation. "You have no idea. It's like working in a zoo, but I'm the main attraction." He slumped down next to Ollie, the couch groaning under his weight. "Tom practically begged to feel my biceps. I had to tell him I had a skin condition just to keep him from groping me." Ollie's eyebrows shot up, a flicker of jealousy in his eyes. "Tom? The one who's always bragging about his gym routine? I bet he was green with envy." Brock chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest like distant thunder. "Green doesn't even begin to cover it. And then there was Jessica from accounting. I swear, her eyes were glued to my crotch the entire time she was talking to me." He adjusted himself, his enhanced member straining against his pants even at half-mast. "I can't blame her, though. Even hidden, this thing is hard to ignore." Ollie's gaze dropped to Brock's bulge, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips. "I can attest to that. It's like trying to conceal a python in a sock." They both laughed, the tension of the day beginning to melt away in the comfort of each other's presence. Brock's stomach growled, a reminder of his enhanced metabolism's constant demands. "Sounds like it's time to feed the beast," Ollie said, patting Brock's rock-hard abs. "I'll get dinner started. You hit the shower and relax." Brock nodded gratefully, leaning in to plant a kiss on Ollie's forehead before heading to the bathroom. As he stripped down, he caught sight of himself in the mirror - a Herculean figure, all bulging muscles and flawless skin. The face that stared back at him was a sculptor's dream, chiseled jawline and high cheekbones, eyes sparkling with an inner light. "Still getting used to the new you?" Ollie asked from the doorway, a towel in his hand. Brock flexed, his biceps swelling to the size of bowling balls. "Every day, it feels more real. More... right. Like this is who I was always meant to be." Ollie's eyes roamed over Brock's body, drinking in every detail. "Well, I certainly can't complain about the view. Now get in there before I decide to join you and dinner burns." The shower was a welcome respite, the hot water soothing Brock's muscles and washing away the stress of the day. He emerged feeling refreshed, a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. "Hey, Adonis," Ollie called from the kitchen. "Dinner's almost ready. But first... I have a request." Brock cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What did you have in mind?" Ollie held up a pair of blue speedos, a mischievous grin on his face. "I want to take some photos. For... personal use." Brock's laugh was deep and rich. "Personal use, huh? Well, who am I to deny my biggest fan?" He took the speedos, the fabric stretching to its limits as he slid them on. The bright red contrasted beautifully with his tanned skin, the material clinging to every curve and bulge. "Strike a pose, big guy," Ollie said, phone at the ready. Brock complied, flexing and posing like a seasoned bodybuilder. Each movement highlighted a different muscle group, his skin glistening under the lights. Ollie circled him, snapping photos from every angle, his breath growing more ragged with each click. "Fuck, Brock," he breathed, lowering the phone. "You're... you're unreal. Like a living statue." Brock grinned, relaxing his pose. "A statue that's starving. Let's eat." Dinner was a lively affair, Brock recounting the more humorous moments of his day between bites of perfectly grilled steak and heaping servings of vegetables. Ollie listened attentively, his foot playfully rubbing against Brock's leg under the table. After the dishes were cleared, Brock slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms, the soft fabric straining against his muscular legs. "So," he said, settling onto the couch. "How about a little Mortal Kombat before bed?" Ollie grinned, tossing Brock a controller. "You're on. But don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're a superhuman now." As they played, Brock's enhanced reflexes and mental acuity quickly became apparent. His fingers danced across the buttons with lightning speed, his moves perfectly timed and executed. "Jesus, Brock," Ollie said, his character lying in a crumpled heap on the screen. "Is there anything that serum didn't improve?" Brock chuckled, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Well, it certainly didn't improve my modesty. But honestly, I think it just amplified what was already there. Unlocked my full potential, you know?" Ollie nodded, selecting a new character for the next round. "Speaking of potential... how do you think you measure up to these guys? In terms of muscle, looks, strength?" Brock paused the game, considering the question. "Well, let's see. Take Goro, for example. He's got the extra arms, sure. But in terms of sheer mass? I've got him beat. These guns are the real deal, not some CGI creation." He flexed his bicep, the muscle swelling to an impossible size. "And Johnny Cage? Please. That pretty boy wouldn't last a minute in a real fight. I've got the strength to back up these looks." Ollie's hand reached out, almost involuntarily, to touch Brock's arm. "What about Sub-Zero? He's pretty ripped." Brock snorted. "Sure, he's in good shape. But there's a difference between being fit and being... well, me. These muscles aren't just for show. I could crush him like a tin can." He unpaused the game, his character delivering a brutal combo that left Ollie's in a dazed heap. "As for looks... well, I don't like to brag, but I think I've got the whole roster beat. This face, this body... it's like I was designed by a team of horny scientists with a God complex." Ollie laughed, conceding the match. "Can't argue with that. You're like if every male character in this game was blended together and then dialed up to eleven." And as Ollie's character finally landed a winning blow, Brock couldn't help but smile. He might be an unparalleled specimen of physical perfection, but in the game of life, he knew he'd already won the greatest prize of all - the love and acceptance of the man beside him.