Leaderboard

This is an old story of mine. Reworked part one and added a second part. Enjoy. I moved in with Uncle Joe after Aunt Mary died to help around the house. He was in his 60s and wasn't used to looking after himself (male ego thing I guess). I'd never talked with him about my being gay, I didn't want to freak him out - he was such a redneck. He worked construction and had developed quite a good body - big hard muscles on his massive frame. He was about 6'3" and easily 300 lbs. His gut was big from too many beers, but it was hard as rock and you could see his jutting abs through the mat of dark hair that covered them. His face was weather-worn and rugged - thick eyebrows over his blue eyes, a graying, bristly, macho mustache over full lips and an unshaven chin. His chest was huge - thick muscular pecs that bunched as he moved, little puckers in the heavy muscle just above his nipples. His chest was hairy too, a little gray falling through the mats of curly brown. His hair was graying at the temples, and was thinning a bit, but was otherwise still there. He had really bushy sideburns and a perpetual 5 o'clock shadow. His arms fascinated me. They were big, thick and rock hard - not as defined as a bodybuilder's but really huge - about 28inches. Veins snaked over them into his furry forearms. I remember as a kid feeling the hairy on those forearms - strong and sinewy, leading to his massive hands. I always wanted to feel those big hairy hands holding me. Strong hands holding my hips close. Uncle Joe came home late one night and had obviously been drinking. He strode into the house and plunked onto the couch. "Hey, Mike." he slurred. "You know what I think?" "What, Uncle Joe?" I sighed. Since Mary had died, he went through this every now and then. "I think I'm fucking horny!" His breath smelled strong of beer. He sat there rubbing his crotch, the bulge getting bigger with each stroke. I'd only ever seen his cock soft before when we went swimming - a good 8 inches soft, I always wondered how big it would get. He stroked his cock in his pants and as he did, his muscles flexed and rippled under his shirt. Even though he was my uncle, I felt very hot looking at this huge muscular man rubbing his crotch. He started trying to unbutton his shirt but was unsuccessful. His large fingers fumbled. "Help me here, son," he said. "Help your uncle get his shirt off." My heart raced as I sat next to him and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his huge hairy pecs and his big hard gut. "Mmmmmm," he groaned as he continued to rub his crotch. "Do you think your Uncle's a hot guy?" I was taken aback. What should I say? "Yeah, I guess." I hoped that was the right answer. If he got pissed at me he'd easily pound me to a pulp. "You guess?! You guess?!" he said pulling his shirt over his wide shoulders. He stood up and looked down at me. "You know how many women want this body? Lots! When I walk in a bar, they all faint! They never seen a stud like me. Your aunt never knew that. Women like these big muscles." He raised his arms in a double biceps. The muscles bunched and peaked, rock hard and massive. "Wow, Joe - your arms are huge!" "Yeah! I got big fuckin' muscles, son! Real strong, too! Come here and feel my arm!" He stood there with his arms flexed and he stared at them as I ran my fingers over the corded biceps. My hands cupped the peak on his arm and he shut his eyes and groaned. "Mmmmmmm, that feels good. Feelin your Uncle's big muscles! You like your uncle Joe's big hard muscles, don't 'ya?" "Yeah! - you got really big muscles. Biggest around!" I found myself sounding like a little kid, impressed with his big uncle's hard body. My 7" cock was getting harder, and by the looks of it, his was getting huge! I let my hands roam over his thick shoulders feeling his traps and landing on his pecs. He lowered his hands and flexed the massive muscles rolling his hairy pecs under my hands. He threw his head back and I saw how big his bull neck was. My fingers ran through the hair on his chest and I brought my head towards his nipple. My tongue darted out and circled the hardening tit. "Mmmmmm," he groaned. "Yeah, baby. Lick that big hairy muscle!" Joe was obviously in some private fantasy, but i was getting off on it! "Lick your big uncle's tit!" My right hand cupped his pec and my left traveled over his hard stomach to his crotch. I ran my hand over the huge bulge in his pants. He bent his head down to my ear and whispered, "Better let him out, son." I undid his zipper and his hardening cock flopped out. I undid my own pants and let my boner out too. His cock was about 12 inches and not completely hard yet! It stuck straight out as it throbbed and pulsed with blood. His huge hairy muscles flexed as he stood there - his own son stroking his cock to increasing hardness! "Flex your big muscles for me, Uncle," I whispered in his ear. "Yeah! You like your big strong uncle's muscles, don't you, son?" He hit a most muscular pose and his traps rose like mountains beside his thick neck. His hairy chest mounded and striated thick and hard, his arms were corded and rock hard. My hands fell over his whole body, feeling his broad back and shoulders, his biceps, triceps and massive hairy forearms. I got on my knees and felt his thick hairy legs my hands sliding back to his hard calves. He stood there and his cock flexed in front of my face. "Suck your uncle's giant cock, son! Suck my muscle dick, boy!" he said, his eyes still closed. I licked the 12 inch shaft and tongued his hairy nuts. I reached around and grabbed his hard hairy butt. He flexed it tight in my hands. "Yeah, big muscle man! Women want this big man. You got him now. You're better than your aunt at this, son. Suck my big prick!" I sucked him in hard and he groaned. Then he reached down and grabbed me under my arms and lifted. In one swift move he brought me to his face, and thrust his tongue in my mouth. He was like an animal! His huge muscled arms held me close as he kissed me deep. I felt his biceps curled into bowling balls, and he tensed the huge muscles as I squeezed. His mustache rubbed my lips and cheeks as he kissed me hard. Then he shifted my weight and held me in one arm while he fisted my cock with his free hand! I groaned as he kissed me and stroked my swollen dick. I could feel myself getting close, but wanted to prolong this. "Let's go to the bedroom," I whispered. He carried me through the house his huge cock bobbing in front of him and took me to his room. He put me on the bed and his full weight was on top of me as his lips locked with mine and his huge pole pressed between my legs. "Gotta fuck that sweet ass!" He whispered. He grabbed some lube from the side table and shoved three fingers in me. I lubed his huge shaft as he fingered me and we continued necking. Then he pressed his huge dick at my hole and slowly worked it in. As soon as he was in me, he raised himself above me and looked straight into my eyes. "YEAH! You're takin your uncle's 13 inch dong, Son! All the way! Big muscle dick in you! Feel it!" He flexed his cock in my ass and I was heaven. His cock was so powerful it lifted me off the bed! He grabbed my dick and fisted me while his cock slid in and out slowly and with incredible rhythm. I felt the cum rushing into my cock and groaned load as I shot my hot load over my chest. Uncle Joe continued fucking me while I came, then he dropped my cock and sat back. His huge body towered over me and he raised his arms in a double biceps, kissing the thick muscle and fucking me. I reached up my hands running over his hairy pecs and his huge arms. With one strong thrust he grunted and I could feel his cock spewing into my guts. Load after load of his cum in my tight ass. We lay there and slept, his huge arms wrapped around me. Part 2 I woke up in the morning and Uncle Joe wasn't in the bed. I could smell bacon and eggs cooking. I pulled on some clothes and wandered downstairs. "Hey, Sport!" he said as I entered the kitchen. "You hungry?" He put a plate in front of me and I started eating. He leaned over my shoulder and gently kissed my neck and whispered "I was pretty drunk last night, but I remember everything." He put his elbow on the table and flexed his massive biceps. "You like that don't you?" he whispered in my ear. "Fuck, yesss," I whispered back and put my hnd on his huge hairy muscle. "You finish eating and meet downstairs. I gotta pump these muscles up." He left me and lumbered down to the basement. I ate as fast as I could and raced downstairs. I could hear the clanking of weights as I went down the stairs. When I got to the workout room, my eyes widened. There was my massive naked uncle on a weight bench curling what looked like at least 200lbs in one massive hand. His hairy pecs, bunched and flexed and he grunted with each curl. "Hey, sport!" he said, not stopping his workout. "Why don't you get naked? We're both guys here. And I like that slim little bod of yours." I got naked, and he watched me undressing, never stopping his reps. I moved over to him and felt the bicep getting more and more pumped. "YEAH!! Love you feeling that massive powerful arm!! I'm gonna pump up to 30" today! Lick my sweat, boy!" My cock was getting completely rock hard and I licked the sweat off his growing muscle. He groaned. "Gotta switch arms, baby!" He shifted the weight to his other bicep and performed rep after rep. I was all over his muscle now, feeling his monster hairy pecs and bowling ball shoulders and traps like mountains. I licked and kissed his bull neck and every part I could reach. I could see his cock growing as I felt his hairy mass. Finally, he put the weight down and stood up. "Measure my arms, boy! Measure your senior uncle's massive biceps! I grabbed a tape measure and wrapped it around his bicep. "31"! I exclaimed. "My God! You are so huge, Joe!" "YEAH!" he shouted in his deep booming voice. "HUGE AND POWERFUL!!! WORSHIP THIS MUSCLE!!" He went through pose after pose and I felt him all over. "CLIMB ON ME, BOY!" I grabbed his biceps and pulled myself up, climbing him like a moneybars. He pushed his monster hairy pecs out and sat on them, straddling my legs over his arms. He leaned forward and kissed me hard, moaning as I felt his shoulders. "I"M A FUCKING CAVEMAN! he shouted. "YOU LIKE THIS FUCKING CAVEMAN??!!" "You are more man than anyone around," I whispered in his ear. You are a giant muscle fuckstud!" He moaned again and the grabbed me with one huge hand and sat me on his bicep. "GONNA GIVE YOU A BICEP FUCK, BOY! WOMEN FUCKIN' CUM WHEN I DO THIS!!!" He sat me on the peak of his bicep and started flexing it over and over and I could feel him almost penetrating my ass with his muscle. "YEAH! HUGE STUD FUCKING HIS BOY!" I leaned in and kissed him moaning as I felt his bicep fucking my tight ass. I looked down and his cock was throbbing and flexing. "I WANNA FUCK THAT TIGHT PUSSY!!" He pulled me off his arm and held me in one massive hairy hand and sat me on the tip of his 13" rock hard cock. "GONNA BE REAL GENTLE!!! YOU NEED A MONSTER TO FUCK YOU GOOD!" He slowly started to penetrate me. Inch by solid inch I was being lowered onto his huge cock. The he let go of me and held my body up with just the incredible strength of his man muscle. "YEAH!!! MY COCK IS AS STRONG AS THE REST OF ME!!!" He hit a double bicep and I held on as he continued to fuck into me. I grabbed his pecs and he flexed them over and over. I pulled at the hair on his pecs He moaned "YEAH!!! PULL ON THAT HAIR!! YOU CAN'T HURT THIS MUSCLE MONSTER!!" He carried me around the room, spiked on his steel hard pole, and flexing his biceps and pecs. "I'm getting close, Joe!" I cried out. "Fuck me, giant muscle man!" He growled. "YEAH!! MUSCLE MAN IS GONNA MAKE YOU SHOOT!! DO IT BOY!!" I groaned and shot my load onto his hard abs. He continued fucking me for over an hour and I came at least 2 more times. "I CAN MAKE YOU CUM OVER AND OVER!!! WOMEN CUM 20 TIMES, WHEN THIS MONSTER IS STANDING FUCKING THEM WITH MY POWER COCK!!!" He throbbed and flexed his cock in my ass and was getting sweatier and turning red from all the intense flexing. Finally with one last flex of his cock he ROARED and hit a most muscular. I grabbed his traps. "YEAH!!! MONSTER'S GONNA SHOOT IN HIS BOY'S PUSSY!!! AAARRRGGGGHHH!!!!" He shot into me for over a minute. He sat back down on the weight bench, his rock hard cock still buried deep in my ass. He kissed me deep and long. I know there was going to be more...

I was making some AI images of a scenario I found especially hot. I started writing a caption for some of those images, but since I can't do succinct, it turned into a writing that I think is long enough to post as a story. Just noting, the images below are AI (obviously), but the story is not. ++++++++++++++++++ Hank huffed as he pumped up backstage. He had been hoping this would be his breakout year, a top 5 placing at the Mr. Galaxy Bodybuilding Competition, this biggest contest in the world. But this prep had been a disaster. Injuries, illness, bad compounds, and more had taken it's toll in the preceding weeks and days. Still enormous compared to the average person, but looking around at the other mass monsters also pumping up, it was clear he was outclassed here. His muscles were flat, he was holding water and pockets of fat, in bodybuilding terms...he looked like shit. And is if it couldn't get any worse...his coach was running late with his tanner. Flat, holding water and pale, Hank considered throwing in the towel right there before even stepping on stage. Suddenly his coach ran in. "Sorry Hank, the tanner just came in the mail from Thailand, it's something new I wanted to try, it almost didn't get here in time". With minutes to spare, they painted on the deep, dark tan to his body. Hank noticed how as it went on it seemed to calm him. It tingled in his muscles, almost feeling like his muscles were being massaged and rubbed. He could practically feel new blood flowing into his muscles. It felt good. It seemed to give Hank new energy. As he posed and flexed on stage his body came alive. His once flat, deflated muscles pumped up out of nowhere, pulsing with blood and energy. His water retention receded, leaving his body covered in veins and his abs cobbled and grainy. "Fuck yeah" Hank thought as he hit a double biceps pose...thinking it almost looked like his biceps were even bigger than he thought. To his surprise, his suddenly great body had propelled him into the finals, and in the pose down with the other finalists Hank really took charge. He stomped around the stage, flexing over and in front of the other big men. And Hank noticed...he was bigger and leaner than all of them! He might actually win this! His poser felt tighter than normal, but he wasn't getting an erection. He had competed often enough to be able to control his libido, but he felt bigger and more manly than ever "down there". His body tingled anew and he hit a most muscular, looking to the side at the supposed-favorite to win...a very tall world-famous mass monster. And then Hank looked closer and wondered...wait, was he as tall as him? And he definitely looked more muscular than him. After the posedown, to no one's surprise, Hank was awarded the trophy for Mr. Galaxy, a title reserved for being the biggest, best bodybuilder in the world. Hank held the trophy high and roared...and then with a wave of dizziness...he GREW. The crowd gasped. He competitors on stage stepped away. He was growing, not just more muscular...but TALLER. He rocketed up a couple of feet at first, a small surge, to what had to be about 8 ft in height. Hank looked around...down, at the small men looking up at to him. "Well that was-" Suddenly, Hank began expanding at a magnificent rate. He grunted and groaned as tightness enveloped his body, but it felt oh so good, so powerful at the same time. 10 ft tall, then 15 ft, then 20 ft! Lights flashed constantly from frantic cameras documenting the scene. The other competitors stepped back, looking nervous and stunned. Hank opened his eyes as the ground seemed to fall away from him. He grinned, quickly realizing his power and size. His muscles continuing to pump up even more proportionally to his ever growing height. With a deafening roar he flexed a titanic biceps, a muscle that to him looked to be well over 25 inches in size with a split peak that you could put a hot dog in. At 30 ft, the roar from the muscleman set reality in for the some in the crowd. Some people began to nervously and quickly exit the arena, as he surged wider and taller. Others, those who were entranced with the handsome...sexy...Herculean giant bodybuilder with the overstuffed posers stayed put, eager to see more of the growing muscle stud. Soon though, once Hank hit 75 ft of colossal tan glistening brawn, it became clear to every one and Hank himself...he was nowhere near done growing. Hank looked around and up as the walls and ceiling of the arena grew closer. The once cavernous arena now compacting in towards him. A couple of awestruck bodybuilders stood near his feet, just ankle high to him, looking so tiny. So weak. So feeble. These tiny guys where once his competition? Hank laughed to himself. That just made him feel even BIGGER and MORE POWERFUL. A feeling that made his overstuffed posers even tighter, as Hank could no longer hold back the arousal of being HUGE. Of being a true MUSCLE GIANT. "You little men better get out of here. I'm becoming too much of a man for this little building," Hank boomed with a rumbling chuckle. He watched the tiny gerbil-sized men scurry away. Similarly, the people in the stands were now flooding out of the building. Hank looked up and with shock saw the rafters just over his head. "Fuck, I'm HUGE, I must be 100 ft tall now! "Every get out as fast you can!" he thundered. "I gonna have to break out of here soon, I don't want to hurt any of you runts!" Overall Hank was a good soul. He didn't want any of the tiny people to get hurt. He wanted every one to survive. After all, that's just more tiny people to admire his superiority over them. Hank turned to a section of the arena that had cleared out, now hunching over to fit under the rafters. It was time to show the world what a REAL MAN looks like. He crawled toward the wall, crushing the folding seats under his hands and feet. People stood outside the arena on the cement, most of whom had fled from the arena, but many of whom had been watching event on TV and social media. Suddenly the exterior wall bowed outward and slabs of contract and steel fell to the ground, narrowly missing a few lucky bodybuilding enthusiasts. Wisely, the people ran away from this portion of the wall to a supposed safe distance. After a few seconds of silence, suddenly a car-sized fist PLUNGED through wall, causing an explosion of building debris to rain down onto concrete at the base of the arena. A deep, rumbling chuckle could be heard as two giant thick hands pried the building open, making the hole bigger and bigger, destroying the side of the arena. Through the dust...HANK began to emerge. Murmurs, gasps and groans of fear, of awe...and of LUST, swept through the crowd as the biggest, most powerful, most muscular human in history crawled through the gap in the massive building. A true epic bodybuilder of titanic proportions. His blemish free skin a dark shiny tan from the contest. At his size so much beautiful skin, pulled tight across mountainous striated muscles. The people looked up his heavy calves...now high above them, making them feel so tiny and insignificant. They followed the legs up even HIGHER and saw the various separations and meaty masses of his quadriceps. More gasps erupted as they gazed upon a posing pouch sagging VERY heavily between his thighs. The strap of the pouch straining against the mass inside, the pouch pulled so low that the root of a VERY thick manhood could be seen. Like his muscles, even to Hank his cock felt massive. Proportionally, it felt like it was must be at least 8 thick inches completely soft! Instantly all the men felt their own junk shriveling, totally emasculated. As his enormous muscular legs stepped out into the outside world, Hank began to stand up, happy to be unrestrained by the ceiling of the pathetically small arena. His rows of perfect abs contracted. His pecs SURGED forward. To those who stood closely to him, at first they had no chance of seeing his angular face because his pecs hung so heavily over his abs, obscuring their view of the most ruggedly handsome bodybuilder, regardless of size, in the world. Hank stood up tall, fragments of the building's wall and roof raining off his back and shoulders as he pushed through the still-to-small gap, his head now rising into the blue sky. The tiny onlookers' mouths hung open as they took in his ridiculously pumped biceps and delts, so wide and broad it's not wonder he had to turn sideways to get out of the building. Hank elongated himself to the sky, rising higher...and higher...and HIGHER! To the tiny people outside, now even his big toe was taller than them! The more dimensionally inclined folks in the crowd estimated him to be around 200 ft tall! With a satisfied smirk, Hank stood tall and proud, gazing out over the city in front of him. He was so HUGE that for a moment he even forgot about the crowds of pathetically tiny people immediately below him. They were just so small they were easy to overlook. But they were his first witnesses and for that he would be forever grateful of them. He leaned forward, finally allowing his perfect masculine face to see and be seen by all the bug-sized people. "YOU KNOW, AFTER THE WINNER IS GIVEN HIS TROPHY, IT'S CUSTOMARY FOR THE CHAMPION TO GIVE A FEW MORE POSES TO THE CROWD FOR PHOTOS. SO WHIP OUT THOSE CAMERAS!" And with that Hank crunched into an epic most muscular. Veins the size of sewer pipes erupted over his muscles. Hank shifted into an abs and thighs pose. His giant feet making just a small shift to him, but the tiny people on the ground it sent many of them running to avoid being caught underneath his soles. To others on the ground, the movement of such MASS caused a gust of wind to blow over them. He stomped one leg down causing a tremor to unsettle the ground and causing his quadriceps to explode with muscular power. "AND FINALLY, LETS FINISH WITH THE GUN SHOW. BOOOOM!" Hank flexed both biceps that to him seemed around 30 muscular inches to compliment a chest that looked to be proportionally around 70 incredible inches around. At first the crowd stood frozen. Hank held the biceps flex for many seconds, straining and sweaty, basketball-ball sized droplets of sweat falling off him. The crowd was fixated on his biceps...on all of him really, but many had their eyes locked on this crotch. Hank looked down to his junk with a sheepish grin. He knew, and every one in the crowd also knew there is no way to contain such a colossal muscle cock, which was now plumping up even bigger. Hank cupped his pouch with one colossal hand, feeling the weight of his enlarged dick and balls. Now about 1/2 erect, he guessed to himself that he felt about 10 inches. He smirked as he wonder how big that would be to the tinies below him. While a few inches of the root of his megadick were now exposed, his trunks held on valiantly, still encasing most of his length and his uncut head, showing the most epic VPL ever imagined. No wonder his posing trunks felt so small, he's practically spilling out of them! At first Hank covered himself up with his enormous hands, but quicky realized...there was nothing he can do to hide it. And he shouldn't HAVE to hide it. He and everyone below quickly accept it as a privilege to get to see such perfect maleness. Satisfied, Hank places his hands on his hips, proudly letting his junk sag toward to the ground, and looks down a the crowd with a wry grin, Hank asked, "WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK?" Suddenly, the tiny crowd erupted in cheers! They loved him! This caused Hank to jovially laugh, his mega pecs bouncing, he salutes the tiny crowd to thank his admirers. He is the perfect giant, with a perfect muscular physique, and he knows it, and the crowd knows it. Hank looks out ahead at the taller buildings in the city center. It was time to show the rest of the world his superiority. "LOOK OUT LITTLE GUYS, I'M HEADING DOWNTOWN TO CELEBRATE." Hank took one step forward, his feet sinking slightly into the concrete, before suddenly stopping and standing up again, feelinh a bit of dizziness. "OH DAMN," he says. "YOU GUYS AREN'T GOING TO BELIEVE THIS, BUT I FEEL THAT TINGLING AGAIN!" Hank leans his head back in satisfaction and holds his tremendous thick arms out wide. He was growing again.

[9] I arrived at the empty gym. Guess Zell had it cleared out. I could hear him grunting somewhere and I headed in the direction. Looks like he is doing squats and man that was a sight to behold from behind. His legs were fuckin massive. It looked like his ass was about to split his shorts. He racked the weights and turned around. “SHIT TINY T” exclaimed Zell. That comment alone made me feel like I did the day before. All the gains made over the past several hours just felt like it never happened. “You've got fuckin huge in a short period of time.” I looked puzzled as Zell was talking. “All of the guys that suck me off didn't get close to your size until 3 or 4 days later when their growth started to slow down and then your size within a week. You may actually rival me in size Tiny.” Zell said all of that in a matter of fact tone but put a strong emphasis on the word Tiny. My mind was starting to spin at the potential possibilities and outcomes but before I got deep into those thoughts I asked. “So you're saying that I should expect to see changes occur for about a week?” Zell just nodded and before I could really think about what that would mean, Zell said “Take off those baggy ass sweatpants and let's hit legs to see if some strength actually accompanied that mass.” I started to take off the sweats to reveal the shorts. I caught a glimpse of Zell and his expression was of awe and envy. I think he realized instantly what was slowly coming to mind for me. If I'm this big now after 1 day and I had several more days to grow by the time this was done chances are now not only would I rival Zell in size but I may even dwarf him. I tried not to get excited by the thought but the head of my cock began to show through leg of my shorts. Zell acted like it wasn't a big deal but his body language said otherwise. As I began to walk to the squat rack, I felt like I did walking into the gym, big and confident. Loading a few plates onto the rack to begin, I could see that I was a couple of inches shorter than Zell and I was indeed almost as big as he was. I got into position and did a couple of warm up sets with ease. Then Zell loaded several more plates on for himself to get back at it. Each rep for him made his legs more defined than the last. Striations more pronounced, skin looking paper thin containing pounds of muscle full of just raw power. When he finished his set the Zell I remembered from our first encounter reappeared. Dominating and cocky as shit. “Well Tiny T, let's take a few plates off for your set.” As he purposefully flexed his legs with every movement. I got into position and replicated the movements I saw him do. He was standing behind me as I began to work. I was focused on proper form since this was the first time I tested this new body out like this. The first few reps were slow but eased up. Zell had an expression of curiosity and lust in his eyes but added more weight to the bar. When I finally struggled through a whole set he seemed pleased. “Looks like those new muscles aren't as strong as they look Tiny T.” I think he was happy to say that because the bar didn't have as much weight as it did for him but it was only 2 plates away. Plus the insane pump I had in my legs felt amazing and I think they even grew some more. I could only tell because my shorts felt significantly tighter than before. We then hit calves, hams, glutes, and quads with the same level of intensity. We had such a full pump that we damn near had to just shuffle our feet around the gym due to the intensity of the pump. Zell showed me a few posing tricks in the mirror which didn't move much because of the pump. He looked at my shorts and thought I was wearing posers and I laughed and said no but I really didn't pay them attention until now and they did ride a lot higher than when we started. But I guess we were both focused on different things. Zell then motioned for us to head to his office again for another “session”. We were both somewhat similarly dressed except he just had a tank and underwear on that he ripped off. My shorts were easy enough to rip off but he had to help me with my shirt. In doing so he said, “This is why you don't wear all that extra shit.” But when we were finally able to get everything off and we were both bare chested. I saw it in his eyes instantly. Fear and lust. Yeah, Zell was still taller than me and bigger than me but only by a hair. If what he said earlier was true and this is just my first day of growth. I'm going to be fucking massive and Zell knows it.

Chapter 60 One year later, Ollie sat in the medical school library, poring over his anatomy textbooks. His phone buzzed with a text from Brock: "Done with the lab. Blake and I are coming to pick you up. Love you " So much had changed in the past year. After extensive discussion, they'd decided to name Brock's doppelganger "Blake" - giving him his own identity rather than just being "the clone or the doppelganger" Through some careful hacking of government databases, Blake now officially existed on paper. Their cover story was simple but effective: long-lost twin brothers, separated by adoption as infants. It explained their identical appearance while adding a touch of dramatic backstory that people ate up. Few questioned it, especially given how different their physiques usually were - Brock maintaining his Instagram fitness model look while Blake presented as a world-class bodybuilder, his perfectly proportioned mass still within the realm of human possibility. The truth was far more complex. Brock had never known his biological parents, having been adopted as an infant himself. His adoptive parents had passed away years before he met Ollie, leaving him truly alone until now. The brothers had cultivated distinctly different looks to help distinguish themselves. Brock maintained a rugged, masculine appearance with his neatly trimmed full beard and natural body hair. His thick, powerful pecs created a deep cleavage line visible through his partially unbuttoned shirts, with light chest hair spilling over the edges tantalizingly. The dusting of hair across his sculpted chest, defined abs, legs, and pubes only enhanced his raw sex appeal. His dark hair was styled in a fashionable fade cut, shorter on the sides with textured length on top. Even in business casual attire, his massive chest strained the fabric of his fitted shirts, the open buttons revealing just enough of his hairy cleavage to draw appreciative glances. Blake, on the other hand, kept himself meticulously groomed - completely smooth body with all hair removed to better showcase his competitive bodybuilder mass, highlighting every cut and striation. His stubble beard was precisely maintained at the perfect length, and his hair was styled longer than Brock's, swept back in a modern undercut that emphasized his chiseled features. His tight tank tops left little to the imagination, the fabric straining across his massive pecs, his nipples and ten-pack abs clearly visible through the stretched material. Ollie gathered his books as he saw them approaching through the library windows. Even after a year, the sight still took his breath away - Brock in a fitted button-down with the top buttons open, revealing that tempting glimpse of chest hair, and Blake in a skin-tight tank that made his massive pecs, nipples, and abs protrude obscenely. Their story had become almost legendary around campus: the brilliant Dr. Steele and his recently discovered twin brother, reunited after decades apart. People ate up the heartwarming tale of separated siblings finding each other again. Only Ollie knew the amazing truth behind their identical faces and different bodies. Brock and Blake pulled up in their custom SUV - specially modified to accommodate their massive frames. As they stepped out to greet him, Ollie's heart raced at the contrasting sight: Brock in his partially unbuttoned shirt revealing that tempting trail of chest hair, Blake's smooth muscles straining against his tank top. "Hey baby," Brock rumbled, pulling Ollie into a deep kiss. Ollie's hand instinctively slipped into Brock's shirt, fingers threading through the soft hair covering his firm pecs. He could feel Brock's heart beating strong beneath the masculine dusting of hair. The contrast of soft hair and hard muscle never failed to excite him. "My turn," Blake grinned, claiming Ollie's lips next. Ollie's other hand traced the ridges of Blake's abs through his tight tank top, feeling each defined muscle beneath the thin fabric. The smooth, hairless skin radiated heat through the material. "Missed you both," Ollie breathed as they broke apart, his hands still exploring their contrasting textures - one hairy and rugged, one smooth and sculpted. The smooth, hard muscles provided such a different sensation from Brock's hairy chest. He reluctantly pulled away as they helped him into the SUV, noticing blueprints and building plans scattered across the backseat. As they drove toward Steele Laboratories, Blake's muscles rippled with each movement of the wheel. His tank top had ridden up slightly, exposing his shredded obliques. Next to him, Brock's chest hair peeked invitingly from his shirt, the deep valley between his pecs visible in the afternoon sun. "Something's been bothering me," Ollie said as they toured the facility. "Blake, you came from the future with all this knowledge. Why do we need to research everything from scratch?" Blake smiled. "Good question. The knowledge I brought back is like having the final answers without showing the work. We need to document every step, every failure, every breakthrough - create a legitimate paper trail." "Think of it like this," Brock added. "If we just suddenly revealed advanced alien-fighting technology, governments would ask questions. Where did it come from? How was it developed? We need verifiable research history." "Plus," Blake continued, "the time stream has a way of maintaining consistency. I only have the broad strokes - the successful endpoints. The exact path to get there? That's still being written." He pulled up some failed experimental results on a screen. "See these early attempts? They failed exactly as I remembered them failing. Each failure teaches us something crucial that will lead to success. We can't skip steps without risking the entire timeline." "It's like a cosmic peer review," Brock explained. "We're recreating the research properly, documenting everything, building the foundation that future-Blake will need to exist." "Ready to see what we've been working on?" Brock asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement. They drove to an industrial complex on the outskirts of town, arriving at a newly constructed facility bearing the "Steele Laboratories" logo. "This is where it all begins," Blake explained as they entered through biometric security. "Or rather, where it all began... will begin? Time travel makes tenses complicated." They walked through pristine white corridors, passing labs filled with cutting-edge equipment. Brock pointed out different sections: "Genetic engineering wing," he indicated. "We're reverse-engineering our own enhanced DNA to create reproducible results. Over there is temporal physics - working on controlled matter transmission through time. And that," he gestured to a sealed chamber, "is an early prototype of the merger machine." Blake's expression grew serious as they entered his private office. Satellite images and star charts covered one wall, centered on a particular region of space. "We have 15 years," he said gravely, pointing to a trajectory plotted in red. "The meteor that changed us? It contains artifacts of immense power. And we weren't the first to detect it." "The Collectors," Brock continued, pulling up holographic displays. "A ruthless alien race that scours the galaxy for powerful artifacts. They detected the meteor's impact and are already on their way." "They've destroyed entire civilizations to claim what they want," Blake added. "Earth's military wouldn't stand a chance against their technology. That's why we need to be ready." Ollie stared at the displays, the reality of their mission finally sinking in. "So all this..." he gestured to the facility around them, "is about preparing for an invasion?" "And ensuring the time loop closes properly," Brock nodded. "Everything that happened to us - my enhancement, Blake's creation, the merger - it all has to happen exactly right to give Earth a fighting chance." The lottery money was just the start," Blake explained. "We spent almost every penny of those winnings on this facility and initial research. Buying the land, constructing the labs, acquiring equipment - it drained most of our funds." Ollie leaned against a lab bench, his mind racing with possibilities. "Why don't we just steal back the meteor from the government and launch it into space? Maybe the aliens would follow it instead of coming here?" Brock shook his head grimly. "We considered that option. But even without the meteor, they're coming for Earth itself." "Earth caught their attention," Blake explained. "They've detected signs of our civilization - our technology, our development, our...uniqueness. The meteor just gave them a convenient excuse." "Besides," Brock added, "the government's completely failed with the meteor research. All that potential, and they can't even begin to understand what they have." He led them to a secured lab section, revealing schematics for sleek, sophisticated probes. "These launch in a few months. Powered by hydrogen fusion drives - technology that technically doesn't exist yet. They'll travel faster than anything humanity has built before." "How will they send data back from deep space?" Ollie asked, studying the designs. "Quantum entanglement communication arrays," Brock explained. "Real-time transmission regardless of distance. We'll be able to monitor the alien fleet's movements and intentions years before they arrive." "But how will we convince anyone to prepare when we can't reveal where this tech came from?" Ollie asked. Blake smiled. "That's where I come in. I'm running for Senate next year. We need someone with influence, someone who can guide military preparation without raising too many alarms. Once I'm in position, we'll introduce Brock's enhanced soldier serum." "As a senator on military oversight committees," Blake continued, "I'll have access to all their failed meteor research. We'll know exactly what dead ends they've hit, which will help validate our own 'discoveries' later." "It's a delicate balance," Brock explained. "The probes will give us intelligence. Blake's position will give us influence. And our research here will provide the edge humanity needs." Ollie sat heavily in a nearby chair. "You've mapped out every detail, haven't you?" "We have to," both brothers replied in unison. "The future of humanity depends on it."

Chapter 4 I stared after the closed door for what felt like eternity, my body lagging behind the whirlwind of my thoughts. The word echoed in my mind, his voice looping like a record stuck on a single note. A date. I finally moved, stepping back and sinking into the nearest chair, my legs giving out beneath me. He never mentioned anyone. I sat still, my vision unfocused as I forgot to blink. I felt like I was sinking, the world slipping away and leaving me stranded. A burning itch crept into my eyes. I rubbed them, but the irritation only intensified. I dug harder, desperate for relief until the stinging grew and spread. My hands stilled, the fear of doing more harm forcing me to stop. A shaky breath escaped me as tears formed at the corners of my eyes. Did I just lose him? The thought hit like a punch. I shot up, pacing the room in frantic, aimless circles. My hands clenched and unclenched, as if I could keep myself still. I'd never felt this strongly about anyone before. I'd never cried over anyone before. The intensity of it frightened me—the way he had such a hold on me. I felt so exposed, like someone had pried open every defensive barrier I had and ripped away at my insides. I went back and forth for at least five minutes, wondering what I could do to make the pang go away. I tried to ground myself with chores. My sheets were still damp with sweat, so I stripped the bed and threw them into the laundry pile. My discarded clothes joined the heap, and I loaded the washer. My mind scrambled for more tasks, anything to keep me moving. I should go shopping, I thought, looking at my overstuffed shirt. I was walking back an hour later, newly purchased clothing in hand. My panic had somewhat subsided, but as I looked around at the busy pedestrians rushing past me, I couldn't help but wonder who the mystery suitor might be. Some skinny tech bro from Saigon, I thought bitterly. Or a lanky tourist coming here for hiking. I groaned. What did they know about pleasing you? I could make you so much happier. My fists tightened again. What could they offer that I can't? I slowed my pace, looking down. They're probably smarter, for one, I thought, my hands going slack at my sides. They probably have dozens of hobbies and skills. Successful careers and future prospects. What do you have? Just a job that you hate. And weightlifting. What else? I slammed the door behind me as I arrived back. I dropped my bag on the floor and fished out my phone. From the outside, what I did next may have seemed petty, even vengeful. Truth be told, there was a bit of that. But I was also lost, and I was just looking for some comfort. I found Minh's contact and sent him a text. My place in 20 minutes. Bring the Castrol. — “Ah! Fuck me harder daddy!” Minh was bent over atop the kitchenette, one leg raised on the counter while the other grazed the floor. I was pistoning in and out of him with ferocious intent, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other kneading the soft skin of his bum. I looked at the wall where he had busted his load a few minutes earlier, watching the cum slowly trickle down the tile. But I didn't care if he already came. I needed to vent, and here was my outlet. “You're… even… bigger… than… I… remember,” he sputtered in between thrusts. “Fuck. Yes,” he squealed, eyes half-lidded. Normally I would have been thrilled at his words. But today, my expression was contorted into a permanent scowl, my lips pinched in irritation. I withdrew my hand from his ass. Smack. Minh gave a surprised yelp as he felt the stinging on his buttocks. Smack. Another yelp elicited as I spanked him again. He splayed his fingers on the wooden cabinet, pain and pleasure mingling into a singular staggering sensation. I looked at the big red imprint I left, the sight fueling me as I ratcheted up my pounding, channeling all my frustration on this man who was half my weight. The muscles in his rectum had already given up their resistance against the onslaught of my heavy battering ram, carving its way inside without mercy. His hole twitched incessantly around my dick, as if going haywire from the unrelenting wave of stimulation it was encountering. “Yeah? You think you can take it?” I hissed, my deep voice dripping with venom. I wrapped my arm around him, pressing him deeper into the counter. “Ungh,” he moaned, his fingers clutching my forearm for support, barely spanning halfway around its thick girth. The tendons flexed beneath his grip, taut and unyielding, as I held him firmly. Can your loverboy do this to you, Tam? I thought angrily, his image still lingering in the dark corners of my mind. I imagined him at dinner, laughing at his date's jokes, fingers brushing lightly as they shared a salad. I extracted myself halfway, before slamming into Minh with a powerful shove. His body lifted slightly from the impact as he let out a gurgled moan. See? This is how a real man fucks. The sounds of our bodies colliding reverberated throughout the room, punctuated intermittently by a strike on his plump flesh, each one cutting through the air like thunder in a storm. My lips twisted into a snarl as I continued barging into him, reducing him to a vessel that existed just for my pleasure. Every motion was dictated by a singular need to dominate and fuck. I grimaced as I felt my release build, and grabbed a hold of his hair, yanking his head back. “Is this what you wanted?” I spat. Minh's tongue was now lolling out of his mouth, making incomprehensible noises of gratification as he fought to stay conscious, not wanting to waste a moment of this sensory-overloading experience. My glutes were working in overdrive, flexing hard as I tried to maintain my composure, straining not to let loose too early. I didn't want this to end. But it was already too late. “Nghn… Augh…” I howled, smashing my fist against the cabinet and closing my eyes. I rolled my hip one last time, feeling the cockhead billow before bursting deep inside him. I felt my body shake, and my mind went blank. Minh stirred as he was filled with warmth, relishing in the feeling of the member that was pumping steadily into his body. I watched him convulse as he came for the second time that night, the climax even more intense than the last. I was lost in my own orgasm, delighted by the rush of endorphins as my cum sputtered back out, coating my shaft and balls. I stayed inside him for a minute longer, not wanting to let go of the elation. Glancing up, I saw a dent in the wooden panel where I struck it. Shit. Eventually, I pulled out, wincing as the length of my sensitive cock brushed against his sticky folds. Minh shivered and gave a high-pitched sigh, reacting to the sudden emptiness in his hole. His eyes fluttered, barely open. It didn't take long for normal emotions to come back to me. Jesus, I thought to myself, surveying my handiwork. I felt a mixture of pride and shame. “I think I'm… going to bed,” Minh murmured, his voice slurred with exhaustion. I stepped toward him, scooping his limp form into my arms, cradling his head against my shoulder. His legs dangled uselessly, having gone numb. Carefully, I laid him on the bed. He reached for a pillow, clutching it like a lover, his body wrapping instinctively around it. “You’re… a sex god,” he whispered, his lips barely moving. Seconds later, his breathing deepened, and the soft rhythm of his snores filled the room. I looked at his sleeping form, ravaged and spent, and only felt contempt. He looked so fulfilled, so unburdened by doubt and insecurity. I felt jealous. I was too antsy to rest, though I also felt tired. I opted for another shower instead. I stood under the scalding spray of the water as I scrubbed furiously at my skin. I thought about Minh, how I'd used and discarded him. How many times are you going to run from your emotions, Bastian? How long are you going to go on like this? I scrubbed harder. A couple of hours later, Minh had showered and was collecting his things. He had a waddle as he walked, like he'd finished a triathlon without any training. "Let me walk you home," I said, my voice almost apologetic. He shook his head with a tired smile. "I'll be fine. Just need a good night’s sleep and some Tylenol. I'll be good as new." "You sure? You said you walked here," I pressed. Minh smirked, leaning slightly against the chair for balance. "Not my first walk of shame," he teased. Then, stepping closer, he rested a hand on my chest, his expression shifting to something more tender. "Though tonight... was unlike anything else I've ever experienced. It was a gift." A pang of guilt clamped in my chest. I broke eye contact, staring at the floor instead. "About that," I said, hesitating. "I don't think we should keep doing this. I mean, us... seeing each other anymore." Minh took a step back, his hand slipping away. “Oh.” He lingered, the air suddenly feeling awkward. I'd never seen him so unsure of himself. “I thought tonight went pretty well.” “No, it was amazing—you were amazing,” I said, quickly correcting him. “It's just. It wouldn't be right. Not to him.” Minh scrunched his face, trying to decipher my words. “Not to who?” I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. “Not to Tam,” I admitted, finally meeting his gaze. My voice was quieter now. “I think I’m in love with him.” Minh blinked. He opened his mouth, then closed it, his expression cycling through disbelief, excitement, hurt, then resignation. “Oh,” he said again. “That would’ve been nice to know before you fucked me,” he continued, his voice sharp but not quite hostile. A bitter edge crept into his tone, laced with disappointment. “Tam and I, we have a code. We don’t play mind games like this against each other.” I nodded, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I know, I know. FUCK,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Just... could you keep this between us? Please.” My teeth grazed my bottom lip as I waited for his answer. Minh studied me, his eyes lingering as if he were weighing every word I’d said. Finally, he crossed his arms. “Alright,” he said slowly. “But let’s be clear, I’m doing this for him. He’s been having a good time this week, spending it with you. I don’t want this screwing things up for him.” My head shot up, my pulse quickening. “He said that to you?” Minh gave a small roll of his eyes. “He said you've been a good friend to him,” he muttered, turning toward the door. I nodded and trailed him to the exit. “Thank you,” I said, hoping he could feel my sincerity. He hesitated at the threshold, one hand on the doorknob. His eyes flickered toward me, his expression unreadable. “Don’t waste it,” he said, before pulling the door open. What lay beyond the threshold might as well have been my undoing. The universe seemed to mock me, airing my dirty laundry for the world to see without mercy. Tam stood there, key in hand, his posture freezing the moment his eyes met mine. Behind him, a stranger lingered, taller and solid-looking. Time seemed to stand still as the four of us silently took stock of the situation. My stomach dropped. Tam's gaze shifted, first to Minh, then to the disheveled state of the room behind us, his confusion settling into a dawning realization. My mind cycled through different explanations I could offer, none of which made any sense. As I breathed in, I caught a lingering scent in the still air. I'd forgotten to close the windows. There was no hiding what went on in there. Minh’s own eyes darted between Tam and me, a barely perceptible wince crossing his face. It was all there—the pieces falling neatly into place. The stranger was the first to break the silence. “Hiya, you must be Minh, the childhood friend,” he said, offering a handshake. His voice was mellow and rich, carrying the cadence of someone who was used to being listened to. Minh, clearly caught off guard, managed a tepid smile as he shook it. He introduced himself as Leon, his voice carrying a slow, relaxed pace that hinted at an American accent. He stood a few inches shorter than me, likely around six feet, with an athletic figure that suggested he took care of himself. His dark brown hair was long, neatly parted down the middle, and framed a narrow but angular face. A straight, sharp nose and pale lips gave him a hawkish appearance, while his dark, deep-set eyes sparkled with confidence. A black leather jacket hung snugly on his shoulders, the kind that seemed purposefully well-worn but was purchased new. His jeans were well fitted, indicating someone who didn’t skip on leg day. Then the stranger turned to me, his eyes briefly scanning my frame before he spoke. “And you must be the roommate,” he added, a bit taken aback as he took me in, and gave me his hand. I clasped it firmly, feeling the assertiveness in his grip. But I couldn’t help myself. My fingers tightened just a bit more, my arm tensing as I held it close. “Bastian,” I said, letting him go. His chuckle came out a little strained as he pulled back. “Hell of a grip you’ve got there,” he said, shaking his hand out subtly. “You, uh... hit the gym or something?” he asked, giving an uneasy laugh. It wasn’t just a joke—it was an acknowledgment. To an average person he might've seemed big. But I was bigger. Beneath the humor lingered a faint edge of deference. It was the type of thing smaller guys often did at the gym. Whether it was envy or admiration, I’d seen it before. A need to earn favor or respect from someone who had pushed their body to a place they could only ever dream of. “Something like that.” The silence re-emerged, unshakeable, like a tide that refused to stay out. Minh cleared his throat. “Well... I should get going,” he said, attempting a lighthearted note. He offered a small wave as he retreated toward the stairs. “See ya.” “Guess that's my cue, too,” Leon said, shifting his stance and zipping up his jacket. “Night, Tam.” He leaned in and gave Tam a peck on the lips. Tam closed his eyes and smiled as they separated. My hands went cold. It was like watching a train wreck. I couldn’t look away, no matter how much I wanted to. Leon then headed down the stairs, leaving just the two of us standing there idly. “You and Minh, huh?” he said, cocking an eyebrow. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, puffing my cheeks before letting the air out in a slow exhale. “Yup.” Tam’s lips twitched, his attempt at a straight face betrayed by the teasing glint in his eyes. “I see.” He followed in after me, dropping his wallet and keys on the counter. “You know, it wouldn’t have killed you to crack open a window,” he groaned, kicking his shoes off. He went to grab a glass of water and did a double take, his gaze snapping to the cabinet. “What the hell happened to that?” I looked at the splintered hole I had made. “Oh. Uh, yeah.” I scratched the back of my head. “Bastian, we’re leaving the hostel tomorrow. They’re sending someone up to inspect the room in the morning. You couldn’t have, I don’t know, punched a pillow or something?” I shrugged, mumbling an apology, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I stayed rooted in place, waiting for him to circle back to Minh. Waiting for the judgment I was sure was coming. But it didn’t. “Are you upset?” I asked, my voice quiet. He glanced back at the cabinet, grimacing in thought. “Well, we might be able to cover it up if we’re clever,” he said, half to himself. “Not about that,” I pressed. “About Minh and me.” He stopped for a moment, registering my question. “Honestly, it's not that surprising. Minh opens his legs wide open for every other guy, and you…" his tilted his head, clicking his tongue. “Well, you've not been exactly shy about your sexual exploits.” I nodded, trying to convince myself I understood, but something inside me felt uneasy. I should’ve been relieved. Everything had worked out so neatly. Tam and I were just friends, and Minh was his own person, perfectly capable of making his own choices about who he slept with. No harm, no foul. And yet, a grudging thought was gnawing at my brain. I wanted him to care more. I wanted it to bother him, seeing me with someone else. But it didn’t make sense that he would. He had his own relationship now, someone he clearly liked, someone he was choosing. But still, deep down, I hoped there was something—anything—within him that was falling for me like I was falling for him. “How was the date?” I asked, more out of politeness. “It was really nice!” He said, his tone drifting into a sing-song rhythm. “We met outside professor Dao's office—that's my thermodynamics professor—and he offered me a ride home on his bike.” He strolled toward the bathroom, pyjamas in hand, his voice trailing behind him. “And then, when he dropped me off, he suddenly asked me out! I was stunned. No idea how he even knew I was gay. Probably the rainbow bracelet.” I chuckled softly. “The bracelet does kind of give it away.” He started brushing his teeth, and I turned away. My limbs dragged as I walked, shuffling slowly into bed, desperate for the day to end. I was too tired to talk. I was too tired to think. I just wanted some peace. Without bothering to say goodnight, I let the weight of the day pull me under. Sleep found me quickly. --- We were all packed up by early morning. Tam was staying with Minh for the next couple of weeks while he searched for an apartment, and I was heading to a hotel farther out. After checking out, we stood in the reception area, preparing to say our goodbyes. Tam was balancing idly on his heels. "You know, this doesn’t mean we can’t still hang out as often." A small smile tugged at my lips. "I know." For a brief moment, we both stared at the ground, counting the seconds before this chapter in our adventure would close. “Well, Leon and I are going to play tennis this weekend. You should join us.” I stopped, the bittersweet scene interrupted by the mention of his name. "Tennis?" "Yeah," he replied with a casual shrug. "I go every Saturday, and it turns out Leon’s really into it too. You might like it." A quiet sigh escaped me. This nightmare wasn't going to end. At least I had been right about him playing sports. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I saw that my taxi had arrived. I grabbed my bag, ready to head out. “Sounds good,” I said with a resigned smile. My heart tugged at my chest as I walked away, like I wasn't quite ready for us to part ways. Not yet. It was like a supernatural pull had tethered me to him. Even if I couldn't be with him, I wanted to be around him. I couldn't let this go. Not yet.

Chapter 59 As night fell, the trio decided to retire to the bedroom, but Ollie wasn't quite ready for sleep. He reached for the remote, turning on the large TV mounted on the wall. "Want to watch something interesting?" Ollie asked with a shy smile, pulling out his phone. He connected it to the TV and pulled up the video he'd recorded earlier of Brock's transformation and merger. The clip began to play, filling the room with the sights and sounds of Brock's incredible metamorphosis. The three men settled on the bed, their eyes glued to the screen as they relived the intense moments. On screen, Brock's body writhed and expanded, muscles swelling to impossible proportions as the machine worked its magic. Tentacle-like appendages stroked and massaged his growing form, eliciting deep moans of pleasure. The Brock in the video arched his back as waves of ecstasy washed over him, his enhanced genitals pulsing rhythmically. "Fuck," Brock breathed, watching himself transform on screen. "I didn't realize how hot it looked from the outside." "Look at how your eight-pack starts morphing," Ollie pointed out, watching the defined ridges of Brock's abs begin to shift and change. Two new ab muscles emerged gradually, the valleys between them deepening until a perfect ten-pack was formed. His doppelganger nodded in agreement, equally entranced by the display. "The way those tentacles worked us over, how our body responded to every touch... it's so arousing." Ollie's breath quickened as he watched. The video showed Brock's chest expanding, pecs swelling into massive slabs of muscle. His nipples, stimulated by the machine's ministrations, grew more prominent and sensitive. Brock's thighs expanded to tree-trunk proportions, quads and hamstrings fighting for space. His calves became diamond-hard masses of pure muscle. Even his feet and hands grew larger, more powerful, perfectly proportioned to his expanding frame. But what really drew their attention was the footage of his cock's transformation. They watched as it lengthened and thickened, growing to impossible proportions. Veins emerged along the shaft, pulsing visibly as it continued to expand. Unable to resist any longer, both Brocks pulled their throbbing cocks free from their straining shorts, the fabric stretched obscenely around their massive balls. Their cocks sprang up, already leaking copious amounts of precum that darkened the front of their tight tanks. They began stroking themselves in perfect sync, their massive shafts pulsing with each touch. The thin fabric of their clothes strained against their flexing muscles as they pleasured themselves, threatening to tear with each movement. "Fuck, look at us," Brock groaned, watching their mirror image on screen while feeling his doppelganger's identical movements in real time. Their tanks rode up slightly, exposing the lower ridges of their abs as they stroked their enormous members. The precum flowed freely now, running down their shafts and soaking into the waistbands of their shorts. Each throb of their cocks made their pecs bounce slightly beneath the stretched fabric, creating an hypnotic rhythm that matched their synchronized stroking. "Want to see something really hot?" Brock asked, his voice husky with arousal. Without waiting for an answer, both Brocks began to transform. Their already impressive muscles swelled larger, growing to the impossible proportions they'd achieved right after emerging from the machine. Their remaining clothes shredded apart, unable to contain their expanding bulk. "Holy fuck," Ollie gasped, watching their real-time transformation while their recorded transformation played on screen. It was like seeing it in stereo - the video showing the process from earlier, while the live version happened right before his eyes. The Brocks grew to their maximum size, their muscles bulging obscenely. Veins popped out across their massive frames, their skin stretching to accommodate their enormous bulk. Their cocks lengthened and thickened, precum flowing freely from the swollen heads. Ollie reached out, his hands roaming over the expanse of muscle before him. He traced the deep valleys between each abdominal muscle, marveling at the perfect ten-pack both Brocks now sported. His fingers danced across their chests, feeling the hardness of their pecs and the pronounced nipples that stood at attention. "So fucking big," Ollie moaned, his own cock leaking as he worshipped their enhanced bodies. "You're both so incredibly huge." The Brocks flexed for him, making their muscles dance and ripple. Their cocks twitched and bobbed, painting trails of precum across their abs. The video continued playing in the background, creating an erotic soundtrack of moans and mechanical whirs. "Let's move this to the bathroom," Brock suggested, his voice husky with arousal. "Don't want to ruin these sheets with what's coming." In the bathroom, Brock positioned himself behind doppelganger, his enormous cock pressing against doppelganger hole. His massive pecs pressed against doppelganger broad back, muscles rippling with anticipation. "Watch carefully, Ollie," the doppelganger grinned. "We're about to show you another cool trick with our abilities." With one powerful thrust, he entered doppelganger completely. Both men groaned in pleasure, their muscles flexing and tensing in unison. "You see, baby," Brock explained between moans, "we can transfer mass between us when we fuck. Just watch what happens." Ollie's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? How does that work?" As they moved together in perfect rhythm, changes began to occur. Doppelganger's massive frame started to shrink gradually. His bowling ball shoulders became more streamlined, his barn-door back narrowed slightly. His massive pecs reduced to perfect, aesthetic proportions. "Look at his transformation," the doppelganger instructed Ollie. "See how the mass flows between us?" Doppelganger's 30 inch arms slimmed down to perfect fitness model size, while his ten-pack abs, though still deeply cut, became less overwhelmingly massive. His thighs reduced from tree trunks to perfectly proportioned columns of muscle. "Fuck, I'm getting close," Doppelganger growled, his hips moving faster. "Ready to take this load, brother? Ready for the mass transfer?" "Do it," Brock grunted. "Fill me up. Change me." With a primal roar, the doppelganger came, pumping what seemed like gallons of cum into Brock, but non leaked out. As his orgasm subsided, Doppelganger 's transformation completed - his body settling into the perfect proportions of an Instagram fitness model. "Amazing, right?" Doppelganger said, running hands over his new, more modest physique. "Still strong as ever, just packed into a more manageable size." They made their way back to bed, Brock lying down first, his massive frame taking up most of the space. Ollie climbed on top of him, attempting to rest his head on the enormous pec. "Ow," Ollie complained, shifting uncomfortably. "Your chest is like concrete. And these abs... it's like trying to lie on a washboard." Brock laughed deeply, the sound rumbling through his massive chest. "Sorry, baby. Here, let me adjust that for you." He concentrated, and Ollie felt the steel-hard muscles beneath him begin to change. "Better?" Brock asked as his muscles became more yielding while maintaining their shape. "Still strong, just softer for cuddling." Doppelganger, now in his lighter fitness model form, draped himself over Ollie like a living blanket. His more modest muscles pressed against Ollie's back, providing warmth and comfort without overwhelming him. "This is perfect," Ollie murmured, sandwiched between the two versions of his lover. "The best of both worlds - one big muscle daddy mattress and one sexy fitness model blanket." "Glad you approve," Brock chuckled, nuzzling Ollie's neck. "Having two of us definitely has its advantages." "And we can always switch it up," the doppelganger added, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath Ollie. "Whatever makes you most comfortable, baby." Surrounded by their powerful bodies, feeling completely safe and loved, Ollie felt himself drifting off. The doppelganger's now-perfect chest served as an ideal pillow, while Brock's warmth enveloped him from above. "Love you both," Ollie mumbled sleepily. "My perfect muscle gods." The two Brocks exchanged fond smiles over his head. "Love you too, baby," they replied in unison, their bodies instinctively curling protectively around their smaller lover.

Uncle Ryan - Extra Cap 23 (Present days) Mark arrived with a cold bottle of water for Ben, they continued to sweat sitting on the bench thinking and while Ben let go of these thoughts to drink the cold water, Mr. Crown entered in the gym. "OH! Look who I find here first thing in the morning! One of our biggest members! Ben Stonewall! Good morning you big guy!" said excitedly and overjoyed to see the big bodybuilder, the pale and stiff Mr. Crown. But Ben had not found the company of the co-owner, or rather majority shareholder of Mark's Monster Gym, very pleasant, and was willing to respond with a simple "Hi" before moving to the free bench for some dumbbell flyes to warm up his chest, while Mark was super excited that her partner was there and was acting almost servilely towards Mr. Crowd, Ben noted, forgetting that it was him she was supposed to serve, not that skinny old man. "Mark!" Ben said irritably as he stood at the bench waiting for his spotter, "...do you think these muscles grow without exercising, perhaps?" Mark was surprised by Ben's behavior, in front of Mr. Crown. What was on his mind? And he tried to say: "Ben...sir....I..." But he was more surprised by Mr. Crown's response: "Mark, he is right! You can't abandon your training partner like this! What are you waiting for!?!" and he pointed with a mischievous smile the way to Mark, who immediately moved to spot Ben. And Mr-Crow added, "Do you mind if I sit here and watch? I have some clients to meet for a new gym in Europe, and I have some time to spare? I'm going to disturb you...Mr Stonewall?" "Do as you wish, but don't bother me with my workout, I made myself clear," an irritated Ben grunted at the presence, admiring his pumped-up arms in the mirror opposite, while Mark arranged the weights for the set. Yet Ben, he felt that there was something that wasn't right, a feeling that something was wrong, something was missing... ""Absolutely, I'm just here to observe." Mr. Crown said coldly as Ben prepared for his first set, and the old man sat down directly across from him. Ben's flat bench workout continued, while Mark was busy adding plates upon plates to a barbell that was now on the verge of bending, with 6 plates per side of 99lbs, about 1190 lbs in total, a weight that not only shattered the Olympic world record but also made the incredible Ben perform eight clean and controlled repetitions, between grunts, snorts and sweat that covered his entire body. An exciting show for Mr Crown, who had a hard cock at all this spectacle, doing nothing to hide it, indeed, after the last repetition, grunting like an animal, Ben pulled himself up from the bench and instinctively did a more muscular one that literally tore the arm he was wearing to pieces...he smiled between pride and pleasure, Ben. It was too much for Mr Crown, who began to take his cock in his hand and masturbate right there in front of Ben. Ben was completely absorbed in his own muscular pumping, his calloused hands roaming over his reddened and pumped pectorals, as he felt their hardness and increased size, in a mixture of lust and pride. When the look of astonishment Mark brought him back to reality: "Mr Crown! What are you doing?" - seeing Crown now fully with his cock hard and he was masturbating furiously there in front of them, not caring about the others but completely invested in the enjoyment of doing it. Ben began to look at him darkly, until Mr Crown, calming down, said: "Oh... gentlemen... men.... excuse me, I could not resist so much muscularity, so much muscle mass, your being so big... you are incredible Ben... I...." But Ben immediately interrupted him: "...Mark, water! Now" he said in a commanding tone, Ben did not particularly like Mr Crow, it was obvious, for anyone. But Mr Crown was not a person who took no for an answer, after all he was the most powerful magnate in the state, gyms, shops, factories and even the TV, were his. "I'll go get it for you!" he said, getting up and heading towards the coolers at the entrance to the gym. "But Mr Crown..." Mark tried to object. but Mr Crown raised his hand to let it go and walked off to the cooler. "..I thinkhe is quite rude, presumptuous and pushy, yhe old man." Ben said dryly, once again checking his chest pump and letting Mark take care of picking up the pieces of his shirt on the floor and giving his swollen and red pectorals a quick massage from the hard training he had just undergone. "Well he's my partner, he cares about you a lot Ben, you know how much he helped you even financially with food and steroids to help you grow, he's just very...very proud of you...here.." - said Mark continuing to massage Ben's powerful chest, while Mr Crown returned with his bottle of cold water and handed it to Ben: "Here you are Stonewall! You are magnificent!" said Mr Crown with a twinkle in his eye handing the bottle to a Ben who decided to respond kindly this time "...thanks, I was perhaps a little rude a little while ago..." "Oh no no, it's in your nature to be dominant and masculine, calm down, go ahead and drink!" Mr Crown replied happily. After taking a nice drink of water Ben stood up saying he wanted to take a shower, while Mark worried about putting the weights back in their places for the clients, and after that he would prepare Ben's post workout protein shake, while Mr Crwon also composed himself and gave Mark a hand. The hot water was falling copiously on Ben's enormous muscle masses, his cock had become really huge, he loved his transformation more and more... if he thought back to how many years he had spent suffering the frustrations of his ex-wife, of that night he met that muscular monster in that hotel, that enormous monstrous bodybuilder who had fucked him for hours, tireless, powerful, huge and thick... his cock responded becoming hard as steel, while the water was flowing copiously on him and the pre-cum was mixed with the soap, while his head was throbbing and a strange fog was forming around him, Ben felt confused, while a person silently entered the shower, a toned but slim man, elderly, aware that what he had done. Ben turned off the water, still confused, his hard cock crying for attention but for some reason he felt like he was fogged up, strange...while the old man sat in front of him, eager, lascivious, licking his lips. "Sit down, dear....Ben, are you feeling okay?" Mr. Crown said angelicly to an increasingly knowing Ben, as the large bodybuilder thumped onto the bench in front of him, "...what happened...I was working out...and then...the shower....my head..." said an increasingly confused Ben. "Don't worry dear, I was waiting for my little anaesthetic to take effect... the water you drank... was special... and a strong hormonal push does nothing but speed up the process... luckily you big guys are always excited... and I knew that after your workout you would have wanted to unload your precious cum in the shower... but why make it go away, when...." said Mr Crown kneeling in front of the super heavyweight now at the mercy of the will of his evil benefactor. "what have you done to me...you little one...." said an increasingly unconscious Ben, now totally at the mercy of the old man, but he didn't have time to react, the substance circulating in his body was too strong, while his cock seemed darker than ever, where the bulbous and purple head continued to spit pre cum, and agreedsicva pointed upwards, veined and swollen like never before, while Mr. Crown's tongue began its work. Now on his knees, Mr. Crown one of the most powerful men in the state was finally doing what he wanted since the first time he saw Ben enter his gym, since his first cumshot in the saloon, sucking Ben's cock like a whore. "Mmm," Mr. Crown said, savoring every inch of that magnificent shaft, helping himself with his spit mixed with Ben's precum, "what a big juicy cock." Mr. Crown worked steadily and methodically, swallowing the thick cock down to the root, then licking the head clean of his spit and Ben's precum. He was in pure ecstasy, waiting for the copious load he knew was coming, while an unconscious Ben grunted in approval. "I'll take every inch thick," Mr. Crown said, "and all of your dear beast, you'll make me the man I'm meant to be!" - continuing to methodically suck Ben's big cock powerfully, finally a jolt was felt and a massive and abundant big load of cum was unloaded into Mr. Crown's deep throat, who was very careful not to miss a single drop, while this was happening Mark entered the shower and was able to see the whole scene. His lover seemed completely anesthetized except for his balls and big cock that powerfully unloaded load after load of his cum into Mr. Crown's greedy throat. What happened next seemed like a scene from a science fiction movie, Mark had never seen anything like it: "What's going on?" Mark said. As Mr. Crown unzipped his sweatshirt jacket and threw it to the ground. His face was slightly red, his teeth clenched and his breathing was getting heavier. He ran a hand over his white t-shirt, the fabric flapping around his toned figure, starting to get damp with sweat. He swallowed, and swallowed again, not wanting to lose a single drop of that cum: "Now we'll see if my theory is right Mark...." And his neck suddenly thickened. Around his neck, Mr. Crown's shoulders flexed and expanded, like pumpkins swelling in the meadow. He raised his arms and began flexing his biceps. He didn't have big biceps to flex, but then suddenly they swelled inside the white t-shirt, filling it to its limit. A wicked smile painted on his face. Fear in Mark's face. "Fuck!" Mr. Crown gasped. "It feels good!" His shoulders were as big as Mark's. His pecs were now growing to match. His shirt suddenly tightened with a nasal sound. Soon a pair of pecs formed that were rounder and prouder than Mark's, all his muscle rose like a live morph, he was starting to look like a heavy bodybuilder, he must have weighed around 242lbs or so He still looked ridiculous though, a heavy bodybuilder's body on gymnast's legs. But suddenly he convulsed, bent forward and let out a moan that was mixed with pleasure and pain, Mark was confused what was happening to his partner, and then standing up he said, "This is better than sex," moaning. His hand was actually on his cock. His legs pulse and explode in mass... "Holy shit!" Mark said in amazement at what was happening, while Ben remained unconscious while the substances in his cum did their strange work on Mr. Crown. He looked up and smiled at Mark, his eyes wild. "What do you think, gay asshole?" he said, "Do you like what you see, huh? I'm incredible!" His shirt was riding up to reveal his abs that were swelling into a bodybuilder's belly. As his shoulders rose and widened. Then his lats expanded outward and his pectoral muscles bulged outward, his thighs exploded with veins, firm muscles, with calves wide and full, as his feet spread to support this new powerful frame and Mr. Crown gasped. "Fuck yeah!" The shirt burst in the front and fell in two great shreds from his enormous form exposing the massive ridges of his pectorals as if that had been its original purpose. Mr Crown's old face was beginning to change, even rejuvenating it seemed surreal, but now he smiled; his gasp had turned into a laugh, several octaves deeper than before. He strode toward Mark and effortlessly placed a huge hand on his shoulder. "You thought you were big, didn't you?" he growled. "Well, look at me now, gym pussy. Look who's in charge now?" "Yeah..." Mark said with pure terror on his face and Mr Crown added. "And it's just fucking getting started!"

Chapter 3 The jungle was suffocating. The air, thick with humidity, pressed down on me, making every breath feel heavier than the last. My muscles burned with exertion, but I couldn’t stop. The sound of my footsteps thudded against the ground, blending with the rustling leaves as I pushed my way through the dense foliage. I was being hunted. I didn’t know what or why, but I could feel it—the weight of eyes tracking me through the trees, a flash of orange color, and the ever-present sense of danger closing in. Something in me urged me to keep moving. There was no time to stop, no time to think. I had to survive. My body was slick with sweat, each step a strain as I fought through the underbrush, heart pounding in my chest. The deeper I went into the jungle, the more of it there was—like the earth itself was trying to swallow me whole. That was usually where the dream ended. Four days of wading through the jungle every time I closed my eyes at the end of a long day. Ever since that night at the temple. But those four days were also spent wandering through the city. They were days of shared fun and easy conversation. Tam, Mina, Isabella, and I had fallen into a rhythm, moving as a unit through the bustling streets and quiet corners of Hanoi. On the second day, we joined a local cooking class held in the open courtyard of a small family-run restaurant. The warm, smoky air smelled of lemongrass and sizzling chili. Mina had managed to set her pan on fire while trying to flambé a creation of her own. Isabella captured the moment on her phone, cackling, while Tam and I tried our best to listen to our teacher. I found myself struggling, but Tam stepped in like a natural, crafting the most precise, picture-perfect spring roll any of us had seen. He looked at it with a quiet joy. The third day was spent riding. It turned into an impromptu comedy routine thanks to Tam renting the same size bikes for everyone. My ungainly wobbling became the highlight of the day, with the others teasing me relentlessly. Tam, looking a bit too pleased with the situation, circled around me on his bike. “You look like a baby deer learning to walk,” he jeered. “Hey, I’m picking the next activity,” I shot back. “Let’s see how you enjoy weightlifting.” We were winding through a riverside trail. The path was framed by lush greenery, the air full with the scent of blooming flowers and damp earth. Isabella kept swerving dangerously close to the edge, laughing maniacally as Mina shouted at her to be careful. Tam, riding just ahead of me, kept throwing glances over his shoulder, his hair ruffled by the wind as he made sure I was keeping up. I smiled at him. By the fourth day, we had learned each other’s quirks. Isabella had a penchant for bartering at the markets, often dragging Mina along as her accomplice. Tam had a quiet knack for sketching. I was amazed at how many hidden talents he had. Whether on a napkin or a receipt, I'd sometimes find him making quick impressions of random objects in his environment. He was also great at finding hidden gems—tiny book shops tucked away in alleys, street performers breakdancing with great agility to blaring hip hop music, or rooftop cafés where the air seemed lighter and the views stretched far and wide. As for myself, I’d somehow become the unofficial pack mule, lugging everyone’s water bottles, sunscreen, and souvenirs in my oversized backpack. The days blurred together in a pleasant haze of companionship, the kind of bond that only forms when you’re far from home, spending time with people who, a week ago, had been strangers. At night, we’d sit in our room, swapping stories about our lives back home. Mina’s dramatic reenactments of awkward dates had us in stitches, and Isabella tried her hand at mixology, testing out wild cocktail ideas on us. “Come on Bastian, your turn,” Isabella urged, handing me a glass with a vibrant pink liquid. A tiny umbrella bobbed inside. “What's your worst date ever,” she asked, her speech slightly slurred. I hesitated, swirling the drink in my hand, my thoughts suddenly clouded. "I don't think I should participate." “Come on, why do we only have to embarrass ourselves?” Mina complained, giving me a gentle nudge. "Your stories must be crazy!" I shifted a bit, my posture tensing slightly. My mind snapped to old locations, once familiar to me. I saw the faces of teachers, my parents, my old classmates. But then, him. My stomach lurched. “I think I'm gonna sit this one out,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended, barely more than a whisper. The girls exchanged a brief glance, concern in their eyes. Tam’s gaze softened, his brow furrowed as he searched my gaze. But, after a small awkward pause, they dropped the subject, and the conversation shifted to first crushes instead. By the end of the fourth day, our time with the girls had come to an end. Mina and Isabella were continuing their trip south, and it was time to say goodbye. Tam hugged Isabella tightly, promising to see her again one day while I took in Mina's contact information. Before leaving, she stopped at the door and turned back, her gaze flicking between Tam and me. “Take care of each other, won’t you?” With that, they were gone, leaving the room feeling quieter, emptier. For the next few hours, conversation was sparse. Tam pulled out a sketchbook and began doodling, lost in his thoughts, and I went to the gym, needing to burn off the restlessness. When I returned in a couple of hours, he was still at the desk, the warm glow of the desk lamp shining on his work. I couldn't help but walk over and lean in, curious. Calling it a doodle would’ve been an insult. In the short time I was gone, Tam had somehow drawn a portrait of the four of us, sitting around and eating sandwiches. The little details were uncanny—the brand on the paper bag matched the one from the place we’d gone to on our first day. His strokes were fluid and confident, every line purposeful. The faces in the drawing were full of life, radiating with energy. "Wow,” I breathed. Tam shrugged, not looking up from his work. “The shadows are a bit off, but it's not terrible,” he said, brushing a few stray pencil shavings from the page. I ran my fingers over the drawing, lingering on the tiny details—our eyes, the way he had captured the texture of our hair. “This is beautiful,” I murmured. “How are you so good at everything?” He chuckled, finally looking up at me with that easy smile of his. “I’m really not. This is pretty amateur stuff,” he said. I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re crazy if you don’t see how amazing this is,” I remarked, snatching the notebook from his hands. Tam grinned, trying to grab it back from me. I held it just above his reach, my arms extended. “Alright, give it back,” he said resignedly. “Well, you kind of messed up the proportions,” I said, smirking as he reached for it again. “My shoulders are way bigger than that.” "In your dreams, buddy, I got them just right” he shot back, biting his lip. I lowered the notebook slightly as he swiped it from me with a playful shove. "Cheeky bastard!" But no matter how bright the days were, every night, the dream gnawed at me. Without fail, it would pull me back into that same oppressive jungle. The cold, the mist, the lurking danger—it all felt too vivid, too real to be brushed off as just another strange dream. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it meant something, that it was trying to tell me something I wasn’t ready, or willing, to hear. While Tam slept, I found myself awake with my frayed thoughts, my mind repeatedly circling back to that night at the temple. I wasn't a superstitious guy, but I also wasn't a staunch skeptic. On the morning of the fifth day, I decided I needed answers. The shrine had been a quiet, almost incidental stop in our whirlwind exploration of the city. A serene little island in the middle of a lake, it had felt peaceful, calming—mundane, even. But now, as I crossed the same weathered bridge toward it, my heart raced, a deep sense of unease curling in my chest. I didn't know what I was expecting to find. Maybe I only went to find some peace of mind and lay to rest the ridiculous notion that I had been placed under some curse. The temple was nearly deserted at this early hour. The air was cooler, and the faint scent of incense lingered, carried on a gentle breeze. The golden statues, the silk flowers, the offerings—all were as we’d left them that night, unchanged. I walked slowly, cautiously, toward the shrine’s center, feeling the weight of its silence settle over me. I stood before the altar, the faint glow of morning light catching on its polished surface. My fingers hovered over the incense stick for a moment before I lit it, watching the flame flicker and take hold. A thin trail of smoke spiraled upward, twisting lazily in the still air. I knelt, just as Tam had shown us that night, and closed my eyes. "What do I do?" The prayer hung in the air, a plea carried on the incense smoke as it curled upwards towards the sky. As I placed the extinguished stick into the stone bowl, a sudden gust of wind tore through the shrine. It was cold and sharp, startlingly out of place in the otherwise tranquil morning. The wind seemed to wrap around me, carrying a charge that crackled against my skin and raised the fine hairs on my arms. My eyes snapped open. The soft, muted colors of the dawn now seemed vivid. Every sound—the whisper of leaves, the distant trill of birds—rang unnaturally clear, as though the entire world had drawn closer. The air thrummed faintly, vibrating with an energy I could feel in my bones. And then, as if summoned by my thoughts, a voice resonated through the space—not spoken, but felt, a deep vibration that reverberated in my chest. “Keep him safe.” It was my voice, a delayed but powerful echo. The sound was everywhere and nowhere, carried on the very air itself. It was a reminder. A vow. I froze, my heart pounding in my ears. My gaze drifted to the plaque set to the side of the altar, its words carved into smooth wood. Beneath the flowing Chinese characters, a bold translation stood out in English: Trial of Worth. The energy in the shrine surged, a low hum building in intensity as if the very space around me was alive, watching, waiting. My thoughts spiraled, a tangle of confusion and questions. I felt a presence, threading through my mind like a soft, guiding hand. I waited for some clear instruction to manifest before me—a sign, a direction, something tangible to explain the dreams, the jungle, the beast. But nothing came. I scrambled to my feet and backed away, picking up my pace as I hurried out of there. As I turned to leave, the hum quieted, the air losing its charged intensity but leaving behind an unmistakable certainty, one that settled deep into my chest. I wasn’t superstitious, not by a long shot. But I also wasn’t foolish enough to ignore what had just happened. The rational part of me scrambled for an explanation—a vivid hallucination brought on by exhaustion—but I couldn’t shake the truth I felt in my bones. Something real had awakened. I closed the door quietly behind me as I entered our room. Tam was still in bed, and a glance at the clock on the wall showed me that it wasn't even 6 a.m. yet. I slowly slinked back into bed, hoping by some miracle that I would catch some real rest—that I would wake up refreshed and forget about all this… sorcery. I went to sleep with trembling hands. Despite my nerves, I quickly found myself in a deep slumber, as if pulled back in by an impatient force. I was once more in that jungle, my feet sinking into the cold, damp earth. I began to recognize patterns as I waded through the roots and vines. The same rotten log, the same bird's nest. I began to wonder if I was simply walking in circles. Maybe the predator had already caught me in its trap. Maybe it was toying with me. Then, I saw him. At first, I thought it was a trick of the jungle—a phantom figure barely discernible through the thick haze of mist curling around the trees. But as I moved closer, the image became sharper, more real, and my heart jumped in my chest. It was Tam. He stood in a small clearing, though the mist seemed to gather heavier around him, almost as if it were alive. And he wasn’t alone. I saw it hiding between the trees. A tiger. Its massive body was crouched low to the ground, muscles rippling under its sleek, golden-striped coat. It was watching him, its amber eyes locked onto Tam with predatory focus. The tiger’s ears were pinned back, its tail twitching rhythmically, a predator savoring the moment before the strike. Then, it pounced. It moved like lightning, a blur of power and grace, its massive form arcing through the air with claws outstretched and fangs bared. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. Instinct surged through me, raw and intrinsic, propelling me forward. I didn't care about my safety. I had to do something. The world blurred as I ran, my legs pumping harder than ever, my muscles burning with an intensity that felt like it would split me apart. The creature was so focused on Tam that it didn’t notice me until I was upon it. I crashed into its body mid-leap, the impact rattling through my bones. My arms locked around its torso as we hit the ground, rolling through the dirt and undergrowth. The tiger’s fur was warm and coarse beneath my hands, its power palpable as it twisted and thrashed. It roared, the sound reverberating through the jungle, primal and deafening. I held on, my grip tightening as its muscular body strained against mine. My muscles burned with exertion, but instead of weakening, I felt an unfamiliar strength welling inside me. The tiger swiped at me, its claws grazing my shoulder, but the sharp pain only fueled the fire inside. Its amber eyes met mine, fierce and wild. “No,” I growled through clenched teeth, my voice a snarl I didn’t recognize. “Not him.” The tiger slipped beneath my arms and jumped back, keeping its body low to the ground. It watched me for a moment, its eyes narrowing. Instead of engaging me once again, it slowly backed away, its gaze never leaving mine. I rose to my feet, my chest heaving, my arms trembling with effort. As suddenly as it had attacked, it turned and slinked back into the jungle. Its form disappeared into the underbrush, silent and graceful, as if it had never been there at all. The quiet that followed was deafening, broken only by my ragged breaths. My clothes were shredded, my skin slick with blood and dirt. I stared after the creature, my pulse still hammering in my ears, half-expecting it to return. But then I remembered Tam. I whipped around, eyes scanning the clearing. He was gone. My stomach dropped as panic clawed its way up my throat. “Tam!” I shouted, my voice raw and desperate. I called his name again and again, each cry echoing into the stillness. Just as my fear threatened to overwhelm me, I jolted awake. My body shot upright, drenched in sweat. The sheets clung to me like a second skin, and my breath came in gasps. My muscles ached, sore and tight, as if the battle had followed me out of the dream. My hands trembled as I ran them through my damp hair, my heart still pounding as though I were still back there. For a while, I just lay in my puddle of sweat, taking in deep breaths. Eventually I stirred, peeling away the clammy sheets. My legs swung over the edge of the bed, and I tried to stand— Thwack. "Shit,” I winced as I recoiled, grabbing my forehead where I'd bumped the upper bed frame. Tam rustled above me. “Mhm… You okay?” he called out, voice muffled in his pillow. “Just peachy,” I said, gritting my teeth as I ducked more carefully before standing up. My legs felt dull as I nearly lost my balance, steadying myself against the wall. I stumbled my way to the bathroom, hoping I didn't split open my forehead. Closing the door behind me, I flicked on the harsh fluorescent light, blinking against its glare. My hand found the edge of the sink for support as I leaned on it, trying to gather myself. But when I finally looked up and caught my reflection in the mirror, I froze. The person staring back at me was me—but not quite. It was my face and body, but they were altered, like a half-formed memory from a drunken night. My skin was glistening, my veins standing out prominently against my skin, threading up my forearms and neck in sharp relief. My muscles, already well-developed and lean, now looked swollen and large, and without losing any of their definition. I leaned closer, slack-jawed, trying to piece together the unfamiliar reflection. My breath fogged the mirror as I stared, heart thudding in my chest. I looked slightly taller too, and definitely broader. I knew that couldn’t be true—not in the span of a single night. My tank top clung to me, soaked through and stretched taut against my chest, highlighting hard lines etched into my torso. For a moment, panic clawed at my mind. Any rational person would have bolted for the emergency room, imagining some severe rare illness. But I knew better. I knew this had to do with whatever test I'd been put through. And I knew that I had passed. I pressed a hand to my face, half-expecting it to feel foreign, but it didn’t. My jawline had subtly sharpened, and my traps looked wider. My skin was warm, feverish even, but it was still my skin. My fingers trailed down to my arms, tracing the lines of my biceps, the stiff resistance surprising me. I could feel the strength there, dormant but coiled like a spring. I flexed my fingers, clenching and unclenching them as the cords in my thick forearms tensed. Despite the surreal transformation, I didn’t feel pain, only a sense of vitality humming beneath my skin. All this time trying to break through my plateau, I thought to myself. Now look at me. I stepped back, peeling the wet fabric off my body and letting it drop to the tiled floor. I let out a quiet laugh in astonishment. It was like a tempest had surged through my body, remaking it stronger and stalwart. My dick stirred. I moved my hand to my widened chest, feeling the muscle harden as I contracted my pec. My abs, once washboard in appearance, were now engraved with hard chiseled contours. I had to slightly lean over my heavy chest to see them properly. I brought my arms behind my head and crunched downwards, seeing my midsection form into eight distinct granite blocks. There was a mounting thrill in seeing all the ways I'd grown. I relaxed my stance, shaking my head in disbelief. I twisted around now, trying to catch a glimpse of my back in the reflection. I couldn't quite get a detailed look, but I saw the rippling ridges cascading down my spine. My breathing slowed, and my face went hot. I felt the head of my penis poking out the top of my shorts, demanding my attention while I had been so enraptured by my transformation. I let my hand glide down my newly amplified physique, enjoying the feeling of solid muscle before hooking my thumb into the waistband of my pants. I slipped them down, springing free my member as it leapt upwards, slapping hard against my abs. My breath hitched at the sudden contact. I then held it, groaning at how sensitive it felt, and… meatier? With my other hand I palmed my balls, feeling their weight. Even they felt bigger, as if responding to the increased demands of my body. Look at all that size. I started jerking slowly, as if in a trance, and continued my examination. My lower abs and deep obliques cut lines in a deep V-shape, leading the eyes to the heavy prize that hung below in my grasp. My legs stood like two solid trunks, the valleys of my quads rolling as I bucked into my hand. I had to slightly widen my stance to allow room for my self-pleasuring. Even my calves were sculpted into hard diamonds, rising high and proud. I increased my speed, letting my fingers tease my cockhead on every upstroke. There was a knock at the door. “Bastian, are you done in there?” I momentarily stopped, snapping out of my reverie. “I'm gonna be a bit longer,” I managed to croak, my voice dry. "Alright, try not to take too long." As he spoke, I suddenly imagined Tam in the room with me. I pictured his lips around my cock, his eyes looking up at me, lost in arousal. I closed my eyes and redoubled my efforts. No need to hide your glances. Take a good look, I thought, lost in the fantasy. God, your mouth was made to take me. My hand was a blur of motion, my breathing heavy as I imagined him open his mouth, ready to receive my load. A low groan escaped my lips and I tightened my fist on the fat base of my cock. My toes gripped the floor, my head fell back, and I exploded violently, sending thick ropes of cum flying to my hair, my chest, the mirror, the ground. I bit my tongue to keep from yelling as waves of pleasure rocked through my being. I counted over fourteen volleys, each as forceful as the last. I continued to stroke, eliciting a shudder as I milked the last few drops that dribbled down my thigh. My lips curled into a satisfied smile, finally spent. I took a moment to gather myself, coming down from my state of ecstasy. Looking around, I was astonished by the volume I'd produced. I'd never cum so hard in my life. Shit, I thought, surveying the mess I'd have to clean up. It took me longer than I would've liked to wipe down everything, my eyes straining to spot the pearlescent goo against the white tiles. By the time I finished and stepped into the shower, the hot water felt like salvation, washing away the muck from my body. After what felt like an eternity, I finally stepped out, steam billowing as I grabbed a towel and slung it around my waist. I couldn’t help but notice how it hung higher now, exposing more skin than it had before. Curious, I pulled out the scale under the sink and stepped on it. I did a double take as I read the number: 115 kilograms. 253 pounds. I had gained over 30 pounds of muscle and around 2 inches of height overnight. I blinked, expecting the numbers to change as my vision cleared. But the reality stared back at me, undeniable. I still wasn't completely sure why or how I'd been imbued with this... enhancement. Don't get me wrong, I was extremely pleased with the results. But still, I knew that whatever this force was, it was expecting something from me. I hoped I understood correctly what it was. When I opened the door, Tam was still waiting for me, leaning against the wall and idly scrolling through his phone. “Took you long enough—” he said, freezing mid sentence as he glanced up at me, half-naked and steaming. “Sorry about that,” I said, running a hand through my wet hair. “I had another nightmare. The hot water helped calm my nerves.” It wasn’t entirely a lie—just a heavily edited version of the truth. I only omitted the part where I had the most intense masturbation session since I was a young teenager discovering porn. I saw his eyes dart to my armpit before quickly looking back to his phone. “O-Oh, uh, sure. No worries,” he stammered, his voice quiet. “I'll let you get dressed,” he added, brushing past me into the bathroom without meeting my gaze. He quickly closed the door behind him. I was feeling flustered from standing bare so close to him. I looked at the closed door, imagining him getting naked before stepping into the shower. I liked what my body did to him—the way it left him fumbling and shy. I liked the way his cheeks went red when I caught him staring at me. I liked his silly antics when he'd let his guard down on our adventures. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, to pull him close and shower him with kisses. I wanted him to look at me with warmth and need. I wanted him to be my boyfriend. Over the past week, we’d grown so much closer, and it amazed me how far we’d come since that disastrous first encounter. But still I felt my stomach twist. What if he thought I was just some shallow person chasing a quick thrill? What if he assumed I was still just looking for a one-night-stand, like I did on that first night? I needed him to know how I felt. I needed him to know I wanted something real. I moved to the dresser, taking my time in picking out my clothes. I wanted to look good, better than usual. I pulled on a classic navy polo shirt, but as I slid it down over my head, the fabric immediately started to resist. The sleeves dug into my biceps, uncomfortably so, and I could feel the seams across my back straining against the width of my shoulders. I tugged it lower, but the shirt kept riding up slightly, forcing me to relax my posture if I didn't want to flash my midriff. The pants fared no better. I grabbed a pair of khaki chinos, thinking they’d work, but as I pulled them up my legs, I quickly realized they were no longer going to cooperate. The waistband barely made it past my thighs, and once I managed to button them, they felt like they were holding on for dear life. The fabric dug into my quads so tight that I could almost hear the threads struggling. I looked ridiculous, but I had nothing else that would fit properly. I paced to the bathroom door, stopping just outside. I could hear him finishing up inside. My mind raced in circles, rehearsing the words, trying to find the perfect way to ask. The thought of him so close, so unaware of the storm of emotions I was battling, made the anxiety gnaw at my insides. I'm crazy about you, would you go out to dinner with me? Hey, do you wanna give this thing between us a real chance? I've been thinking about you nonstop, do you think about me the same way? “Hey Tam,” I finally said, my hands clammy. “Yeah?” his voice came through casual, easy. I paused. “I just wanted to say that this week's been a lot of fun,” I started. “If I was gonna be stuck sharing a bunk with someone, I'm glad it was you.” “Oh.” There was a slight pause. “Yeah, I feel the same way.” There was a brief silence before the door opened, and Tam stepped out. He was dressed in a sharp button-down shirt and well-fitted jeans. The fresh scent of his cologne—a hint of cedar and citrus—lingered in the air, and I couldn’t help but feel a flutter in my chest. Then he looked me over, his gaze lingering. “Are you okay, Basti? You look... swollen, or bloated, or something," he said, his brow furrowed in confusion. I gave a nonchalant laugh, though it sounded forced. “I think these just shrunk in the wash,” I said, trying to redirect the conversation back. His expression remained puzzled though, and he glanced at me again, noticing how he had to tilt his head ever so slightly higher. “Are you sure?" he asked, his tone puzzled. "You don’t look... yourself.” I looked to the ground, offering a half-hearted shrug. "Oh, yeah", I said, not thinking this through. "I think I might going through an allergic reaction or something." Tam nodded, unconvinced. Without saying much more, he turned to grab a pair of sleek loafers from his bag, slipping them on with ease. I raised an eyebrow. “I was hoping we'd get a chance to talk. You going somewhere?” “Yup, I forgot to mention, I won't be back till later tonight,” he said, grabbing his keys and heading for the door. “I've got a date,” he said excitedly, before closing it behind him.

Uncle Ryan - Extra Cap 24 (Present days) What happened next seemed like a scene from a science fiction movie, Mark had never seen anything like that: "What's going on?" Mark said. As Mr. Crown unzipped his sweatshirt jacket and threw it to the ground. His face was slightly red, his teeth clenched and his breathing was getting heavier. He ran a hand over his white t-shirt, the fabric flapping around his toned figure, starting to get damp with sweat. He swallowed, and swallowed again, not wanting to lose a single drop of that cum: "Now we'll see if my theory is right Mark...." And his neck suddenly thickened. Around his neck, Mr. Crown's shoulders flexed and expanded, like pumpkins swelling in the meadow. He raised his arms and began flexing his biceps. He didn't have big biceps to flex, but then suddenly they swelled inside the white t-shirt, filling it to its limit. A wicked smile painted on his face. Fear in Mark's face. "Fuck!" Mr. Crown gasped. "It feels good!" His shoulders were as big as Mark's. His pecs were now growing to match. His shirt suddenly tightened with a nasal sound. Soon a pair of pecs formed that were rounder and prouder than Mark's, all his muscle rose like a live morph, he was starting to look like a heavy bodybuilder, he must have weighed around 242lbs or so He still looked ridiculous though, a heavy bodybuilder's body on gymnast's legs. But suddenly he convulsed, bent forward and let out a moan that was mixed with pleasure and pain, Mark was confused what was happening to his partner, and then standing up he said, "This is better than sex," moaning. His hand was actually on his cock. His legs pulse and explode in mass... "Holy shit!" Mark said in amazement at what was happening, while Ben remained unconscious while the substances in his cum did their strange work on Mr. Crown. He looked up and smiled at Mark, his eyes wild. "What do you think, gay asshole?" he said, "Do you like what you see, huh? I'm incredible!" His shirt was riding up to reveal his abs that were swelling into a bodybuilder's belly. As his shoulders rose and widened. Then his lats expanded outward and his pectoral muscles bulged outward, his thighs exploded with veins, firm muscles, with calves wide and full, as his feet spread to support this new powerful frame and Mr. Crown gasped. "Fuck yeah!" The shirt burst in the front and fell in two great shreds from his enormous form exposing the massive ridges of his pectorals as if that had been its original purpose. Mr Crown's old face was beginning to change, even rejuvenating it seemed surreal, but now he smiled; his gasp had turned into a laugh, several octaves deeper than before. He strode toward Mark and effortlessly placed a huge hand on his shoulder. "You thought you were big, didn't you?" he growled. "Well, look at me now, gym pussy. Look who's in charge now?" "Yeah..." Mark said with pure terror on his face and Mr Crown added. "And it's just fucking getting started!" And then he saw himself in the mirror, his image of something powerful, dominant and magnificent: a face at least 20 years younger with a square jaw and a few days' unkempt beard that had blossomed on his previously hairless face, a taurine neck thicker than his head was flanked by shoulders as broad and round as cannonballs, veins as thick as tubes running down to full, flat biceps, with wide, well-separated riceps, leading to powerful forearms and hands with thick fingers that completed the arms, wide and far from the torso by way of the bat-winged, dense and powerful dorsals he had achieved, and then a broad, dense and thick chest with large areolas and perfect nipples, moving rhythmically to his powerful breathing, while the breast slid from there to his narrow, chiseled and hard abdomen, where the apollo belt twisted the lines into a large, swollen, monstrous cock, that he rested with two small balls the size of walnuts on two broad thighs, separated and submerged like tree trunks, where finally wide calves completed this powerful figure! The sensation was unique, all those muscles, swollen, turgid, full and thick, that power, the veins, the striations, Mr Crown felt like a real animal, no better, like a real muscleog of his wildest fantasies, he had imagined, dreamed, masturbated for years about this, about all of this, a musclegod and as such he wanted to be adored! "Mark, you little weakling, come here, worship your new god! Worship the one who from today will be your only reason for living, the only one you will have to serve, the only one who will dominate you with power and male superiority, who will punish you with his brute force, if you do not do what I order you!" - said the new Mr Crow through gritted teeth, a crazy look and foam at the mouth. Flaunting his massive biceps in front of a frightened and shocked Mark, the beast in front of him just a few minutes ago was nothing more than a toned and fit older man, but nothing compared to the muscular juggernaut he now faced, a man who had gone from 180lbs to over 240 in a matter of minutes, something that was insane, something that both terrified and excited him. Mr crow outweighed Mark by only 12lbs and yet he looked like he was twice as big as Mark at his full potential, never seen anything like it Mark told himself as he tried to understand the new, beefed up version of Mr Crown! So Mark slowly approaches this muscular new monster, nervous, excited and afraid. "..yes...here little man, worship your god..." Mr. Crown said sensually and excitedly to his new slave, he felt so powerful that he could submit him with just one hand and fuck him until he screamed, and then from there he would fuck Ben too, as a sign of thanks and submit him to his will, he had wanted that round and firm ass for months now, but first he had to start with his partner, Mark after all had given him access to the world of gyms years ago, and many had been the moments in which he had sucked Mark's little cock, just to allow him to see him pose or to see other clients pose in the secret room hidden in the posing room, now it was Mr Crown's turn, to dominate them all, all of them. "Mr Crown...hmmm...sir....your cock..." said Mark in amazement now moving closer to the muscular monster and pointing to what must have been a cock of at least 10 inches that was located between two muzzles and thighs. "Yes, little man, I've always had a nice big cock, you couldn't see it because you always snubbed me...but now..." Mr Crown said arrogantly, forcefully grabbing Mark's head and pushing it between his huge thighs, forcing his mouth to open wide to swallow his muscular cock. "...burm...no I...glom.." Mark tries to say before being completely at the mercy of the monster and starting to powerfully suck Mr Crow's hard cannon cock. "fuck yeah! You know Mark, you're better than I thought hahahaahah" - laughing with his deep tone Mr Crown, while he stimulated with his left hand the nipple of his new huge chest, what a magical sensation he thought, what an immense pleasure. All sensations that for years had been denied to him because of his weak and thin appearance, never again he thought, never again, while a flash of anger crossed his eyes and his balls swelled ready to cum in the mouth of his slave. Sucking after sucking, thrusting after thrusting, face fucking the one Mr Crown once considered his alpha and partner, was now just a slave. And so it rose, hot and powerful his jet of sperm, thick and thick, he felt it all over his body, in all his veins, in his belly, in his balls and inside his thick cannon of flesh, and away a powerful jet of sperm flooded Mark, unable to hold it in his mouth and covered it again on his face and his chest while Mr Crown roared with power and wild pleasure: "FUCK!!!!" In all this, Ben was still unconscious, dazed, passed out on the bench in the Monster Gym locker room, an unaware spectator of the power of a new god, merciful or evil, it was not yet known. and yet in his absence, to Mr. Crown's primal scream, Ben unconsciously responded by snorting from his big cock, a regurgitation of hot sperm, which slowly dripped down his enormous thighs, down to his big feet and slowly reached the feet of Mr. Crown, now in ecstasy for what was at that moment and perhaps in decades, his most powerful orgasm, a symbol of his superiority and renewed power. "Oh my..sprut...My lord...wow...you are....sprut... incredible!" said Mark completely drenched in Mr Crown's powerful sperm load and in complete awe of this new muscle god. Mr Crown smiled at Mark's words, slowly moved towards his slave on the floor, then grabbed him by the throat, scaring Mark and lifted him up with one hand by the throat, he was holding a 230lbs bodybuilder with one arm! Power! Domination! Stronger than any man of the world! And that excite him and in fact his cock was even harder if that was possible, at the sight and the sensation of what he could do, and then he said: "You ain't seen anything yet Mark, I'm going to fuck your ass, I'm going to fill your guts with my seed, you'll be my whore!" he said with wide eyes and a wide, sinister smile on his face, while with his free hand he began to torture Mark's ass. "Please...sir...Mr Crown...I have never...sprut....I am a virgin there...!" said a frightened Mark, causing Mr Crown to burst into laughter, a deep laugh, before throwing him against the lockers in front of them and then saying, "Do you think I give a shit what you want Mark?!?! What you could possibly want?!?! I'm your God!! You are my muscle bitch from now on and you will do whatever I want!" And he approached his prey with a menacing, powerful gait, licking his lips while the drool was flowing from his mouth, he looked like a carnivorous animal facing his small prey. And then it happens. A spasm, a grimace of pain, and another spasm, and growing pain, the god doubled up on the floor!Mr. Crown banged his fists on the floor that shattered under his powerful blows, a scene that scared Mark a lot, that paralyzed him unable to understand what was happening, Mr Crown screamed in pain, the pain seemed to be spreading from inside, so much so that it made him tremble, so much so that it created a jolt in the fainted Ben himself who for a moment seemed to open his eyes. "Lord...lord...what..." said a terrified Mark as he approached his god, who, in spasms, threw him away again. "What-have-you-done-to-me??????" he said between screams of pain and then his body began to change again, so big and wide it had become, so much it was shrinking and narrowing, the more his muscles deflated, the more the pain seemed to fade, until it left him exhausted on the floor, back to being as weak as he had been only a few minutes before. The god was no more, in his place was the always weak, old Mr Crown. "My lord...Mr. CRown....but what...?" says a surprised Mark, as Mr. Crown tries to get back to his feet still a little sore and saying: ".What...No...what...why??? I had studied everything!!!..." and then he sees himself in the mirror, small, thin, no trace of what had been except for his cock bigger than before, and so he half-closed his eyes, clenched his fists, took his big cock in one hand, the only trace of what had been and coldly said: "Mark, idiot get up, go get the medicine for memory, give Ben a dose of medicine for his memory again, erase it, erase today, start over, put everything in order and make him relive his day, he must not remember anything of what happened today. Do you understand ... " he said and added with evident envy and anger in his voice: "big ... idiot?" - he said turning and going towards the exit of the locker room without even waiting for a real answer from Mark, naked Mr Crown came out into the gym, angrily looked at that gym, Mark ran after him saying: "Sir.... what happened to you ... how is it possible ...?" But he was terrified by the angry look he received from Mr Crown, and Mark in silence, bowing, he waited there still soaked in his master's juice, as two bodyguards wearing a hoodie and trousers approached Mr. Crown, escorting him to his car. "...it's not complete, dammit!" Mr Crown said softly, as he got into his car.

CHAPTER 2: Alpha show on the school bus This is a continuation of the previous chapter. This time, the story takes place on the school bus. Again, I have used an online translation tool, since English is not my own language. This time, there has been no imput whatsoever from AI for structuring the story. Enjoy reading it and I would appreciated it if spelling of grammatical mistakes were sent to me in een PM, so I know how to make the story better. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Derek, part 2 The school bus smelled like sweaty students from the day before. The cool morning air had left a thin layer of condensation on the interior of the bus. The image staring back at him from the reflection in the bus window was nothing less than a piece of art, sculpted to perfection. ‘Why sit down if you can stand up, looking like fuarking this!’, Derek thought to himself while bouncing his pecs inside the extremely tight t-shirt that was poorly trying to contain their power. ‘Oh man … . Those arms, the perfect waist, these megalithic forearms, the broad shoulders and that rock hard gravity defying ass. Someone’s got it all!’, he mumbled. ‘And that someone is me, yeah!’ The obvious grin on his face lit up the interior of the school bus. He could not suppress it, that grin. Even if he wanted too. He was too sexy, too pumped, too ridiculously goodlooking, too fuarking alfa! Normally, he went to school by bicycle. But Derek took this bus for a reason. The clothes he wore didn’t have the ability nor the intention of hiding what could not be hidden: the sheer might of an 18 year old shredded and over-the-top cocky powerhouse. Apart from the driver, he was the first person on the bus. So he still had a few minutes to prepare for the show he had planned to give. He hadn’t trained almost all night for nothing. He was determined to get what het wanted. And he was going to get it soon. REALLY soon! And he knew exactly what to do for it. Soon, this bus would be packed with students and adults, trying to make their way to school or work. They would be his perfect audience. First thing to do was to roll up the sleeves of his shirt just enough to give the early travelers a good view of his biceps and forearms and a preview of what was to come … or ‘to cum’ if You prefer. His pants already looked like they were painted on his glutes. When he flexed the hard globes of muscle, the seams in his trousers would have to do everything in their power to hold their ground. He had left his jacket at home, on purpose. A jacket would only hide things that don’t need to be hidden. And sure enough: Derek wasn’t here to hide anything, oh no! The first bus stop came into view. Within a few seconds, a really cute twink, David MacKenzie, would climb the stairs of the bus, completely in the dark of what was to come. David was a 19 year old fellow class mate, a quiet but handsome guy with a heart of gold, but bullied by more than one asshole in school. But Derek had no intention of harming or bullying the cute boy. Instead, he would give him an experience of a lifetime. No sooner said than done, the doors of the school bus opened and the sweetest guy in school entered the bus, almost immediately shocked and surprised by what – or shall we say ‘who’ – he saw. And there was no way hiding his emotions. He was blushing like crazy and unable to look Derek in the eye. He took a seat a few chairs away, not to Derek's surprise. The 18 year old muscle dude knew exactly why cute David ‘chose’ this place on the bus. Sitting too close, he would not be able to observe the hot body in front of him. So this must be his ‘seat with a view’. And a view he was going to get, oh yeah! At the next bus stop, 15 other students entered the bus, filling it with the usual chatter and morning energy. They all walked past Derek, but not one of them had the self-control not to look back at what they just witnessed. A cocky grin started to form on Derek’s lips, who knew very well the impact he was going to have. The group of students sat down in the back of the bus and started gaming on their phones or listening to some music in a poor attempt to make them forget that an 8 hour school day lay in front of them. David’s eyes were now burning into Derek’s glutes. And sure enough, he caught a glimpse of cutie boy unable to take his eyes off his rock hard behind. This was going to be way too easy! The poor guy would get the show of a lifetime. Derek knew the guy was into muscle. REALLY into muscle! In a smooth sensual movement, Derek started ‘casually’ touching his glutes, making sure his powerful forearms were on full display, laced with throbbing veins. All the time discretely eyeing his cute ‘victim’ in search of any ‘reactions’. And sure enough, the reactions could not be camouflaged. By no power in the world. And Derek knew this way too well. While the boy’s face turned bright red and he became extremely nervous, Derek’s cocky grin spread wider and wider across his face. Gotcha! This was going to be fun. But the poor guy would have to be patient. For a few minutes. And Derek had it all planned. At the next bus stop, a large number of students entered the bus, filling the bus with more gaming students, book cases and coats. The bus was so crowded now that the bus driver – as always – had to intervene. ‘For Your safety, everybody please sit down. If there are no more seats available, You’ll have to sit on each other’s laps for a few minutes. Thank You!’ The predictable sighs of some students were replaced by obedience. After all, this bus driver was not someone you could mess with. And they knew it. Derek knew precisely what to do. He just waited until everyone had taken a seat, so the only lap available was David’s. When their eyes met, Derek left nothing to the imagination. The grin on his face said it all. ‘No, no no no noooo, pleaaaase’, was the unspoken message that radiated from David’s panicking eyes. ‘Poor guy!’, Derek hissed sarcastically before taking a seat on the nervous boy’s lap. His devious plan fell together like a puzzle. And for his poor victim (if You can call it that), there was no way to escape … . And Derek wasted no time. David had to get a taste of the power that was crammed in his body. Especially … in his rock fuckin’ hard glutez! Slowly but deliberately, Derek started shifting in his human seat, his abnormally hard bum rubbing against the poor guy’s now hard pecker. Then he started to flex his ass cheeks in a powerful symphony, played by the steel muscles in his shredded behind. First slowly, but then faster and faster. And all the other passengers where oblivious, focused on their smartphones. The sensations the poor guy felt on his dick, were not from this world. This was the hardest butt in the country, no doubt. And it was sitting, no RUBBING, on his lap. David didn’t know how to act or what to do. He was so overwhelmed. And his cock was now harder then it ever was before. And Derek could feel it. Through the ultra thin fabric of his trousers. Like an expert, he started masturbating the horny adonis’ steel member, contracting his left and right gluteal muscles alternately. No-one in the bus had a clue. This was now their little secret. Suddenly, Derek took David’s right hard and placed it under his shirt, right on his cobble stone abs, flexing them on purpose to the max. His human seat started to pant, unable to absorb all these emotions at once. This was exactly what Derek was waiting for. What he had been training for all night long. It was all planned in advance. ‘Oh man, yeah! Take this, you slut! I bet You’ve never felt buttocks little this, have you?’, Derek thought to himself. His own member was now fully erect and the seams of his pants almost lost the ability to do what they were designed for. An almost evil smirk spread over Derek’s face while he put more and more energy into milking his victim’s cock. The merciless massage of his fellow classmate’s dick and the flexing of his abs and pecs continued until there was no way back for poor little David. With a muffled sigh and a beet red face, mister cute came in his pants. Suddenly, the bus stopped. ‘All out’, the bus driver yelled. While standing up, Derek whispered in David’s ear: ‘Good booooy’. The shy boy came again. ‘PE class, here I come!’, Derek thought, while he flexed a most muscular crab shot pose in the reflecting window in front of him. This pose sent a new orgasm through David’s body. This was a beginning of the day Derek could only dream of. ‘More cum was going to flow freely today’, he promised himself. And the gym was the perfect stage for his next play. And with that, he got off the bus towards the gym, a huge grin on his handsome face and his rock hard buttocks rubbing one against the other.

Hi there: Thanks again for all of your likes and great supportive comments. Here’s the last chapter of Vacay Hookup. Hope you’ve had as much fun reading about Lance and Bob as I’ve had in writing about them. Dennis X CHAPTER 6 In Minneapolis the following morning, during a break from a shoot with the photographers, Lance stood just outside the FlexForMe Bodybuilding Equipment Co. Inc.’s building sipping a hot coffee that he had bought from a vendor. ‘It’s freakin’ cold outside,’ he thought to himself as he moved his feet back and forth to keep a little warmer. The building that he was working in was heated very comfortably, but he needed to get away a while and be alone with his troubling thoughts on what had happened last weekend with Bob. The entire staff from the photography company were now making Lance the centerpiece for all of the advertising that FlexForMe needed to reach their customers. They were all extremely impressed with him and saw that he had the perfect physique for showing customers the ultimate that could achieved if they purchased their products. His handsome looks and masculinity came through as well in the shots, and FlexForMe’s management were all very happy with the photographers’ results. Over the next several weeks Lance will also be busy with the videos to be made with him for the ads for television broadcasting. Also, for the lucrative corporate customers, the ad agency has organized an exhibition where Lance will demonstrate live the best use of each bodybuilding product to achieve the best muscular development result. Standing at a high table provided by the coffee vendor, Lance couldn’t help but chuckle when he thought that all of these photography shots and videos will be the perfect jack off material for a lot of muscle-obsessed gay guys. And the ‘meet the bodybuilder’ demonstration will be for some of the very wealthy customers to try to arrange a private get-together with him. But his memory of the amazing time that he had spent with the very handsome book-wormy nerd Bob then came rushing back to him with a knot in his stomach. ‘His sweetness, humor, intelligence, his love of muscle and what my muscle did to him. God, I fucking miss him so much,’ was spinning in his head. Lance realized that he probably would never see Bob again. And he also knew that it was important for his mental health to move on and start forgetting about Bob. * Just across town a little, Bob is racing in a cab that he is taking from the airport to the address of FlexForMe, which he hoped that Lance might be at now. Lance had said that he would be starting on the contract there very soon, so Bob was giving that his best shot now. It was an early 6:45AM flight from FLL to MSP, but he was anxiously up most of the night anyway, unable to sleep, just thinking of Lance, and his shocking sudden departure from the hotel last Monday morning. During his whole trip up to Minneapolis he questioned himself if he was even doing the right thing by going after him like this. ‘Why didn’t Lance at least leave a goodbye note at the front desk? Maybe we were just proceeding too fast, and he was overwhelmed and needed to get away?’ More of the ‘maybes’ were building up in his head and he knew he just had to calm down already. He passes the Mary Tyler Moore statue downtown and looks at it uneasily. Mary’s about to throw her hat up in the air as she says ‘I’m gonna make it after all’. Bob thinks, ‘Mary was successful at the bold move she’d made in coming to Minneapolis, but will I also be successful here in locating this fantasy man of mine? And if I finally do find him, how will he greet me? Will he even be happy to see me?’ ‘It’s not just his very muscular body and handsome looks, and, well, his masculinity, endearing cockiness and very funny side. But he’s also so kind and caring. Did I mention that he’s also very muscular?’ He asks the driver how much further? “Just a few more blocks now, bub,” he received in response. ‘Bub?’ Bob thinks. ‘What the fuck does “bub” mean? I’ll take it that he really knows that my name is Bob and is just mispronouncing it! And this driver sounds just like an old-time New York cabbie - here now in Minnesota?!” Bob lifts his head a little higher as the taxi slows when they’ve arriving. He’s very anxious as he glances around looking for a sign of Lance. But there’s none there. He does whatever he can to calm himself. He quickly starts thinking of how many expressions he can apply to what he’s doing here now: ‘a wild goose chase’, ‘a shot in the dark’, ‘a fool’s errand’. ‘All right, Bob, get a grip. You’re gonna make it after all,’ he says to himself quietly as he pays the driver and then steps from the cab. The temperature is below freezing, and Bob feels the extreme cold and wind right away. He’s wearing a stylish faux-leather coat which he had packed when he left New York for potentially cool Florida mornings. But it is not at all warm enough for here. With his luggage in hand, he immediately needs to make a dash for the building with the address of FlexForMe that he got off the Internet. Suddenly, not a hundred feet in front of him, he sees this guy in a heavy winter coat and ski hat with his back to him. Bob stops short as he looks at this man just standing there sipping coffee, and he perhaps irrationally imagines that this guy could be Lance. ‘But he IS about the same height and certainly has shoulders just as broad’, Bob rationalizes. He admits to himself that this of course has to be all just wishful thinking on his part. But his heart is thudding at the slim possibility that it is Lance, and with the guy’s heavy coat and ski hat, it makes it impossible to really know for sure. Just then the man looks to his side and Bob’s first impression is that he appears to be deep in thought. But suddenly, the guy’s masculine features come more into focus to Bob, and he starts to see that now this handsome guy is looking very familiar indeed. * Lance is trying his best to get his mind off of Bob, but he still needs a little more time. He just can’t reconcile the feelings he thought they shared with how it could have ended so easily. He then hears an unmistakably familiar voice very loudly call his name and he gasps as he realizes it sounds just like Bob’s. He’s got to be imagining it, he thinks. Lance turns quickly toward the sound and looks right at Bob, who’s still not sure Lance will be very welcoming. But Lance smiles and yells Bob’s name back in great relief as he puts his coffee down on the vendor’s high table. That’s all that Bob needed, and they both immediately begin running toward one another. Both scream out the other’s name again and they fall into each other’s arms. “I thought maybe I’d never see you again,” Lance says as they kiss. Bob, in a sniffling sob, says, “I know!” They then don’t say anything for many seconds, as they’re just looking at each other now in the disbelief that they’re actually reunited. They’re both wiping away joyful tears, looking deep into each other’s eyes as they then went in for another kiss, this time a little sloppier. With two strong hands, Lance grabs both of Bob’s arms, and says, “I’ve been fucking miserable since we said goodbye last Sunday, Bobby. I don’t want this to ever happen again.” Lance then got out the paper that Bob had written his phone number on, the Sunday before, and showed it to him. “Oh god, I’m sorry that everything got so confused,” Bob apologized. “I was just so freakin’ disappointed and anxious when having to leave you that night that I just quickly scribbled down my phone number. I can see on this paper that one or maybe even two of my numbers don’t appear to look correct.” Lance smirked at that and was about to respond when Bob quickly put his fingers across the bodybuilder’s lips to stop him, then dramatically said, “Don’t speak. Don’t speak.” They looked at each other with amused grins, both remembering the funny scene from an old Woody Allen film, “Bullets Over Broadway.” Then Bob, shivering from the cold, continued, “Don’t worry, stud-Lance Johansson. I’ll be staying here in this winter wonderland of yours for a while now and you won’t be able to get rid of me. Remember, I can work anywhere. And Minneapolis might just be a really nice place to shack up with you. Just as long as I won’t still be so freakin’ cold all the time!” Bob then giggled, as Lance expected him to. And Lance followed it with a jokingly faux imitation of Bob’s giggle back to him. That was soon followed by two full smiles and a quick lip peck. The bodybuilder then opened his ‘fur’ lined winter coat and spread it out wide. He looked at Bob lovingly and said, “First thing I’m gonna do is make you nice and warm now. Just like I did when we came back to my room after we were frolicking on the beach in the rain! Come on in.” “That’s the best invitation I’ve had since last weekend,” Bob said as he came to Lance. With the muscly man then wrapping his heavy coat around his lover, Bob felt the promised warmth immediately. But Bob also felt something else. “Ooh la la. It IS nice and toasty in here, but there’s also someone here that feels very familiarly muscular. I just got a feel of someone’s incredible pecs, and I wonder whose they could be?” “Just a little preview, Bobby, of your stay in Minneapolis,’ Lance said with a chuckle. “After I’m finished working here today, we’ll head to my place where we’ll continue where we left off last Sunday.” THE END

Chapter 20: Reunion of Lovers Andre stepped out of the car, his muscles aching from the long flight back from Argentina. His heart was heavy, the weight of his grandmother’s death still pulling at him. She had been his anchor, the matriarch of his family, and her passing had left a hollow space in him. But there was something else, too—something that twisted his gut in a way that was almost unbearable. He had missed his boyfriend Malik’s big win at The Arnold. His lover, his giant man, had taken the trophy, stood on that stage like the unstoppable force he was—and Andre hadn’t been there to see it. Now, back at the Tribe’s sprawling mansion, the “H,” he was anxious, his emotions raw. He adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, his scruffy beard hiding the pout of his full lips as he stared up at the mansion’s imposing facade. His mind was a storm of grief and guilt, but underneath it all, there was an undeniable spark of anticipation. He needed to see Malik. He wasn’t left waiting long. The front doors burst open, and there he was—Malik—filling the doorway like a damn god. His body, still glistening from a post-workout sheen, looked like it had been chiseled out of granite, every muscle perfectly defined, his dark skin gleaming under the soft evening light. Malik’s green eyes locked onto Andre’s, and in an instant, all the tension in Andre’s body drained away. "Andre," Malik’s voice rumbled, low and thick with emotion. He didn’t hesitate, crossing the courtyard with long, powerful strides. Andre barely had time to drop his bag before Malik’s massive arms enveloped him, pulling him into a crushing embrace that knocked the breath out of him. "I missed my babyboy so fucking much," Malik growled, his voice muffled as he buried his face in Andre’s neck, inhaling his scent like a man starved. "God, I need you so bad." Andre wrapped his arms around Malik’s thick waist, his fingers digging into the hard ridges of muscle along Malik’s back. "I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you," Andre whispered, his voice cracking. "I should’ve been—" Malik silenced him with a kiss, rough and desperate, his lips crashing against Andre’s with a hunger that left no room for argument. The power behind it made Andre’s knees buckle, but Malik held him up easily, one hand gripping the back of his head, the other squeezing his waist possessively. "Don’t apologize, family is very important," Malik murmured against his lips, his voice a low growl. "Besides, you’re here now. That’s all I care about." Andre’s heart pounded in his chest as Malik pulled back just enough to look at him, his green eyes burning with an intensity that made Andre’s skin tingle. Without another word, Malik scooped Andre up like he weighed nothing, his massive arms easily cradling Andre’s 240-pound frame. Andre let out a surprised laugh, his arms looping around Malik’s neck as they headed toward the mansion. Malik didn’t slow as he carried Andre through the doors, up the wide staircase, his heavy footsteps echoing through the hall. His eyes never left Andre’s, that same fierce hunger burning in them, a need that had been building since they’d been apart. "Malik, you don’t have to carry me—" "I’m not letting go of you," Malik cut him off, his voice low, rough. "Not after this long. I’ve waited too fucking long to get my hands on you again." Andre felt his heart stutter at the raw desire in Malik’s voice, his own body responding to the heat of it. His cock throbbed in his jeans, pressing against the tight fabric, the anticipation already building inside him. By the time they reached the upper loft, Malik’s breathing had deepened, his hands gripping Andre’s body tighter as he kicked their apartment door open, striding inside with the confidence of a man who was about to claim what was his. He set Andre down, but only for a moment, just long enough to rip his own tank top off, tossing it aside like it was nothing. Andre barely had time to take in the sight of Malik’s massive chest—thick, striated muscle rising and falling with each breath—before Malik was on him again, his hands rough as they gripped the hem of Andre’s shirt and yanked it over his head. Malik’s hands roamed over Andre’s body, his touch both possessive and reverent as he drank in the sight of him. "Fuck, I missed this," Malik growled, his eyes darkening as he took in every inch of Andre’s body. "Missed you." Andre’s breath hitched as Malik’s fingers dipped into the waistband of his jeans, unbuttoning them with a quick flick of his thumb before pulling them down in one swift motion. Andre’s cock sprang free, already hard and throbbing, and Malik’s eyes darkened further, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Goddamn, you’re so fucking perfect, babyboy," Malik muttered before grabbing Andre by the waist, flipping him around, and shoving him against the wall. The impact made the drywall crack, but Malik didn’t care—his hands were everywhere, fingers digging into Andre’s hips, his chest pressed against Andre’s back as his cock, already hard as steel, ground against Andre’s ass. Andre let out a low moan, his body trembling under Malik’s relentless grip. "Malik—oh, fuck," he gasped, his hands bracing against the wall as Malik’s lips trailed down his neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin. The feeling of Malik’s massive cock pressing against him, so hard and thick, sent shockwaves through Andre’s body, making his own cock twitch with need. "I’m not holding back babyboy," Malik growled, his breath hot against Andre’s skin. "I need to fuck you so bad it hurts." Andre’s breath caught in his throat, his body already burning with anticipation. "Then fuck me," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. Malik yanked Andre’s briefs down, exposing his firm, round ass, his hands gripping the cheeks like he was staking a claim. His cock throbbed against Andre’s entrance, hot and insistent, as he leaned in, biting down on Andre’s shoulder. Andre’s whole body shuddered under Malik’s touch, his fingers digging into the wall as he felt Malik’s cock pressing harder, teasing him, stretching him. And then, with one powerful thrust, Malik buried himself inside Andre, the force of it slamming Andre’s body against the wall hard enough to make the drywall crack again. "Fuck!" Andre cried out, the sudden stretch and burn sending waves of pleasure crashing through him. His cock throbbed, leaking pre-cum as Malik’s massive body pressed him deeper into the wall. Malik didn’t stop. His pace was relentless, his thrusts hard and deep, his grip on Andre’s hips tightening with each one. The sound of their bodies colliding echoed through the room, the raw power behind every movement making the furniture shake, the bedframe creaking ominously in the corner. "God, you feel so fucking good," Malik growled, his voice thick with need. He gripped Andre’s shoulder, pulling him back onto his huge cock even harder, his hips snapping forward with brutal precision. Andre’s moans filled the room, his body writhing under Malik’s control as every thrust sent him spiraling further into the heat of pleasure. His cock bounced with each movement, aching for release, but all he could focus on was the feeling of Malik inside him—stretching him, filling him, claiming him. "Malik—fuck, I’m close," Andre panted, his body trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable level. "Cum for me, babyboy" Malik growled, his hips slamming into Andre with even more force, the sound of their bodies slapping together echoing through the room. That was all it took. With a loud, guttural moan, Andre’s body tensed, his cock erupting as he came hard, his release splattering against the wall in thick, hot spurts. His whole body shook, the pleasure ripping through him in waves as Malik continued to pound into him, riding him through his orgasm. And then Malik followed. A deep, primal growl erupted from his chest, echoing through the vast halls of the massive ‘H’ complex, silencing every other sound. He thrust forward one final time, burying himself to the hilt inside Andre. His cock throbbed violently, each thick vein pulsing with raw intensity as he exploded deep within. The first thick burst surged into Andre, molten heat flooding his core, and he gasped, feeling the hot, viscous release invade him, heavy and unrelenting. Malik’s cock swelled impossibly, the sheer girth stretching Andre to his limits. As the floodgates opened, a torrent of thick, creamy cum poured into him, each forceful spurt filling him until the pressure became overwhelming. Malik’s massive, flared cockhead acted like a relentless plunger, forcing the white, sticky liquid to splatter out of Andre’s hole with every downward thrust. The sight and sensation were devastatingly intense—waves of liquid warmth dripped down Andre’s thighs as Malik’s release continued, seemingly endless, an eruption befitting a man of his immense size and dominance. Malik’s towering frame shook, his muscles rippling with the aftershocks of his climax, every ridge and contour glistening with sweat. His arms locked around Andre like iron bands, holding him close as his breathing turned ragged, each gasp carrying the weight of his overwhelming release. The room seemed to still as Malik’s body trembled in the throes of satisfaction, his grip unwavering, his power undeniable. It was a finish as monumental and unrestrained as the Champion himself. For a long moment, they stayed like that, their bodies pressed together, hearts pounding in sync as they caught their breath. Malik’s hands softened on Andre’s hips, his fingers brushing over the skin with a tenderness that belied the raw power of their earlier intensity. Andre let out a breathless laugh, leaning his head back against Malik’s massive sweaty chest. "I missed you, too," he whispered. Malik grinned, his lips brushing against the back of Andre’s neck as he wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. "We’re not done yet, babyboy, far from it."

I posted some more image of giant bodybuilders breaking out of arenas here:

Chapter 22: Leadership Changes The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the large master bedroom windows as Hadi and Big Ryan lay entwined, their bodies still slick with the heat and sweat of their recent sexual adventures. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of their steady breathing. Hadi rested his head on Ryan’s broad chest, tracing light patterns over his skin, content in the closeness they shared now after the extreme brutal fucking they both had just endured. Ryan shifted slightly, his hand gently stroking Hadi’s thick black hair. “I’ve been thinking,” Ryan began, his deep voice steady but laced with contemplation. Hadi looked up, curiosity in his hazel eyes. “What’s on your mind, big man?” Ryan exhaled slowly before continuing. “I’ve been feeling like I need to step back from helping you on the business side of things with the Tribe. Don’t get me wrong—I love what we’ve built, but my expertise, my passion, it’s not in running Tribe Builders or Tribe Movers. It’s with the bodybuilders. That’s where I belong.” Hadi studied Ryan’s face, seeing the sincerity behind his words. “You’ve been doing an incredible job, but I get it. You’ve always been at your best when you’re helping others reach their physical potential.” Ryan nodded. “Exactly. As an Exercise Physiologist, I’m in my element when I’m with the athletes, when I’m working one-on-one with the guys to help them push their limits. I don’t want to be pulled away from that anymore. The businesses are growing, and we need someone who can fully focus on that—someone who can give it the time, expertise, and attention it deserves.” Hadi’s eyes softened as he considered Ryan’s words. “You’re right. The businesses are expanding fast, and we’re going to need someone to lead them as they continue to grow. If your heart is with Tribe Bodybuilding, then that’s where you should be. We’ll find someone who can help me oversee Tribe Builders, Tribe Landscaping, and Tribe Movers.” Ryan smiled, relief washing over him. “Thanks handsome. I know the right person is out there. Someone with the business acumen to take the reins so I can focus on what I do best. And give us more time for what we do best” Ryan smirked as his big paw roughly grabbed Hadi’s massive hairy ass. Hadi nodded, pulling Ryan closer. “We’ll find that person. You belong with the athletes, helping them become the best versions of themselves. I’ll start looking for the right leader to take over the business side.” With that, Hadi and Ryan lay in silence, comforted by the decision that would allow each of them to focus on their true passions—Hadi as the financial leader of the Tribe and Ryan as its guiding force in the gym. Together, they would ensure that the Tribe continued to thrive in all aspects. — The sun was setting as Hadi stood at the front of the Tribe’s ‘H’ estate, a warm breeze brushing against his skin. Today marked a significant moment for the Tribe’s future. Hadi was meeting someone with the potential to not only join them but also lead the Tribe’s business empire into its next phase. Rick Sloane had made headlines as a business leader who transformed companies and took them public with ease. But the man Hadi was about to meet wasn’t the corporate powerhouse from the news. No, he had made headlines recently for different reasons, a messy divorce, coming out as a gay man, and an obsession with bodybuilding. This was someone who had recently undergone a personal transformation—a man at a crossroads in life. As the sound of tires crunching on gravel reached his ears, Hadi turned to see a sleek black sports car pull into the drive. Rick Sloane stepped out, his presence commanding yet subtle. He wore a fitted short sleeved shirt that showcased his large, muscular build. At 6’2” and 270 pounds, Rick’s physical transformation mirrored his inner journey. Bodybuilding had clearly become more than just a hobby for him—it was a new way of life. “Welcome, Rick,” Hadi said with a smile, walking toward him from the front doors. “Thanks for having me, Hadi,” Rick replied, shaking Hadi’s hand with a firm but friendly grip. His tone was grounded, yet there was a sharpness in his gaze—a man who was both reflective and still highly focused. “Let’s head inside. We’ve got a lot to talk about,” Hadi said as he led Rick toward the ‘H’. They walked past the gym, where several Tribe bodybuilders were lifting, their focus intense. Rick’s eyes lingered on them, seeing the same dedication he’d poured into his own training. They continued toward the business offices, Blake stood near the entrance to the Tribe's conference room, his massive frame filling the doorway as he waited for their guest to arrive. At 5'11" and a hulking 380 pounds of solid, beefy muscle, Blake was no stranger to physical dominance, yet when Rick Sloane stepped through the door, even he couldn’t help but take notice. Rick was tall and had the kind of build that Blake found inspiring: muscular but lean, sculpted with 270 pounds of precision and strength. His broad shoulders led to well-defined arms, the kind that flexed effortlessly beneath the fitted fabric of his shirt. His chest was thick, but not overly bulky, tapering into a tight waist and powerful legs that moved with the grace of someone who had mastered his body. The sharpness of his jawline and the intensity in his brown eyes gave Rick an aura of discipline and focus, qualities Blake respected. His thick black hair had a touch of silver at the temples, which made all the gay boys moan, ‘Yes, Daddy’, including Blake. But what really caught his eye was that excessively thick bulge, like an anaconda curled and trapped in his slacks just itching to escape. Hadi introduced his personal assistant and Rick gave the massive young man an impressive head nod as he shook Blake’s hand and took in the massive bulk of his huge body. Inside, they settled around the luxurious conference table, the images and trophies surrounding them were inspiring and impressive of the Tribe’s accomplishments. However, Hadi wasted no time getting to the point. “We’re building something special here, Rick,” Hadi began, his voice steady and confident. “The Tribe started as a brotherhood, a small group of men coming together to build each other up. But now, we’ve expanded into something much bigger—Tribe Builders, Tribe Landscaping, and Tribe Movers. Our businesses are thriving, but we need someone with your experience to take us to the next level. You've built empires before, and I believe you can do the same here.” Rick leaned back, processing Hadi’s words. “I’ve built businesses, yes. But I left that corporate world for a reason. I needed to focus on myself after my divorce and, well, coming to terms with who I am and my sexuality. Bodybuilding has been a lifeline for me. It’s given me a new sense of purpose, and now, I’m working toward entering and winning my first competition.” Hadi nodded, respecting Rick’s journey. “That’s why what we offer here is more than just a business role. I know you’re dedicated to your bodybuilding, and I wouldn’t ask you to choose between your passion and this opportunity. In fact, here at the Tribe, they can go hand in hand.” Rick tilted his head, intrigued. “How so?” Hadi smiled, his eyes lighting up as he explained the Tribe’s unique setup. “We’re more than just a collection of businesses in the real estate environment. We’ve also created a space for bodybuilders to thrive. Primarily, but not exclusively, gay bodybuilders. And not just amateur lifters. We’ve got access to top-tier professional bodybuilding coaches—guys who’ve competed on the biggest stages, including the Mr. Olympia. They’re here to help our members reach their peak.” Rick listened, his interest challenged. “Within Tribe Bodybuilding, we have a full team dedicated to keeping our athletes in the best shape possible. One of our founders, and my husband, is an exercise physiologist who works with every bodybuilder here, creating personalized training programs based on their specific goals and physical needs. That way, you’re not just following generic workout plans—you’re training smarter.” Hadi paused, gauging Rick’s reaction. He could see the wheels turning in his mind. “We also have an onsite medical clinic, Tribe Medical, led by Dr. Min-jun Kim, or Dr. Min as we call him. He now specializes in sports medicine and bodybuilding. He is also prepping for a competition this summer. His job is to make sure our guys are staying healthy while pushing their limits. He handles everything from routine checkups and blood work to addressing any muscle strain or injuries. And if you ever need a little extra care, we have a Physical Therapist on staff too—another competitive bodybuilder, Javier—someone who works specifically with our bodybuilders to ensure recovery is optimal.” Rick’s eyebrows raised, clearly impressed. “That’s not all,” Hadi continued. “We’ve got access to an excellent massage therapist, Hank, who’s one of the best deep-tissue specialists out there. He understands exactly what it takes to keep muscles loose and ready for heavy training. And if you’re serious about winning your first contest, you’ll also appreciate the two personal chefs we have on-site, Luis and Andre. They’ll tailor your meals down to the last macronutrient, ensuring your body gets everything it needs to perform at its best.” Rick leaned forward now, clearly more engaged. “This sounds like a pro-level operation.” “It is,” Hadi said, nodding. “We’ve built this system for guys like you—guys who want to push themselves to the limit but also want the support and structure to stay healthy and perform at the highest level. You won’t be doing this alone, Rick. The Tribe has everything you need to train, recover, and win. You’ll be working with a full team that’s as dedicated to your success as you are.” Rick sat back, absorbing the depth of what Hadi was offering. It wasn’t just about leading businesses. It was about combining his two worlds—business and bodybuilding—into something that aligned with the man he had become. He could build a legacy with the Tribe while training to win his first competition, all while surrounded by a community that supported him in both endeavors and could help to continue to navigate his way into becoming a proud gay man. “Alright,” Rick said, his voice more resolute. “I like what I’m hearing. I’m definitely interested in leading your businesses, but I’m going to need time to train. I’m serious about winning this competition.” Hadi smiled, sensing the deal was sealed. “You’ll have everything you need, Rick. And I can promise you, with the Tribe behind you, both in business and on stage, you’ll be unstoppable.” “Let’s take a break for some lunch while Blake gets everything set up to review our books and dive into the details.” Hadi said with a big smile, “Hope you’re hungry big guy, the chefs have a special treat prepared.” They headed for the kitchen and dining areas, and as Rick looked around at the Tribe’s vast complex, he realized that he was stepping into a new chapter of his life—one where he didn’t have to choose between his passions. He could have it all. Later that evening, Rick Sloane pulled his sleek sports car into the valet station outside the luxury hotel, the low rumble of the engine cutting off as he slid out of the driver’s seat with effortless confidence. Everything about him radiated power and control, from the sharp cut of his tailored clothes to the swagger in his stride. His tall muscular frame filled the space with a presence that couldn’t be ignored. Broad shoulders, a perfectly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, and piercing brown eyes that seemed to command respect—Rick was the definition of a man who knew his worth. And why shouldn’t he? The obscene bulge at his crotch told the whole story. His cock was a beast—9 inches long, and just as thick in girth, he’d never come close to seeing another man as thick as him. The heavy slab strained against the fine fabric of his pants, drawing more than a few stolen glances from the staff as he exited the car. He smirked knowingly, his hand brushing against the outline as he caught sight of Dylan, the young handsome bellman who had checked him in the day before. Dylan was back at his post, the muscular, athletic frame beneath his uniform straightening instinctively when he saw Rick approaching. The kid couldn’t be more than 21, with a sharp jawline and blue eyes that darted to Rick’s crotch before quickly snapping back up to meet his gaze. “Mr. Sloane,” Dylan said, stepping forward with a bright, nervous smile. “Welcome back. Long day?” Rick grinned, his confidence oozing with every word. “Yes, long and fulfilling,” he said, his voice low and rich. His hand slid into his pocket, drawing Dylan’s attention once again to the thick, obscene bulge that seemed even more prominent up close. “But I think the night might be better.” Dylan’s smile faltered for half a second as his gaze lingered—just long enough for Rick to notice. “Glad to hear it, sir,” Dylan said, recovering quickly. His tone was polite, but there was an undeniable edge of curiosity and interest. “If there’s anything I can do to make it even better, just let me know.” Rick took in the full pouty lips and wide shape of Dylan’s mouth, he knew from experience this was the type of mouth that could handle his thick meat. Rick’s grin widened, his ego swelling as he leaned in slightly, his sheer size and charisma pulling Dylan closer. “What’s your name again, kid?” Rick asked, even though he knew his name. “Dylan,” the bellman replied, his voice quieter now, as though he wasn’t sure where this was headed. “Well, Dylan,” Rick said, his tone shifting to something darker, more suggestive. “Why don’t you come upstairs when your shift ends and help me settle in?” Dylan blinked, his eyes widening slightly before his lips curved into a slow, daring smile. “Of course, Mr. Sloane,” he said, the flirtation unmistakable. “I was just about to clock out. Let me finish up down here, and I’ll be right with you. Would you like to wait in the bar with a cocktail or should I come up to meet you?” “Good idea, I could use a strong drink,” Rick smirked as he entered the lobby and headed toward the upscale cocktail bar. The suite was the epitome of luxury, but Rick barely noticed as he walked inside, tossing his jacket onto the nearest chair and stretching his huge muscles to reveal his thick, hard guns. He poured himself a glass of bourbon, his piercing brown eyes watching Dylan as the young man stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “You look nervous,” Rick said, his smirk returning as he took a slow sip. “Not nervous,” Dylan replied, standing by the door with his hands clasped in front of him. “Just…excited and curious.” His eyes darted down to the grotesque throbbing bulge. Rick chuckled, setting his glass down as he turned to face Dylan fully. He reached up, unbuttoning the top of his shirt to reveal the beginnings of his hairy chest, the dark curls just visible beneath the fabric. “Curious, huh?” he drawled, his hand moving to his belt. “Well, let’s see if I can give you some answers. First off, yes, it’s real.” Dylan’s eyes followed Rick’s every movement as the older man undid his belt and let his pants drop, revealing the massive bulge straining against his briefs. Rick’s cock was a living monument to excess, its thick outline pressing against the thin fabric like it was desperate to be free. “Go ahead,” Rick said, his voice cocky as he ran a hand through his beard. “Take a closer look. I know you’ve been staring at my huge cock since yesterday.” Dylan hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, his blue eyes flicking between Rick’s face and the monster waiting beneath his briefs. Rick grinned, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pulling them down, his cock springing free and slapping heavily against his thigh. The sheer size of it was staggering—9 inches long, but the tremendous girth was what left Dylan’s mouth fully agape. Thick veins snaked along the shaft, the bulbous head already slick with precum. “Jesus fuckin’ christ,” Dylan breathed, his voice barely audible. “Biggest you’ve ever seen, huh?” Rick said, his smirk widening as he stepped closer, his massive cock swinging heavily with every step. “You’re not the first to be awestruck. Now, let’s see if you can keep up. Get down on your knees boy.” Dylan dropped to his knees, his hands trembling slightly as they gripped Rick’s powerful thighs. “I’ll do my best, sir,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of determination and awe. “You’d better,” Rick replied, his hand resting heavily on Dylan’s head as the young man leaned forward, his lips parting to take the head of Rick’s cock into his mouth. It stretched his jaw almost painfully, and he gagged slightly, but Rick didn’t let him pull back. “Relax,” Rick growled, his tone both commanding and teasing. “You’ve got a long way to go.” Dylan moaned around the shaft, his hands moving to the base as he worked his mouth over the enormous girth. Rick’s hips rocked forward slowly, the weight of his cock forcing Dylan to take more, the young man’s gagging and moans only feeding Rick’s ego. “That’s it, boy” Rick growled, his voice a low guttural rumble. “Work for it. Gag on my huge meat. I don’t make it easy, but you’ll thank me when it’s over.” He tightened his grip on Dylan’s hair, pulling him closer, forcing his face deeper into the suffocating heat of his musky pubes. The room was filled with wet, obscene sounds as Dylan struggled to accommodate the monstrous cock, his eyes watering as Rick began to thrust harder, the veins in his forearms bulging as he gripped Dylan’s head. Rick's hips began to rock with a savage intensity, each thrust a deliberate act of subjugation. Veins bulged in his thick biceps and forearms, ropes of muscle tightening as he gripped Dylan's head, controlling the pace, the depth, the very essence of the young man's existence. Dylan's eyes, bloodshot and dilated, pleaded silently, but Rick remained unmoved. “Fuck,” Rick groaned, his deep voice filled with satisfaction. “You’re better than I expected, boy. But I’m not even close to done with you yet.” He thrust harder, deeper, driving the monstrous cock towards some unseen limit. Dylan moaned in response, his throat tightening as Rick’s cock pushed deeper, his hands gripping Rick’s thighs for balance as he gave in to the older muscleman’s sheer dominance. Rick’s head tilted back, his chest heaving as his thrusts grew faster, rougher. “You like this, don’t you?” he growled, his voice thick with arrogance. “Taking the fattest cock you’ve ever seen. Bet you’ll be dreaming about this for weeks, every single throbbing inch of it.” He increased the tempo, his movements becoming a frenzied blur. Dylan's moans grew louder, more desperate, a desperate plea for release that was both surrender and defiance. Then, it came. A wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure, so intense it threatened to shatter Rick's senses. His body arched, his powerful back muscles contracting, his grip on Dylan tightening to an almost painful degree. A guttural roar escaped his lips as he erupted, a torrent of thick, hot cum exploding deep inside Dylan's throat. The sheer force of the ejaculation sent Dylan’s mind reeling, his body convulsing violently. He choked, gasping for air, his eyes squeezed shut as he struggled to swallow the flood of thick semen. Rick held him there, his cock still deeply embedded, savoring the moment of absolute dominance as rope after rope unloaded against the hot constricting throat. He felt a primal satisfaction, a deep-seated hunger, finally satisfied. He looked down at Dylan, his face flushed, his eyes glazed over, a pathetic figure of submission. Rick held him there for a moment longer before pulling back, his cock still throbbing as he looked down at the dazed young man. "Not bad," Rick said, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. He withdrew slowly, the monstrous cock leaving a trail of glistening moisture behind. He reached for the crystal glass of bourbon, his hand steady despite the lingering tremor of his orgasm. "You might just have a future in taking care of this monster cock, boy." Dylan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his cheeks still flushed, a dazed grin spreading across his face. "Best tip I've ever gotten," he rasped, his voice hoarse from the recent abuse. Rick chuckled, raising his glass in a mocking toast. "Damn right it is. Now, let's see if that ass is as good as that pretty mouth." He leaned forward, his gaze lingering on Dylan's perky round glutes, anticipation simmering beneath the surface. The game had just begun.

Chapter 21: Late Night Delivery Sergeant Bennett stood in the dim glow of his security office, his hulking frame casting shadows over the monitors in front of him. His arms were crossed, muscles bulging beneath his tight Tribe Security shirt, but his sharp gaze was focused on his boy, Ethan, who waited for his orders. Bennett didn’t waste time. "Ethan," he said, his deep voice carrying authority, "I need you to take this jump drive to Manuel. He’s down in his office in the lower left 'H,' still working late. It’s the latest security update for the complex, and Manuel needs it now." Ethan stepped forward, taking the drive from Bennett’s massive hand. He felt the weight of it, but knew there was something more in Bennett’s tone, something unspoken. "And Ethan," Bennett continued, his voice lowering as he leaned in slightly, "make sure his needs are being met. Javier’s been away all week. Manuel’s probably in need of some attention and some relief." Ethan’s lips curled into a small grin. He knew exactly what that meant. Manuel was a beast of a man, strong, dedicated, and always in control. But even he had limits, especially with his boyfriend Javier out of town. Ethan was well known for his cocksucking skills and no-gag reflex, and he’d been sent on tasks like this before by his Master. The big men of the Tribe often needed more than just casual conversation to unwind after a long day. "Understood, Sir," Ethan replied, his voice steady, though there was a flicker of excitement behind his eyes. Bennett’s hand lingered on Ethan’s shoulder, gripping it tightly for a moment, a reminder of the boundaries in place. "Finish him off right, Ethan. But remember, only I take you completely. That ass is not for anyone else." Ethan nodded, his smile widening. "Understood, Sir." Bennett watched with pride as Ethan exited the room. The small scared young boy had grown into a secure young man, his workouts and mixed martial arts fight training had given him confidence and had packed his tight body with bulging hard muscles. But what Bennett loved the most were those puppy dog eyes of worship under that head full of curly locks as he gave Bennett one last look before heading down the long hallway. The compound was mostly quiet as Ethan made his way down to the lower wing, the soft sound of his footsteps echoing in the expansive halls. The 'H' complex was massive, but Ethan knew his way around, and knew every corner of the place by heart. And tonight, his destination was clear: Manuel’s office, where the big Latino Papi was likely buried in paperwork and blueprints, working late into the night as the CEO of Tribe Builders. Ethan relished every opportunity to assist Sergeant Bennett in the security office. There was something electrifying about being near Bennett—not just the thrill of proximity to someone he worshipped but also the quiet confidence that Bennett exuded. It was infectious, stirring something in Ethan that felt almost primal, a deep-rooted desire to prove himself. Over time, Ethan realized it wasn’t just the thrill of Bennett’s presence that kept drawing him back. He genuinely enjoyed the work: the structure, the sense of purpose, the way even small tasks felt like they mattered. He had a knack for it too, quickly picking up on procedures and instinctively understanding how to spot vulnerabilities, both in people and in systems. The more he immersed himself in the security office's rhythm, the more his cleaning duties felt like a different lifetime. He caught himself wondering what it would be like to trade his mop and broom for the tools of the trade Bennett wielded so effortlessly. Still, he hesitated to voice the thought outright. He wasn't sure if he was overstepping—or worse, if he was imagining a role for himself that wasn’t there. But the idea lingered, buzzing quietly in the back of his mind. For now, Ethan filed the thought away, making a mental note to speak with Bennett about the possibility when the time felt right. After all, if there was one thing he’d learned from observing the massive Sergeant, it was the importance of timing—how waiting for the perfect moment could be as critical as acting decisively. When Ethan reached the door, he knocked once before pushing it open. Inside, Manuel was hunched over his desk, his broad shoulders flexing beneath a tight button-down, the sleeves rolled up his meaty forearms. He looked up, his soft brown eyes meeting Ethan’s with a tired but welcoming glance. "Ethan," Manuel greeted, his deep voice thick with exhaustion. "What’s up? Did Bennett send you?" Ethan nodded, stepping forward and holding out the jump drive. "He did sir. New security updates for the ‘H.’ He wanted it delivered directly to you." Manuel leaned back in his chair, reaching out to take the drive from Ethan’s hand. As his fingers brushed against Ethan’s, the younger man felt the heat of Manuel’s touch, his broad hands warm and rough from years of hard labor. Manuel’s chest rose and fell heavily, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Ethan. "Thanks," Manuel muttered, but there was something else in his tone. Ethan could hear the edge in it, the undercurrent of tension. Manuel was wound tight, and it wasn’t just from the workload. Ethan stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Bennett also wanted me to check in on you… to make sure your needs are being met." Manuel’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something crossing his face—desire, hunger. "Bennett said that, did he?" Ethan nodded, stepping around the desk, moving in closer until he was standing right in front of Manuel. "He did. And I’m here to help with whatever you need." Manuel’s eyes roamed over Ethan’s athletic body, lingering on his lean muscular frame, the sharp lines of his muscles visible beneath his clothes. He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair, his massive chest stretching the fabric of his shirt. "You know, it’s been a long week," Manuel muttered, his voice low. "Javier’s been away, and I’ve been buried in this shit." He gestured at the papers scattered across the desk. Ethan smiled, his eyes flashing with intent. "Let me take care of you, Papi," he whispered, dropping the formalities as he stepped closer, his hand resting on Manuel’s broad shoulder. Manuel’s breath hitched slightly, his dark eyes locking onto Ethan’s. For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, the heavy tension building between them. Manuel’s hand reached up, gripping Ethan’s waist as he pulled him in closer, his large palm sliding down to cup Ethan’s ass, squeezing it firmly. "You know what you’re doing, don’t you?" Manuel growled, his voice rough with need. Ethan grinned, his lips curling as he dropped to his knees in front of Manuel. "Yeah, I do," he murmured, his hands already moving to unbutton Manuel’s pants. Manuel’s big uncut cock was already half-hard, straining against the fabric as Ethan freed it from his pants. Thick and heavy, it throbbed in Ethan’s hand as he stroked it slowly, watching as Manuel’s head fell back slightly, his eyes fluttering closed as he let out a low groan. Ethan leaned forward, his lips parting as he took the thick head of Manuel’s uncut cock into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the foreskin, teasing it before sliding further down the thick shaft. Manuel’s cock pulsed against his tongue, and Ethan worked him deeper, relaxing his throat as he took more of it in. Manuel groaned, his hand sliding to the back of Ethan’s head, gripping his curly hair as he thrust his hips forward slightly, pushing more of his cock into Ethan’s mouth. "Fuck, that feels good," he growled, his voice rough with pleasure. Ethan hummed around Manuel’s cock, the vibration sending a shiver through the big man’s body. He took Manuel deeper, his throat relaxing as he swallowed around the thick shaft, his lips sliding down until his nose was pressed against the base of Manuel’s cock, smelling the sweat of the day trapped in his thick hairy bush. "Goddamn," Manuel muttered, his grip tightening on Ethan’s hair as he bucked his hips, thrusting into Ethan’s mouth with slow, deliberate movements. "You’re fucking good at this." Ethan moaned softly, his throat relaxing as he let Manuel fuck his mouth, the wet sounds of his lips sliding up and down filling the room. Manual’s cock kept getting thicker and thicker in his mouth, stretching his throat and lips to their limit. He looked up, his eyes locking onto Manuel’s as he hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder. Manuel’s chest heaved, his massive frame tensing as he edged closer to release. "Keep going," he growled, his voice strained. "Don’t stop boy, keep working my big dick." Ethan didn’t need to be told twice. He doubled down, his tongue working over Manuel’s cock, his hands cupping the older man’s low-hanging balls, squeezing them gently as he worked him closer and closer to the edge. Manuel’s breathing grew heavier, his hips bucking harder now, his grip on Ethan’s hair almost painful as he thrust deep into Ethan’s throat. "Fuck… I’m close," he groaned, his voice rough with need. Ethan moaned around Manuel’s cock, his mouth working faster, his hands sliding up to grip Manuel’s thighs as he took him deeper, pushing the big man to the brink. With a final, guttural growl, Manuel’s body tensed, his fat cock pulsing in Ethan’s mouth as he came hard, spilling his release down Ethan’s throat in thick, hot streams. Ethan swallowed every drop, his throat working around Manuel’s thick cock as he milked him through his orgasm, the taste of him filling his mouth. Manuel’s massive body sagged back in the chair, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. He looked down at Ethan, his eyes dark and satisfied, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Goddamn, Ethan," he muttered, his voice rough. "That’s exactly what I needed. You’ve got a real talent there boy." Ethan pulled off Manuel’s cock slowly, his lips slick and puffy as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He grinned up at Manuel, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Glad I could help, Papi." Manuel chuckled, reaching down to pull Ethan to his feet, his large hands resting on the younger man’s waist. "You sure as hell did. I’ve never had anyone take all of me like that before…every fucking inch of my fat pinga." Ethan straightened his clothes, still feeling the heat between them as he stepped back slightly, knowing he had fulfilled his task—completely. "I’ll let Sir Bennett know everything’s been handled," Ethan said with a smirk. Manuel nodded, leaning back in his chair, still catching his breath, and with a low chuckle, "Tell him I owe him one." Ethan flashed a final grin before turning and heading for the door, leaving Manuel behind, satisfied and drained.

Here's the next chapter. To be honest, I had a bit of writer's block after starting work on this, so it's coming out later than I had hoped. I still had fun writing it though! Hopefully you will enjoy... --- Simon arrived at the address, an apartment building on the other side of town to the office. He had stopped by his house to grab some equipment, so he was dragging a heavy sports bag around. He was full of energy, so he decided to run up the stairs. He realised after a couple of floors that this had been a stupid idea, but he was determined and made it to the fifth floor, out of breath but still nervous and excited. He made his way to door from the address and knocked twice. He didn't hear anything after a few seconds and impatiently tried the handle. It opened, and he stepped inside. "Hello! Dave, are you in there?" Simon heard a muffled voice from deeper inside the apartment. "Oh, hey buddy. Didn't expect you this soon." Simon smiled and walked in the direction of the voice, stepping over discarded clothing that would drown any normal sized person. The apartment was otherwise clean and quite nice, if a bit sparsely furnished. He reached the end of the corridor and turned the handle of what seemed to be the master bedroom door, opening it slowly. Sure enough, it was a huge bedroom. It was permeated with the musk of a man who hadn't showered in a couple of days. The king-sized bed looked like a single with the giant currently resting inside. Dave grinned at Simon from underneath the covers. He was sprawled out, his legs spread wide, his phone in his hand. His bare feet hung off the edge of the bed, as massive and covered in fur as the rest of the man, down to his thick, hairy toes. "Sorry, maybe I should have gotten dressed. It's tough because it's sore, you know." "No, that's fine. It, uh, will make it easier to do my job." Dave smirked. "Oh, cool. I guess I thought you might say something like that." He yawned and stretched. As he did so, his corded muscular arms were on full display, as were his bushy underarms. Catching a whiff of his armpit, he sniffed exaggeratedly. "Oh man. Sorry buddy. I get a little, uh, fragrant if I don't shower for more than a few hours. Hope you don't think that's gross." Simon swallowed. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure I'll be fine." Dave chuckled. "Yeah, I thought you might feel that way, too. Alright, buddy. How do you want to start?" And with a casual flick of his wrist, he flipped the covers off of the bed completely. He was wearing nothing but a jockstrap. It had a thick waist strap that had "XXXXXL" written in massive font. Simon recognised the logo as a brand of kink merchandise. Underneath was the strap was the biggest bulge Dave had ever seen. Simon stared at it intently. "I had to pay extra for this underwear. They're the only ones that fit," Dave explained, apologetically. "The cashier told me they're usually for guys who inject stuff into their ball sack. He probably thinks I'm a huge pervert," he said with an embarrassed smile. Simon chuckled awkwardly. "Give me 5 minutes, and I'll get started." Simon dumped his gear on the bed and unzipped the bag. "That's great. Where do you want to start? Maybe with my chest?" Simon was oiling up his hands, trying not to stare at his colleague. "Sure! That works." Once he was ready, he moved in towards the muscular man. Simon's slick hands gently made contact with one of the vast pillows of hairy muscle on Dave's chest. The upper layer was soft and bouncy. The oil slicked the man's dense hair, flattening it into swirling patterns as Simon gently but firmly ran his fingers across the surface. There was a lot of surface. Simon could easily fit both his palms on the man's pec with room to spare. The man had prominent nipples, but they were outclassed by the gigantic muscles they were attached to. Simon deliberately avoided them. he spent a few minutes landscaping the plane of hairy meat, feeling for spots that were particularly tense. He soon realised that the entire pec felt stiff. He began to knead the flesh more earnestly. Dave groaned loudly. "AAAAhhhhh, ugh ugh..." "Does it hurt?" Simon looked towards Dave's eyes. But they were closed, and he looked at peace. "It hurts in a good way, buddy. Don't stop." Simon turned his attention back to the muscle within his hands. Little by little, he rubbed and twisted the flesh beneath his finger tips. He could feel the iron hardness of the fibres under the surface start to give way ever so slightly. He began to relentlessly attack the stiffest parts with small, skilful strokes of his fingers. Dave sighed. The soreness hurt like a bitch, but this was like the opposite of that. In truth, it had been a long time since he had skin on skin contact with another person, but this felt even better than he remembered. He threw back one arm behind his head, inadvertently exposing Simon to his pit musk. Simon's nostrils flared and his cock throbbed as he focused on massaging that pec as loose as he could get it. It was staggering just how thick and dense it was. Simon had seen the pressing power it was capable of. It was strange, but arousing, to think of that power now, laying dormant beneath his hands. Simon methodically worked the pec until it was about as relaxed as he thought he could make it. Then he turned his attention to the other giant pec. He'd never touched a body as muscular as this one, but if anything it made it easier. Every shape was so pronounced that it was like handling a 3D anatomy chart. Although all that fur did get in the way. As Simon swept across the left pectoral, Dave threw back his head, his 5 o'clock shadow and Adam's apple very prominent. The smaller man's touches were awakening something in his loins. Dave had known it was probably inevitable when he agreed to this, but he was still a bit nervous about getting a hard-on in front of Simon. Everyone always made a scene whenever they first saw it. All the way back in high school, people gave him shit for it. It had always been obscene, poking its way out of any clothing he wore, almost as if in defiance. He'd hoped it would have gotten easier as he had grown older and his frame had expanded, but no such luck. If anything, now he was in his late 30s, it was worse. It seemed to grow bigger as he became taller. Even flaccid, it filled the fat pouch of the jockstrap completely. He groaned and shifted his hips as his cock outgrew its confinement. Meanwhile, Simon was grinding his fingers into the thick pec flesh while face-to-face with the musky curls of Dave's massive armpit. Every breath filled his lungs with Dave's scent and made his brain go fuzzy. He was beyond hard, his cock leaking into his underwear. He realised that he was getting close. Then, he felt something soft and warm "thwap" against the side of his leg and he froze. "Don't stop," Dave murmured. His mind was beginning to fill with dirty thoughts about his colleague. Dave hadn't had sex in a long time. His sex drive was quite high, and finding men or women to hook up with wasn't usually a problem, but the actual sex was generally unsatisfying. It usually ended in mutual masturbation as his partners couldn't take much of his mammoth organ. Christ, Dave thought as he became harder, it must have grown again. Last time he measured, it was 10 inches of beer-can thickness, but that was about a year ago. He'd had a grown spurt since then, so it was almost certainly bigger now. Simon had been rubbing his hands over the same spot for a few minutes as he surreptitiously glanced down at the man's crotch. Dave's cock was long and thick, the tip laying well beyond the man's navel. A generous foreskin bunched up over the fat, pink head that was peeking out amongst the folds of skin. A network of prominent veins criss-crossed the shaft, which had a slight curve to it. Simon tore his eyes away. "I think your chest is probably as good as I can get it. Where else is sore? Your arms maybe?" "Eh... honestly, the sorest part is probably my ass, buddy. Those squats destroyed me, haha. But I don't expect you to have to deal with that." "Hey, no problem. I can take a look." Dave chuckled. "Oh, really? Well, I should probably take care of something first." His cock throbbed, slapping audibly against his muscled stomach. "I can help with that, too." "Yeah, I bet you can." Dave's breath was heavy. Dave lay silently. He felt Simon's oily hands gently surround the shaft of thick flesh. Compared to the muscle of the man's upper body, this was a very different texture, and unmistakeably rock hard. Simon bit his lip running both hands along it. Dave threw back his head, suppressing a moan, as Simon explored the erect phallus in an awed silence. It was bigger than any other cock that Simon had ever encountered. It gave his toy collection a run for its money. He pressed his nose and lips against the head and took a deep breath, taking in the sensations, feeling the warmth of it press against his face. Gazing down his torso, Dave was taken back by the size contrast of his organ and Simon. It was considerably longer than the smaller man's face. Simon's eyes were closed like he was in rapture, but his hands kept moving, stimulating the behemoth underneath him. Dave let out a low growl of pure desire. His enormous muscles made him appear intimidating, but the soreness kept him somewhat bound to a relaxed position. Simon opened his eyes and engulfed the engorged head with his mouth. He was staring directly up at Dave's face, himself fully clothed. Simon couldn't believe the insane taper from Dave's waist to his chest and shoulders. Dave looked back into the man's eyes and felt his heart skip a beat. The smaller man looked vulnerable with his lips stretched wide. And then, Simon did something completely obscene. He rapidly swallowed as much of that enormous monster as he could. Dave gasped at the sensation, but also the depravity of the sight, his straight-laced colleague choking himself on Dave's raging cock. The man's throat seemed to bulge, and the cock inside throbbed, belching precum and making Simon moan in perverse pleasure. Simon kept forcing himself to choke on that cock. Nobody had ever done this to Dave before, and he began to subconsciously understand the kind of man that Simon was. The kind of man whose purpose in life was to worship men like Dave. "Let me give you a hand, buddy." Simon tried to respond, moaning something inaudible, as an enormous, hairy hand gripped his short hair firmly and began to apply unbelievable pressure. Simon found himself descending closer and closer to the jungle at the base of the enormous cock that was currently carving out space in his chest. He coughed and spluttered, spit falling out of his face and nose as he was filled with more cock than he had ever taken. His face was turning red as he dimly realised he had bottomed out a few inches short. The pressure on his head was unrelenting, but there was no more movement. Then suddenly, the pressure was gone, and Simon came up, gasping for air. "Holy fuck," Simon murmured in between coughing and spluttering. "That was hot as fuck." Dave watched with fascination. "Good to know, buddy. But you've still got a job to do." He gently slapped the hard, sloppy cock against Simon's face, to make a point. "So, better get on with it." Wordlessly, Simon began to suck Dave in earnest, his hands, face and throat giving Dave the most enthusiastic, sloppiest blowjob of his life. After a few minutes of intense oral stimulation, Dave's avacado-sized balls began to pull tight, and both men realised what was about to happen. "Gonna cum," Dave managed to articulate, seconds before Simon's respiratory tract was subjected to an enormous flood of semen. Dave's virile seed filled Simon to overflowing, literally, as pressurised cum fired painfully out of Simon's nose. The shock of it forced him to spit out the cock. Simon looked horrified, but Dave just chuckled heartily. For several seconds, the huge cock soaked Simon's clothes and his astonished face with spurt after spurt of cum. "Sorry, buddy... I tried to warn ya. Why don't you get us both cleaned up as best you can..."

Andy smiled as he looked his lover in the eyes, emerald staring defiantly back into the warm brown, fathomless abyss of Dan’s gaze. “Mmm… I can see that sir has had a rough day. I thought that I would show your coworkers just how…” He grinned sensually, biting his lower lip as he felt his feet touch the floor. “…beautiful the crown jewel of your collection is.” He chuckled as he ran his hand along Danny’s lantern jaw, feeling the rustle of the three days of stubble. “I don’t think that you should be making those decisions for yourself, little one.” Dan growled, his face crunching slightly as he furrowed his brow. His fingers cracked as the belt adjusted in his hand. “My clients are not my friends, and they are not other subs in my harem for you to tease.” His pecs swelled as his deep voice vibrated in Andy’s chest. Having lowered his tie, the top button of his dress shirt was visibly undone. Andy knew that Dan could never find shirts that fit in the chest, waist, arm, AND neck. One of them always had to be sacrificed to benefit the others. With the gusto with which he lifted, even tailored shirts didn’t work. He always outgrew something. The dangling brat hazarded a glance downward. Dan’s chest heaved, the light dusting of black hair on his pecs clearly visible. The breathing strained the second button, slowly opening it up. His skin was the same delicious tone all over, even and perfect. Dan didn’t believe in tanlines. With the quietest of pops, the button came free, slipping through the slit in the fabric. The shirt spread a little as Dan’s shoulders widened and his lats thickened. It was almost imperceptible. Andy chuckled, feeling his loins stir. Not being on the lookout for growth, he was paying closer attention to his lover’s arm. The thick bicep throbbed and trembled a little. Both men thought that Dan was holding 275 pounds, but they were both wrong. In the short drive home, the workout, and the snack preparation, Andy had swollen to a more-than-healthy 290. On a smaller man, fifteen pounds of sudden gain would have been immediately noticeable. Andy, on the other hand, took it in stride. He thought he had an amazing, lingering pump from his gym session. “Danny… you seem to be having some trouble holding me up…” Andy grinned as his feet grew and touched the floor, which he interpreted as Dan’s iron arm relaxing. “My feet are on the floor now. You’re not going…” His feet pressed harder as his vantage point changed to one where his sharp eyes looked down into those of his lover. “…soft on me, are you?” He smiled a shit-eating grin at Danny, tapping his toes on the floor. His sir had been a soft dom for years, which Andy loved. Dan never yelled, never shamed, never hit, pinched, or restrained him when it was unwelcome… but his punishments were always exquisitely painful. Andy thought of the toybox here, upstairs in The Room. Sir knew how to please and demanded pleasure in return. Andy gave his lower lip a sensual bite. His gaze devoured every inch of his larger lover. He gave a needy little growl, hoping that the medicine he had slipped into the milk would activate soon, driving his man to be more forceful. Still, the slight pulse of pleasure from the teasing bounced through Andy. He practically purred as his feet planted themselves even more firmly on the floor, long legs getting longer. With a low, rumbling growl, Dan met Andy’s eyes. The second button popped open, revealing even more of his hairy chest. With a yank, Andy felt himself snatched closer to Dan, nose to nose. “Soft?” The whisper may as well have been a battle cry for how it rumbled in the room. Andy shivered as he heard the tinkle of the crystal in the chandelier. This time it was impossible to chalk up to imagination. The glass had moved, the light dancing lightly around the room. “My little Hercules… I am never soft when it comes to you.” The level of their gazes swapped as now Dan looked down at Andy. There was a loud sound of ripping as the button-down shirt split down the bigger man’s back, revealing his wide lats and thick traps. He grinned as he felt the air in the room blow through his lightly curled back hair. With a light flare of his back, Dan pushed the shirt more apart, tearing it. His shoes squeaked as he flexed his powerful feet. Andy moaned and reached down for Dan’s chest and his own bulge. The bigger man gave another growl as his pecs bulged forwards, pressing against his little Hercules more. Their chests fought for space as Dan popped his own pecs. His lips pulled back in a light sneer as Andy’s fingertips lightly touched the fabric of his tearing shirt. “No.” Andy stopped his hand at the command. “You may not touch yourself, or me. Not yet.” With a series of loud snaps, the laces on the dress shoes popped open, the leather tongue forced up as Dan arched his powerful foot. Andy was unable to resist at that, his hand snapping directly to his lover’s chest and giving an almost lewd squeeze. His fingers pressed into the powerful pectoral, the meaty muscle overflowing his fingers some. “Couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, could you?” Dan dropped Andy, who fell to his knees. “I thought you were stronger than that, little Hercules.” He arched an eyebrow. The bigger man gripped his lover’s chin with his thick mitt, forcing green eyes to lock on hessonite. Andy felt his cock stretch out, pushing his robe open. Dan’s thick fingers pressed on Andy’s jawline, and the smaller man could swear that he could feel the digits thicken. “Push-up position, please. You need to show me that you’re still as strong as I remember.” Dan slipped his left foot from his shoe as Andy rose into a perfect push-up. With a light motion, he pressed down on his lover’s back like Steve had done all those years ago. His thick calf bulged in his dress pants as he flexed his big toe, ostensibly pushing down with only a little force. Andy grunted as he dropped to the floor and began to press upwards against his dom’s foot. “You… can’t… hold me… down…” His arms shook some and his pecs screamed. He hadn’t thought that sir would push down hard. “I think I can.” Dan whispered, looking at the man on the floor. He huffed some as his shirt ripped even more, bicep peaks tearing the sleeves. He groaned as his own thick member swelled, creeping down his right leg. The log of his manhood was pressed outward as his thigh bulked up and he heard the seams on his slacks starting to pop. Dan could feel that he was growing, but he didn’t know that he had swollen a full twenty-five pounds to 350. His growth was faster than his littler lover’s, having been given a larger dose than the smaller man. “No… you… can’t… I’m… Hercules…” Andy roared as he pushed harder, rising more as his own back spread wider. Dan’s eyes widened as he felt the thick muscle under his foot ripple and spread. “My little Hercules… you’re a demigod facing off against a titan.” At that, Dan pressed down harder, using his entire foot. He had to test what he thought he saw. “You should know better than to fight against me.” “I’m… strong enough… to lift your… leg!” With a growl, Andy locked out his arms, his horseshoe triceps bulging behind him. He panted some, the start of a light sweat on his brow. Dan looked down at him in his fluffy robe. He could see how it had ridden up on Andy’s legs and thick ass. His traps were clearly visible, mountains of muscle bulging high on either side of his neck that split his robe open. No doubt about it, his boyfriend was most definitely growing larger. And not just from working out. This was more instantaneous, more erotic, the wet dream of bodybuilders and muscle worshippers the world around. But he didn’t want this to be a worldwide dream. He wanted this to belong to him, and him alone. “I know you can lift my leg when I rest it on you. What about when I really… push?” He ratcheted up the force of his leg and pressed down on Andy’s wide back. His heel pushed between his lover’s back muscles, sinking between the bulging, swelling lats. A deep growl rumbled out from Dan’s throat, resonating in his chest. The bigger man felt a rush of energy as his leg bulged, pushing on his littler lover. He heard the threads on his slacks pop and snap, the seams starting to tear as he felt his quads bulge with a pump. Even seated, he could feel the power of his leg inexorably rising. Something inside of him was telling him that he shouldn’t quite heave the leverage to push like this while in his office chair. Dan’s fingers flexed and cracked as they dug into the leather of the armrests. He could feel the wood creaking under the pressure. Andy was still pushing. Unbelievably, the smaller man was slowly moving towards locking out his elbows. “I’m… getting stronger… for you!” Andy roared as he straightened his arms. He groaned as his chest pulsed and bulged obscenely, pushing the robe all the way open. The fabric framed his massive pecs like fluffy pink icing, just barely teasing at his slightly brown nipples. “Sir… you deserve the best… and the best… demands… THE BEST!” Andy roared as he locked out his elbows, the robe slipping from his cannonball shoulders and revealing the top third of his wide, rippling back. He moaned as his cock throbbed, dripping in his underwear. He looked up at his Sir and grinned. Dan’s powerful pecs blocked more of his face than Andy had ever seen from this angle before, and he knew that he wanted even more. “Are you the best, daddy, if I can do a pushup against your thunder thigh?” he growled with a smile. Dan’s eyes widened slightly as he watched the smaller man’s body stretch taller under him. “Are you really sure you’re still the best?” In an instant, Andy was on his back on the floor as Dan slammed down onto him, pinning the lab tech down. He had barely realized that Dan’s foot had slid from his back to his chest and flipped him like a pancake before he was pinned by his wrists to the carpet. He shuddered as he realized that, even in this boosted state, he still wasn’t as strong as his dom. At least, not when he was really trying. His sir’s thick mitt encircled both of his wrists with practiced ease, the fingers and thumb of a single hand locking the smaller man’s arms in place. Andy arched his back under the weight of the heavier man as he felt the free hand slide down to his ass, giving the swollen globe a hard squeeze. He bit his lip, certain that the tight squeeze would leave a handprint shaped bruise. His eyes danced as he bucked his hips some, the prospect of a mark that would last at least a month on him making his brain boil. His toes flared and curled as his man leaned down to his ear, hot breath smelling of strawberry milk and cookies. “I can do this to you with a touch, and you dare question if I’m still the best there is, little man?” That was all it took for Andy’s resistance to dissolve. With a low moan that rattled the light fixtures as it escalated to a yowl of pleasure, he came. Dan only smiled.

Chapter 23: New Order The morning sun broke over the ‘H’ estate as Rick stepped into his new role as CEO. Tribe Enterprises, with its headquarters nestled in the lower left wing of the sprawling ‘H,’ stretched before him like a vast kingdom. Its three thriving branches—Tribe Builders, Tribe Landscaping, and Tribe Movers—stood ready for his leadership. The transition to this position had been swift, but Rick was no stranger to stepping into uncharted territory. Now, he was not only at the helm of a growing empire but also joining a tribe of men bound by muscle, discipline, and drive. Walking through the complex that morning, his head held high, it felt like destiny calling. His first week as CEO had been nothing short of a whirlwind. Hadi, founder and Chairman of the company, had taken Rick under his wing, giving him an intense crash course on every facet of the business. Meetings filled his schedule—he met with company leaders, foremen, financial heads, managers, and even a few key clients. By the end of the week, Rick had gained a clearer understanding of the immense responsibility on his shoulders. But today—Saturday—marked the start of something even bigger. His body and soul were about to be tested in a way he had never experienced before. This morning, Rick was set to meet his team in Tribe Bodybuilding. Though he had already built a strong foundation as an amateur bodybuilder, today marked the beginning of his journey toward his goal of competing—and winning—his first competition. As part of his CEO contract, Rick had been offered a home in the upper right wing of the ‘H,’ a deal too good to refuse. The location was strategic—it placed him among neighbors like Manuel & Javier and Dr. Min & Luis, men who understood both the demands of business and the pursuit of physical excellence. Until his townhouse mansion was constructed, Rick was staying in one of the estate’s guest apartments. The space was modest and minimalist, but it suited him perfectly for the months ahead. When he needed a change of pace, he still had his homes in Aspen and Miami waiting for him. Today, though, corporate growth and home construction were the furthest things from his mind. Today was about the muscle. He was meeting Big Ryan, the Tribe’s towering monolith and head of Tribe Bodybuilding. Together, they would lay the foundation for Rick’s next chapter—not just as a CEO but as a man stepping into the world of bodybuilding. The Beast and the Blueprint Rick stood in the doorway of the gym, eyes locking onto Big Ryan as the giant moved effortlessly across the room. At 6’6” and a monstrous 485 pounds of solid muscle, Ryan was unlike anything Rick had ever seen in person. His presence sucked the air from the room, every step making the floor creak under his weight. His muscles weren’t just big—they were grotesquely massive, bulging under his skin like they were trying to break free. Ryan looked over, his blue eyes piercing. "Rick. Ready for this." There was no question. Only a command. Rick nodded, not trusting his voice to keep steady. He’d built himself into something impressive over the last year, but standing in front of Ryan made him feel small—smaller than he'd ever felt before. Ryan motioned him over, his long, thick fingers tapping the clipboard in his hand. “Here’s how it’s gonna work. We’re not just building muscle. We’re building discipline, precision. I don’t give a fuck what you used to do. That’s over. You’re mine now.” Ryan flipped through a few pages, his eyes never leaving Rick. “We’re focusing on size and strength for now. You’ve got the base but we need some more mass to bring up your weaker zones. Zane and Malik are gonna push you harder than you’ve ever been pushed, but it’ll work. No bullshit training here—no ego lifts, no skipping leg day. You’re gonna puke, and then you’re gonna lift through it.” Rick nodded, his heart already racing. The gravity of what he was getting into was sinking in. Ryan’s face softened, only slightly. “We’ll tweak as we go. I’ll be overseeing your progress weekly. If I see you slacking, I’ll break you. Understand?” “Got it,” Rick breathed. Ryan’s smirk was terrifying. “Good. Now go meet Zane and Malik. They’re waiting for you.” Enter Zane and Malik Zane was standing by the bench press area, his body a masterpiece of dense, compact muscle. At 6’1” and 375 pounds of pure, solid mass, he was built like a tank, every inch of him oozing power. His tattooed 24-inch arms hung by his sides like they were too heavy to lift without effort. Malik, taller and leaner but equally as formidable, was setting up the bar for their first workout. His dark skin gleamed with sweat, his 325-pound frame already pumped and ready for the punishment to come. They both turned as Rick approached. "Hope you had a big breakfast," Zane said with a wicked grin. "You're gonna need it." Malik just nodded, his face unreadable. “Ryan told us to destroy you. We’re gonna follow orders.” Without another word, Zane loaded the bench press bar with 315 pounds, motioning for Rick to step up. “Warm up.” Rick blinked. “Warm up?” “Yeah. Let’s go.” The bar was heavy, but manageable. Rick unracked it and dropped into the first rep. His arms trembled slightly, the weight testing his strength. By the tenth rep, he felt the burn. But Zane wasn’t impressed. “Good. Now another set,” Zane ordered, tossing another two plates on the bar, pushing it to 405 pounds. This was where the real work began. Rick’s pecs and triceps were shaking by the eighth rep. Zane barked out another order. "Three more, let’s go. Get it done." Rick grunted through the pain, his muscles screaming. He fought through the last three reps, his entire body drenched in sweat by the time the bar hit the rack. "That was your warm-up sets," Malik said, barely acknowledging Rick’s obvious exhaustion. The next two hours were a blur of agony. Zane and Malik put him through hell—flat bench, inclines, declines, weighted dips, skull crushers, pressdowns, each set more brutal than the last. His muscles ached in ways he hadn’t known possible, every fiber of his body screaming for mercy. But there was no mercy. Not here. Rick collapsed onto the bench after their final set of close-grip bench presses, his chest and arms so pumped that they felt like they were going to burst through his skin. His lungs were burning, his vision slightly blurred. Zane threw him a towel and smirked. "Good job, big guy. You’re tough. I’ll give you that. But we’re just getting started." Malik stood over him, offering a hand. “You did good today. But this was nothing. Ryan wants you in the dirt this month before we start carving you up. So get ready.” Rick could barely nod as Malik hauled him to his feet. “You’re going to Hank next. He’ll make sure your body doesn’t fall apart on day one,” Malik said, wiping the sweat from his own massive body and already moving on to rack the weights. The Hands of Hank The massage room was dim, warm, and empty, the air thick with the scent of eucalyptus and muscle—a sanctuary for Rick after the brutal workout that had left his body trembling with exhaustion. His shirt clung to him, drenched in sweat, muscles swollen, veins pulsing beneath his skin like they were about to burst. He pulled it off slowly, every movement sharp with tightness from his overly pumped muscles, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. Hank walked in from a back entrance to the room, looking like a boulder carved from granite. “Hey Rick, I’m Hank,” he said with a comforting smile in his southern accent, “Go ahead and strip down to whatever you feel comfortable and we’ll start face down on the table, big guy,” Hank rumbled, his voice a low drawl that vibrated through the room, settling into Rick's already worn muscles. “Zane and Malik did a number on ya, huh?” Rick let out a breathy laugh, wincing as his pecs twitched. “You could say that. My pecs have never felt like this before.” Hank's lips curled into a grin. "Good. Means you're ready for me now.” Rick slowly stood and shimmied off his shorts and sweaty jock and socks, his musky scent adding another layer to the room as Hank took in the considerable size of the big man overall and the exceedingly thick manhood swinging soft between his quads, thicker than a fucking beer can with a fat vein running from the base to the enormous mushroom head. Rick caught the stare, he expected it and was used to it. Men stared in awe at his freakishly thick cock all the time in the locker rooms no matter their orientation, it was a sight to behold. Rick eased himself onto the massage table, face down, the cool sheets against his skin. His body felt heavy, like a dead weight, every muscle screaming as he adjusted his thick meat and sweaty balls to point down between his muscular quads. Hank's footsteps were slow, and deliberate as he approached. Then, without another word, Hank’s hands descended—big, rough, and warm—onto Rick’s back, spreading the hot oil and pressing into his traps with a firmness that sent a shiver through his core. The touch was electric, a mix of pain and something else, something deeper. Hank worked his way down Rick's back, his palms kneading into the thick cords of muscle with an intensity that bordered on violence. Hank attacked every knot and every line of tension with precision. Rick groaned, his head buried in the circular face holder, the sound muffled but unmistakable. “Shit…” Rick breathed, his voice raw as Hank’s fingers dug into a knot just below his left shoulder blade. The pain was intense, sharp, but underneath it, there was a heat—slow, rising—spreading through his body. “Goddamn…” that felt good. Hank grinned above him, his hands moving lower, pressing harder. “Yeah, feel that, don’t ya?” Hank’s voice was thick, low, like molasses. “This is where it starts, man. Right here. Gonna break that tension down ‘til there’s nothin’ left but these big muscles of yours.” Rick’s body was reacting now, the pain starting to blur into something more. His skin tingled under Hank’s touch, every press of those strong, calloused hands sending shockwaves through his system. Hank worked his way down, his palms kneading into Rick's lower back, then moving to his waist, thumbs grazing along the ridges of his obliques. Rick’s breathing slowed, his chest heaving against the table. It was impossible to fight the sensation creeping through him, this blend of pain, heat, and relief. He’d had many massages in his time but nothing hit him like this. His thick cock hardened but his body softened under Hank’s expert touch, the tension dissolving, his mind slipping into something more primal. “Good man, just relax, I got you,” Hank muttered, voice a gravelly purr, fingers slipping lower, tracing the edges of Rick’s hips, working the tightness out of his powerful glutes. His palms spread wide, pushing into the dense, throbbing muscles, making Rick grunt involuntarily. The push of the muscles rolling his body on the table put pressure and movement on his now throbbing thick meat which was locked down, painfully, pointing towards his feet. Rick felt a jolt of heat flash through him, his thighs twitching as Hank worked deeper down into his hamstrings. There was something about the way Hank’s hands moved—confident, knowing, like he could read every inch of Rick’s body, every need, every reaction. It was more than just a massage now; it was a slow, deliberate unraveling of control. “Relax, slow breaths,” Hank commanded softly, his voice a growl that vibrated through Rick’s bones. “Let it go. I’ll take care of ya.” Rick's breath came in slow gasps, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as Hank’s hands pushed further, deeper into his muscles, almost too deep. His body quivered, a low, guttural moan slipping from his lips, barely controlled. His mind swam in the intensity of it—pain mixing with pleasure, need with relief. Hank’s hands were everywhere now, sliding over him, pressing, pulling, making Rick feel small under his sheer strength. Hank leaned down, his breath hot against the back of Rick’s neck. “Feel that? That’s power. That's what we’re buildin' here. You give it to me, I give it back.” Rick couldn’t respond, his body shaking under the relentless force of Hank’s hands. His back arched involuntarily as Hank's fingers dug deep into his inner quads, pushing into places Rick didn’t even know were tight. His skin was slick with oil and sweat now, heat building in every corner of his body, his muscles pliant under Hank’s hands, his throbbing fat cock sensitive to every glance and touch. Hank’s fingers slid lower, gripping his calves and feet with a roughness that made Rick groan again, his breath coming faster. Hank raised the right foot, bending and stretching the quad as he lifted up which pushed the throbbing fat cock against the firm table as a glob of precum erupted out of the humongous head freeing the river flow behind it. Hank expertly repeated the move with his other leg, his eyes glued to the freakishly thick cock, ‘jesus, I’ve never seen a cock that thick before,’ he thought as he unconsciously licked his lips as the thick flow of pre-cum leaked onto the sheet. The tension, the soreness, everything was slipping away, leaving Rick raw, exposed. Hank’s touch was pulling him apart piece by piece, stripping him down to nothing but flesh, muscle and nerve, pain and heat. “Damn, you’re tight,” Hank growled, his voice a low rumble as his hands slid back up to Rick’s shoulders, squeezing hard enough to make his muscles twitch. "But we'll get ya loose. We'll get ya right.” Rick exhaled, his body sinking into the table, giving in completely. Rick’s body felt molten, his muscles like putty under Hank’s strong hands, melting away all the tension, all the soreness, leaving him in a dazed, almost trance-like state. Hank’s grip was relentless, each press forcing out groans from deep in Rick’s throat, his breaths growing heavy, ragged. Every touch lit up his nerves, every knead of those massive hands was like fire spreading across his skin. He wasn’t even sure where the pain ended and the pleasure began anymore. Hank’s voice broke through the haze, low and commanding. “Ok, big man, roll over.” Rick obeyed, barely able to lift himself and Hank helped as he clumsily repositioned himself. His body was shaky, limbs weak from the punishing workout and the brutal relief Hank was unleashing. He turned onto his back, muscles rippling beneath his flushed skin, sweat glistening under the low light. His chest heaved, the pump from the earlier training session still swollen and tight, his hairy pecs pulsed, veins snaking over his skin like thick cords. Hank’s eyes trailed down Rick’s body, his lips curling into that slow, dangerous grin. "Damn, look at you," he muttered, Rick’s freakishly thick cock was rock hard and throbbing and Hank gave it a single friendly stroke. Hank had seen his fair share of hard cocks in his experience, but Rick’s was one of the thickest he had ever seen looking like an extra large beer can from the thick base to that giant meaty mushroom head. It ballooned out even more in the middle with a thick rope of a vein snaking across the top and laying like a pipeline from the base to just below the head. While his eyes were drooling over that cock, his hands moved to Rick’s furry pecs like he was claiming them, thumbs pressing into the thick muscle, feeling the hardness, the density. “You’re gonna fuckin’ grow, man. I can feel it.” Rick let out a sharp breath as Hank’s fingers dug into his bloated, pumped pecs, the pain immediate but so damn good. His muscles twitched involuntarily under Hank’s hands, the soreness flaring up before the release hit him like a wave, crashing over him, pulling him deeper into the sensation. Hank leaned in closer, his breath hot against Rick’s skin. His hands worked with brutal efficiency, squeezing, kneading, and manipulating the swollen pec muscle until every fiber screamed for more. "You feelin’ that?" “F-fuck,” Rick gasped, his voice breaking, the words strangled. His chest heaved against Hank’s powerful hands, the sensation so intense it felt like his skin was on fire, like every nerve was alive, burning. “God, yeah…” Hank’s grin widened, his palms sliding lower, pushing into the center of Rick’s chest, large strong fingers spreading wide as he applied more pressure enclosing the thick nipples. Rick’s back arched off the table, his body reacting before his mind could catch up, the sharp flare of pain mixing with something far more dangerous, far more primal. “Let it out,” Hank rumbled, his voice thick, deep. “You’re on the edge, ain’t ya? Let it fuckin’ out.” Rick’s eyes fluttered shut, his breath coming in short, hard bursts. He could feel the tension building in his heavy balls, his huge cock was aching and he could feel the release coming like a freight train, unstoppable. His body was betraying him now, the heat in his chest spreading lower, pooling in his gut, thick and heavy. Hank’s hands pressed harder, sliding over his hairy pumped pecs, squeezing until the muscle felt like it would explode. Each squeeze was a slow, deliberate torture, pushing Rick closer and closer to the edge. His breath hitched, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "F-fuck," he gasped, his voice rough with need. And then, something snapped. A primal scream tore from Rick's throat as the dam broke. His hips bucked off the table, arching his back in a violent spasm. The release hit him like a tidal wave, a tsunami of sensation that washed over him, leaving him gasping for air. His breath stopped, chest heaving in uneven gasps, his entire body convulsing. His massive thick cock throbbed, each pulse sending a jolt through his body. Ropes of hot cum erupted, hitting his face and mouth, spraying across his bloated hairy pecs, slicking his ripped abs, some even landing on the floor with a soft plop. He tasted the metallic tang of his own seed, the flavor tangy and sweet on his tongue. Hank didn't stop. His hands remained locked on Rick's chest, massaging through the tremors, tweaking the meaty nipples, each squeeze drawing out another guttural moan, another shudder that racked Rick's body. “Good job, big man,” Hank muttered, his voice almost a growl now, his eyes locked on Rick’s massive cock, watching him come undone beneath his touch. “That’s it. Let it all out.” Rick’s body convulsed, his fingers gripping the edges of the massage table as his chest heaved, the release overwhelming, the sensation too intense to control. His body was a storm, every muscle firing, every nerve alight. Hank’s hands slowed, the pressure easing as Rick’s breath finally steadied, his body collapsing back against the table in a mess of sweat and spent energy. He was done. Completely spent. As Hank’s rough hands lingered on his chest, tracing the lines of his pecs and nipples, Rick could feel the raw satisfaction of having nothing left to give. "That’s what you needed," Hank murmured, his voice softer now, more satisfied. “You need to give up that control man. Welcome to the Tribe, big guy, make sure you drink lots of water today and there are clean towels for the showers here on the shelf. Now relax as long as you like, I’m going to step next door to get ready for my next client.” Hank reached out and gave the humongous thick cock a light stroke, marveling at the sheer size of it, unable to get his big hand around the huge girth, as it still throbbed and leaked cum, before leaving through the back entrance of the room.

Dear readers After I got a lot of messages to send the story 'Classroom muscle tease' (again) and to put it back online, I decided to make a new account and put it back on here. I changed it here and there after some of your feedback, because after quite a lot of rewriting, there were some details that were not correct anymore, because I hadn't changed them along. I hope it is a bit better now like this. Before You read the story, I state hear loud and clear that I used AI for instructions and impulses for good writing and to help me structure the story and give me story advice (caracters, plots, cliffhangers, ...). The story line and the ideas, the caracters etc., however, are products of my own imagination. According to the mod, therefore the story belongs in this section and not in the AI section. I would also be very okay with it if the story needs to be moved, because 'some' level op AI is involved. I leave this decision to the mod. I'm also asking the moderator to please remove my 'old' topic, like he already proposed. I also used translation and grammar software, because English is not my own language. All constructive criticism is welcome. Anyone that does not like the above, please don't read this story. For everyone else: enjoy reading it and forgive any typos and / or grammar mistakes. If you want, I have 2 new chapters, but there is still very much rewriting to be done. ------------------------------------------------------------- "Hey, Mr. Castellanos, check this out," Derek said, flexing his biceps with a smirk. The classroom buzzed with the typical Monday morning chatter, but he knew that his muscular arm would draw the attention of the one person who mattered most—his math teacher, Mr. Castellanos. Derek had been eyeing the handsome, slightly older man with a burning desire since the first day of school, and he was determined to make the teacher's heart race just as fast as his own during their lessons. Mr. Castellanos glanced up from his paper work, his eyes lingering for a moment on Derek's bulging biceps before quickly shifting away. "Not now, Derek. We're about to start class," the teacher replied, his voice a mix of reprimand and restrained curiosity. Derek grinned to himself, knowing very well he had piqued the man's interest. He sat back in his chair, flexing his chest muscles subtly beneath his tight school polo, the fabric straining to contain his impressive physique. "Not bad for a guy that redently turned 18, huh?", Derek thought to himself. As Mr. Castellanos began explaining algebra equations on the blackboard, Derek leaned back in his chair, his forearms resting on the desk. He flexed them ever so slightly, the veins popping and the muscles rippling like waves in the ocean. The room grew a few degrees hotter as the teacher's gaze flickered down to the mesmerizing display, his own breath hitching for a brief moment. Derek's grin grew wider as he caught Mr. Castellanos's eyes lingering longer than they should. He knew the teacher was trying to keep his cool, but the way his pupils dilated and his Adam's apple bobbed suggested a different internal narrative. The sound of the chalk on the board seemed to echo louder as the tension grew. Derek leaned forward, his forearms flexing more dramatically. He began to tap his fingers, the muscles dancing with a tantalizing rhythm that seemed to sync with the teacher's pulse. Mr. Castellanos paused in the middle of his sentence, swallowed hard and took a step away from the board to regain his composure. His eyes darted back to Derek's arms, the veins standing out like a roadmap to pleasure, the muscles bulging with power. The young bodybuilder noticed the teacher's clear discomfort and felt a thrill of victory. He knew Mr. Castellanos was trying to resist, but the might of Derek's body was too much. Derek leaned closer, the fabric of his sleeves stretching tight against his skin, the outline of his forearms stark and defined. The scent of his sweat and the faint hint of cologne filled the air, a mix that seemed to thicken the very oxygen in the classroom. Mr. Castellanos cleared his throat and tried to resume the lesson, but his hand shook slightly as he wrote on the board. The sight of his student's arms, so close, so powerful, was distracting. He found himself imagining what it would be like to feel those muscles under his own touch, to trace the veins with his fingertips, to explore the strength that lay beneath the surface. Derek's flexing grew more deliberate, his wrists rotating, making the forearms bulge. The teacher's eyes darted back and forth, trying to focus on his work but drawn inexorably back to the show of strength before him. The room was silent except for the sound of Mr. Castellanos's hand moving across the board. His mind was racing, trying to think of a way to regain control of the situation, but all he could think about was the seductive dance of Derek's forearms. The rest of the class was oblivious to the silent war of wills playing out in the front row. Derek leaned back again, the muscles in his arms relaxing, and Mr. Castellanos took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm his racing mind. The bell finally rang, and the class erupted into the usual activity's as students gathered their things. Derek took his sweet time, making sure his teacher had a full view of his retreating back and the muscles that played beneath his shirt. As the last student left, Mr. Castellanos turned to face the empty room, his heart thundering in his chest. He knew that the battle for his self-control had just begun, and he was already losing. The following morning, Derek arrived at school with a new plan. His forearms were already fully pumped from a morning workout, and he had brought two tourniquets in his backpack. During the math lesson, he waited for the perfect moment when Mr. Castellanos had his back turned to the class, engrossed in solving a complex equation on the board. Quickly, Derek slipped the tourniquets onto his upper arms, just below the biceps, and tightened them as much as he could stand without cutting off circulation. The effect was immediate and dramatic—his forearms bulged and swelled, the veins becoming hyper pronounced and snaking like rivers across his taut skin. As the teacher turned to address the class again, Derek leaned back in his chair, casually placing his arms on the desk. The fabric of his polo tightened around his biceps, which now looked like they could burst from his sleeves. He began flexing again, the cords of his forearms standing out like ropes against the stark white of his shirt. He watched Mr. Castellanos's reflection in the window, the teacher's eyes growing wider as he took in the magnificent sight before him. The classroom's temperature seemed to rise drastically. Mr. Castellanos's voice faltered slightly as he called on a student for the answer. Derek knew he had his full attention now. He flexed his fingers, making the muscles in his forearms spasm and bulge in a mesmerizing display of power. The teacher's gaze was drawn to the spectacle, his eyes tracing the lines and contours of Derek's arms with a hunger that was becoming increasingly difficult to hide. Derek felt a thrill of power surge through him, knowing that he had the upper hand in this silent game of seduction. As the class progressed, Derek changed his flexes, sometimes going for dramatic poses that caused his shirt to ride up and reveal a breathtaking strip of toned abs. The sound of his muscles shifting and contracting was like a wet dream to Mr. Castellanos, who found his eyes straying more and more often to the student's arms. Each flex brought a new wave of elektricity to the room, a delicious promise of what could happen next. Derek's heart pounded in his chest, his body responding to the thrill of the chase as much as the teacher's growing attraction. And all this time, none of the other students notices a thing. The final bell of the day couldn't come soon enough for Derek. He had pushed the limits of his teacher's self-control, and he knew that the next move had to be decisive. So, the next day, Derek went way further in his seduction. He wore a tank top to school, the fabric clinging to every inch of his chiseled torso. The classroom was hot, the heat of the afternoon sun beating down on them, and it wasn't just from the weather outside. He made sure to sit at the desk closest to Mr. Castellanos's, his muscles gleaming with a light sheen of sweat. Every time the teacher walked by, Derek would subtly flex his arms or pecs, the fabric stretching to its limits over his bulging body. Mr. Castellanos tried to keep calm, but the way his eyes kept drifting to Derek's arms betrayed his struggle. The young bodybuilder seamed to have no care in the world, casually placing his bare feet on the chair next to him, flexing his calves. The fabric of his shorts strained against his huge legs, the outline of his quads and hamstrings on full display. The teacher's gaze lingered longer than it should have, his breathing growing more shallow as he took in the view. Mr. Castellanos's hand hovered over the whiteboard marker, his knuckles white from the effort of not reaching out to touch Derek's stomach. His voice was a hoarse whisper as he tried to keep the lesson going, but his eyes kept drifting back to the student's body. Derek felt a surge of power as he watched the man's resistance fade, drop by drop. He knew that the next move would be the one that broke the dam, and he was more than ready to be the flood that washed away his teacher's resistance. The other pupils remained blissfully unaware of the silent seduction playing out at the front of the room. Engrossed in their own schoolwork or daydreams, they were oblivious to the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Derek's flexing had become a silent orchestra, each bulge and twitch of muscle speaking volumes to the man who knew what it meant. Mr. Castellanos's eyes flickered between the equations on the board and Derek's torso, his heart racing in his chest and adrenaline pumping through his veins. Derek leaned forward, planting his elbows on the desk. He flexed his abs once more, the muscles popping out in a beautiful show that made Mr. Castellanos's hand shake. The room grew quieter, the only sound the faint rustle of paper and the occasional cough. The teacher's eyes followed the lines of Derek's body, tracing the path of sweat down his chest, the fabric of his tank top clinging to his ultra thin skin. The moment was electric, the air charged with power. Derek knew he had the teacher right where he wanted him. He slowly reached for his water bottle, his biceps bulging as he lifted it to his mouth. The motion was deliberate, a show of strength and control. He took a sip, the muscles in his throat moving with the same seductive grace as the rest of his body. As he set the bottle back down, his hand brushed slightly against Mr. Castellanos's arm, enough to make the teacher's heart skip a beat or two. The other students continued their work, oblivious to what was happening before there very eyes. Derek leaned back in his chair, his abs tightening as he whispered, "You know, Mr. Castellanos, I've been working out a lot. I bet you didn't know I had this kind of power, huh?" Mr. Castellanos couldn't help but stare at the young man's sculpted chest, the fabric of the tank top stretched taut over his pectorals. He swallowed hard, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't betray his growing arousal. "It's...it's very impressive, Derek," he managed, his voice hoarse. "Thanks, I think so too," Derek said, his eyes beaming with mischief. He leaned closer, his abs flexing with every word. "But you know what's even more impressive?" He paused for a beat, letting the tension build. "How much I want to show you everything I can do." His words were a whisper, a promise that hung in the air between them. Mr. Castellanos's eyes flicked to Derek's crotch, where the outline of an erection was beginning to form. He felt his own cock twitch in response, and he knew he was losing the battle. The teacher took a step back, trying to compose himself. "Class is almost over, Derek," he whispered, his voice weaker than he would have liked. "We should focus on the lesson." But Derek was relentless. He leaned back, his legs spreading slightly, and began to rub his now-hard cock over the rock-hard landscape of his pumped forearms. The friction was exquisite, sending waves of pleasure through his body. His eyes never left Mr. Castellanos's, holding his gaze with the same intensity he used when lifting weights. Derek's cock grew even harder as he felt the power he had over the teacher. Each stroke was deliberate, each flex calculated to drive the man before him wild with lust. The classroom was filled with desire, the walls closing in as the heat of their passion grew more intense. Mr. Castellanos's eyes were glued to Derek's arms, the muscles bulging as he pleasured himself. The sight was like nothing he had ever seen before—so raw, so unashamed and erotic. His own cock strained against his pants, begging for relief. He knew he should say something, do something, but all he could manage was a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Derek's strokes grew faster, his breathing heavier. The sight of Mr. Castellanos's hand on his desk, so close to his own aching arousal, was too much to bear. He stood, his chair scraping against the floor. The classroom was still, every student engrossed in their work, oblivious to the scene unfolding before them. Derek approached the teacher's desk, his abs tight and his cock standing at full attention. "Do you want to see more?" he asked. Mr. Castellanos looked up, his eyes glazed with lust. He nodded, unable to find the words to express his desperation. Derek stepped closer, his cock mere inches from the teacher's hand. He leaned over the desk, his muscles rippling as he did so. His heart raced, the anticipation of the moment driving him to the brink of insanity. He knew that once this line was crossed, there would be no way back. The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and the students began to pack up their things. As the last student exited the classroom, Mr. Castellanos slammed the door shut and turned the lock with shaking hands. The sound echoed through the now-deserted hallway, a declaration of their intentions. The teacher took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Derek stepped closer, the heat from his body washing over Mr. Castellanos like a wave. He leaned in, his flexed arm brushing against the teacher's chest. "I've got something to show you," he murmured, his voice sweet as ice cream on a hot summer's day. Mr. Castellanos nodded, his heart pounding in his ears. He knew what was coming, and he was powerless to resist. With a flick of his wrist, Derek removed the tourniquets, his forearms exploding with newfound blood flow. The muscles bulged, the veins standing out like a map of desire. Mr. Castellanos reached out, his hand hovering over the bulging bicep. Derek leaned into the touch, his cock pulsing in response. The teacher's hand was warm, oft, but Derek could feel the need in it. He took the teacher's wrist, guiding his hand up and down the length of his flexed forearm. Mr. Castellanos's eyes widened as he felt the power beneath his fingertips. He had never been with a man before, but in that moment, he knew that he needed Derek like he needed air to breathe. He looked up into the young bodybuilder's eyes, seeing the hunger reflected in them. Derek stepped closer, his cock now pressing against Mr. Castellanos's thigh. The teacher's hand moved of its own accord, reaching for the bulge in Derek's shorts. He traced the outline, feeling the heat and the strength. The teacher used his tongue to travel over the landscape that was Derek's body. Mr. Castellanos was insatiable. Derek's muscles tensed, his toes curling in his sneakers. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer, the pressure building in his balls like a dam about to burst. He moaned, his hips jerking, and the teacher took the hint, increasing his pace. With a final flex of his arms, Derek pushed Mr. Castellanos away, his cock standing proud and glistening. "Not yet," he panted, his eyes dark with desire. "There's so much more I want to show you." He grabbed the teacher's hand and pulled him to his feet. "Follow me," he said, leading him towards the supply closet. The supply closet was small, cramped, but the confined space only added to the intensity of their situation. Derek turned to face Mr. Castellanos, his body a canvas of perfection that the teacher couldn't help but devour with his eyes. The young man reached for a bottle of oil that he had purposely stashed away earlier, the liquid glistening under the fluorescent lights. "Ready to see the full show?" he asked with a wicked grin. Mr. Castellanos nodded, his eyes wide with anticipation. Derek began to unbutton his polo, his muscles flexing and glistening with the anticipation of what was to come. He pulled the shirt off, revealing his broad, hairless chest, each muscle shredded and wanting to be touched. The teacher couldn't resist; he stepped closer, his hand shaking as he reached out to trace the lines of Derek's abs. The contact was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure through both of them. Derek took the oil in his hand, pouring a generous amount into Mr. Castellanos's palm. "Go ahead," he urged, his voice low and seductive. The teacher's hand hovered for a moment before making contact with Derek's skin. He began to rub the oil into the bodybuilder's chest, his touch soft at first, but growing more confident as Derek moaned in pleasure. The oil was rubbed over Derek's flesh, making his muscles glisten like wet granite. The student turned to face the mirror that lined one side of the closet, his back to Mr. Castellanos. He began to flex, his back muscles rippling and contorting into a detailed tapestry of power. The teacher moved his hands over Derek's body, exploring every inch of the taut, oiled skin. The mirror reflected their images, making it seem as if there were two of them, each more powerfull than the last. Derek's breath grew heavier, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as the teacher's hands glided over his shoulders, down his back, and around to his chest again. Mr. Castellanos took a step closer, his breath hot against Derek's neck as he whispered, "You're so beautiful." Derek's cock twitched in response, his body alive with sensation. The teacher's hands moved lower, caressing the rock-fuckin-hard globes of his ass, his fingers slipping between the shredded cheeks to tease at the tight ring of muscle beneath. Where-ever the teacher's hands went, they felt only the hardest flexed must under the thinnest skin possible. In the mirror, their reflection was a 'tableau vivant' of lust—Derek's powerful body flexing and glistening, Mr. Castellanos's desperate need carved into his face. The young man's hand worked faster, the oil making the skin slide smoothly beneath his palm. The teacher's hips jerked, his cock pulsing with every stroke. Derek leaned back, his head resting on Mr. Castellanos's shoulder, his own breaths coming in ragged pants. "You like that, don't you? Being my dirty little slut in the classroom, showing off for me?" Derek nodded, his strokes becoming more erratic as the pleasure built. "Look at yourself," Mr. Castellanos growled, his hips snapping forward. "You're made for this, for me to fuck you whenever I want." Derek's eyes flew open, meeting his teacher's in the mirror. He had never felt so desired, so wanted. The teacher's eyes never left Derek's in the mirror as he drove deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the small space. "Cum for me," he ordered, his voice a guttural rasp. "Cum for me, you filthy little muscle whore." Derek threw his head back, his body tightening as he released, ropes of cum spurting from his cock and coating his hand. Then, the spell was broken by the sound of the doorknob turning. The two men froze, their eyes wide with terror. Someone was coming, and they weren't finished. The next few moments would be a race against time, a frantic scramble to regain their composure before they were caught. The thrill of almost being discovered only added to the heady mix of emotions, leaving them both breathless and desperate. The door swung open, and the janitor's mop stopped mid-stroke as he took in the scene before him—Derek's pants around his ankles, both men's faces flushed with pleasure and panic. The janitor's eyes widened, his mouth forming an 'O' of shock before he hastily retreated, shutting the door with a quiet click. The two of them remained frozen, hearts hammering in their chests, as they listened to the retreating footsteps. When they were certain they were alone again, Derek looked over his shoulder at Mr. Castellanos with a mix of amusement and concern. "Well, that was... unexpected," he said, trying to lighten the mood. The teacher's eyes were wide with horror. "Don't worry," he assured him, his voice low and comforting. "We're not done yet." With renewed determination, Derek pushed himself off the teacher's desk, his muscles quivering with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He turned to face Mr. Castellanos, a seductive smile playing on his lips. "I want you to hit my abs," he said, his voice a sultry whisper. The teacher's eyes narrowed with confusion before realization dawned, and he couldn't help the smoldering look that took over his features. He took a step closer, his hand raising to meet Derek's request. The sound of his hand meeting Derek's abs was music to their ears—a sharp smack followed by the low, resonant thud of flesh meeting flesh. Derek's abs rippled with each hit, the impact sending waves of pleasure through his body. He leaned into it, his eyes closed and a soft moan escaping his lips. Mr. Castellanos couldn't help but be drawn in, his own desire rekindling as he watched the young bodybuilder's reactions. His strokes grew harder, his hand smacking down with the force of his own pent-up lust. Derek leaned back, placing his hands on the desk to brace himself as Mr. Castellanos hit him with more force. The smack of skin echoed through the room, each hit leaving a red handprint that stood out against the tanned perfection of Derek's stomach. The young man's hips rolled with the rhythm, his muscular butt grinding against the teacher's still-hard cock. Mr. Castellanos groaned, his hand moving to grip Derek's hip to steady himself as he continued to strike the flexed abs with an increasingly erratic pattern. The scent of sweat and sex filled the small space, mixing with the faint aroma of the leather chair. Derek's body was a masterpiece of youthful vigor, his muscles flexing and releasing in time with Mr. Castellanos's hand. The teacher's breath grew ragged, his strokes growing more erratic as the pleasure built in his own body. He couldn't resist the allure of Derek's powerhouse physique, the way his forearms bulged and his abs rippled with every smack. Suddenly, Derek spun around, his body a whirlwind of motion. He straddled Mr. Castellanos, his rock-hard ass pressing down onto the teacher's still-covered erection. "You like that, don't you?" he taunted, his voice a mix of playfulness and challenge. Without waiting for a response, he placed his hands on Mr. Castellanos's shoulders and pushed himself up, his abs hovering just above the teacher's face. The room was silent except for their heavy breathing and the sound of Derek's muscles flexing. With a wicked grin, Derek began to lower his abs, the paper-thin skin stretching taut as he brought the defined ridges closer and closer to Mr. Castellanos's mouth. The teacher's eyes widened, and he licked his lips involuntarily, the anticipation driving him wild. The moment the first ripple of muscle made contact with his skin, Mr. Castellanos's eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a moan that was muffled by the stone muscles pressing down on him. Derek began to grind his abs against Mr. Castellanos's face, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through both of them. The teacher's nose was buried in the young man's pelvis, the scent of musk and sweat overwhelming him. He inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of desire that surrounded them. The pressure of Derek's abs was intense, the muscles flexing and releasing in a slow, deliberate dance that had Mr. Castellanos's eyes watering and his cock straining against his pants. The bodybuilder's movements grew more erratic, his grunts of pleasure becoming more frequent. The sight of Mr. Castellanos, his face buried in Derek's crotch, was almost too much to bear. "I'm going to cum," Derek panted, his abs contracting even more forcefully. "All over your face, Mr. Castellanos." The teacher's eyes snapped open, and he looked up at Derek, his own need reflected in the young man's gaze. Derek's abs continued to flex and grind against his face, the pressure unbearable. Mr. Castellanos's breath was hot against Derek's skin, his cheeks red with exertion and desire. With a final, powerful flex, Derek's orgasm hit him hard. His cock, already leaking precum, spurted hot jets of cum across Mr. Castellanos's face, the sticky fluid coating his cheeks and nose. The teacher's eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. The room was still, the only sound the harsh panting of their mingled breaths. Derek's abs remained pinned to Mr. Castellanos's face, the teacher's nose buried in the muscular crotch, the taste of cum lingering on his lips. Finally, Derek lifted himself off the teacher, his abs glistening with sweat and cum. Mr. Castellanos took a deep breath, his chest heaving. "Fuck," he murmured, the word a benediction and a curse all at once. "That was..." "A taste of what's to come?" He leaned down, his abs still flexed, and whispered in the teacher's ear, "But I'm not done with you yet." His hand slithered down to Mr. Castellanos's crotch, his fingers wrapping around the still-hard cock. "Not even close." Derek's eyes never left the teacher's as he brought his massive forearms together, the veins standing out like cords against the stark white of his skin. Mr. Castellanos watched, his breath hitching, as Derek positioned his arms in a V-shape. The young man's biceps flexed as he brought the teacher's cock into the center of the V, the tip nestling between the two bulging veins. Derek's fingers began to dance, making his forearms rippling as he started to move his hands in opposite directions, creating a sensation that was unlike anything the teacher had ever felt before. It was as if his cock was being massaged by the most powerful, yet delicate, set of hands imaginable. The feeling was exquisite, and Mr. Castellanos's moans grew louder, his hips thrusting into the air as Derek's forearms worked their magic. The sound of the skin sliding against the muscle was like a symphony, each note hitting just the right spot. Derek's grip was firm, his fingers moving in a mesmerizing pattern that had the teacher's eyes rolling back in his head. He could feel the orgasm building, the tension coiling in his balls like a tight spring. Derek's forearms moved faster, the muscles bulging and pulsing with each stroke. The classroom was their playground, and the rules were simple—desire reigned supreme. Mr. Castellanos's cock was trapped between the two pillars of power, the young man's strength and endurance a testament to his dedication in the gym. The teacher's body was an expression of need, his muscles tensing and releasing as Derek's forearms continued their relentless assault. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, and yet he couldn't get enough. He begged for more, his voice a desperate whisper that seemed to turn young alfa on. The young bodybuilder smirked, his teeth glinting in the light. He knew exactly what the teacher needed, and he was more than willing to give it to him. He tightened his grip, his forearms flexing even more, the veins standing out like rivers of fire. The teacher's cock was trapped between the two muscular arms. Escaping as impossible. Mr. Castellanos could feel his climax approaching, a wave of pleasure that threatened to drown him. He bucked his hips, trying to fuck Derek's forearms, the desperation in his movements only adding to the eroticism of the scene. The young man's fingers tightened, the muscles in his arms working in perfect harmony to milk every ounce of pleasure from the teacher's body. And then, with a final, powerful flex, Mr. Castellanos was over the edge, his cock pulsing and spurting cum across the desk. Derek's arms didn't stop moving, milking the last drops of pleasure from the teacher's body as he watched the man come undone before him. The classroom was silent except for the sound of their ragged breathing. The world had narrowed to this one moment, this one perfect connection between teacher and student, predator and prey, desire and satisfaction. Derek slowly released Mr. Castellanos's cock, his forearms still quivering with the aftermath of the intense climax they had just given. The teacher looked up at him, his eyes a mix of pleasure and fear at what he had just allowed. "What have we done?" he whispered, his voice trembling. Derek's smirk grew wider, his eyes beaming with cockiness. "We've just begun, Mr. Castellanos," he said, his voice a sweet promise of more to come. "This is just the warm-up."

Hello everyone! I've had this story bouncing around in my head for quite some time now, and I'm happy to finally put it into words. There's a bit of setup before any growth, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Chapter 1 He was sitting at the end of the bar when I first laid eyes on him. He was handsome, with a clean jaw and short jet black hair that was swept back. He wore a purple button-up shirt and maroon velvet pants. In the oppressive Hanoi summer heat, those clothes must have been stifling, yet his easy demeanor and cordial smile showed no discomfort. That was Tam, all right—always choosing style over comfort, always jovial. Of course, back then, I only saw him as my next conquest. Just someone new to sink my cock into for the night. If only I'd known how much that man would change my life. How much meaning and joy he would bring me. And how much growth he'd inspire in me, both physically and mentally. By then, I’d been in Vietnam for two months. I came during my sabbatical, looking for adventure. Your twenties are supposed to be your adventurous years, after all. A week in, I canceled my plans to continue traveling through Cambodia and Thailand. I’d fallen in love with Vietnam and resolved to explore every nook and cranny I could find. I know it’s a cliché for Germans to choose this trifecta of countries as a holiday destination. But I was only half-German, a fact you could discern from my height and blue eyes. My other half was Turkish, and I had that heritage to thank for my facial hair and golden-brown coiffure. I kept my beard neatly trimmed, while my hair was left just messy enough to look effortless, though I'd hesitate to admit how long I spent getting it that way. Combined with my athletic build and a matching clean outfit, you could say I was a looker. Back home, it was pretty easy to attract attention at the bars and clubs. But at 27, I was starting to wane off the party scene as it slowly got tedious. I was no longer interested in dancing or binging until the wee hours of the morning. I only ever went out when I was hunting. Grindr was also a tool at my disposal of course, but it left me feeling numb. There was no excitement, no rush, no tug and pull. Like all animals, humans have a mating dance—one that I had mastered and found great pleasure in. I would catch the eyes of someone looking my way: interested, but not yet convinced. Then, I'd spend the night testing the waters, letting my hand surreptitiously land on him, whisper in his ear, and invite him for a dance. Hours later I'd have his back arched on my bed, screaming and begging for more. In Vietnam, my routine hadn’t changed much. If anything, my nighttime prowling was even easier. Among tourists and locals, I was an oddity: foreign and different. Heads turned as I walked by, intrigued. I didn’t blame them. I looked good, and they knew it. So when my gaze landed on that handsome Viet man sitting and laughing at that corner seat, I sat up, rolled up my sleeves, and sauntered over. His frame, though small, was well formed. He was slender, with narrow shoulders and delicate wrists that contrasted with the subtle definition of his forearms. His neck was long and graceful, and his posture carried a quiet confidence that felt undeniably masculine. He turned and saw me, letting his eyes linger on my figure and raising an eyebrow. “I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here in the corner,” I said, leaning casually against the bar, my voice warm with charm. “What’s a handsome guy like you doing, hiding away?” The man glanced up at me, his dark eyes cool and unreadable. He tilted his head ever so slightly before answering. “Actually, I’m not hiding. I’m here with my friend,” he said, nodding toward the person seated next to him. “Hi, I’m Minh!” the friend piped up brightly, his high-pitched voice contrasting with Tam’s reserved tone. Minh extended a delicate hand toward me. He was tiny, no taller than 5’3”, with an almost birdlike thinness, but his vibrant outfit—a bold green shirt and patterned scarf—demanded attention. Even his glasses had a rose tint, with the metal frame curving in small spirals at the edges. "Bastian," I said, swallowing his hand in mine as I shook it. Still, I quickly turned my attention back to the man who had first caught my eye. “And you?” I asked, my voice dropping slightly as I addressed the good looking stranger. “Do I get to know your name?” “Tam,” he said simply, his tone polite but distant. “And thank you for the flattery, but we’re perfectly fine as we are.” The blow landed harder than I expected. I blinked, momentarily thrown off. But I wasn’t about to give up so easily. “I think if you gave me a chance, you’d find I’m a pretty interesting guy to talk to,” I said, leaning in slightly. I let my voice dip lower, coaxing him like I was taming a wild fox. Tam’s eye twitched—was it boredom? Annoyance? I couldn’t tell—but he kept his eyes fixed on his drink. “I already find Minh plenty interesting,” he said, his tone firmer now. “Also, you’re asking me to ignore my friend. That’s... not exactly charming.” “Oh, I don’t mind,” Minh interjected quickly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the issue. I grinned. “See? He doesn’t mind.” Tam’s gaze lifted to mine, sharp and unwavering. “I do.” That stopped me cold. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried enough weight to slam the brakes on my usual routine. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been outright shut down like this, and it wasn’t an experience I relished. My ears burned as the rejection sank in. “Well,” I said, straightening up and forcing a smile, “you two have a good night.” Tam didn’t respond, his attention already back on his drink. Minh, however, gave me a sympathetic smile and a small wave. I retreated to my stool by the wall, my shoulders slumping as the heat of embarrassment spread across me. I'd never felt so disarmed and vulnerable. Not in a long time at least… That old familiar shame clawed its way up, leaving a dull ache in its wake and digging up buried memories. I couldn’t stop fidgeting with the glass in my hand, my thumb circling the rim over and over. Taking a long sip of my drink, I glanced toward the bar. Through the milling crowd, I could see them—Tam and Minh—locked in what looked like an argument. The scene replayed in my head like a bad highlight reel. I imagined myself saying something smoother, more clever, less forward. Maybe if I’d done this, or said that— “Then maybe you go! I’m not interested!” Tam’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and unmistakable. I watched him gather his things. My eyes darted to the mirror on the far wall, catching my reflection. Was there something off? I ran a hand over my jawline, feeling the smoothness of my fresh shave. Nope, all good. My white shirt was crisp and well-fitted, tapering neatly at the waist. My jeans hugged my thighs snugly—one of my stronger assets—and the belt buckle tied the look together. Still, I rolled my shoulders, flexing a bit to test the sleeves of my shirt. I thought I filled out the fabric here a bit more, I wondered to myself, watching the cotton bunch up near the seams. What did I weigh last time I checked? 220? Feel like I got smaller. I turned slightly, checking the back of my outfit in the mirror. Shouldn't have skipped that last workout for that early hike. “Excuse me.” I looked up to see Minh standing there, swaying slightly, a sly grin on his face. “Bastian, right? Is this seat taken?” I gestured an invitation and he took a seat next to me. My eyes flicked back to the bar. Tam was gone. “I’m sorry about my friend,” Minh said, his voice light, but tinged with genuine apology. “He’s a great guy—really, he is—but you’ve got to get through that thick exterior.” “You two seem close,” I said, swirling the last bit of whiskey in my glass. “Oh, we are.” Minh nodded. “The whole point of tonight was to go out whoring, but Tam’s such a damn overthinker. Chickens out like this every time.” He let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “Doesn’t realize what a catch he is, no matter how much I tell him. Leaves me to pick up whatever bait he leaves dangling before he bolts—not that I’m complaining too much,” he added with a wink. “Is that what this is, then?” I asked, smirking despite myself. “Latching on to my bait?” Minh tilted his head, feigning innocence, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, you’ve got me latched onto your pole, alright.” I barked out a laugh. It was cheesy, but his delivery was so confident, so unabashedly playful, I couldn’t help but enjoy it. The earlier sting of rejection hadn’t entirely faded, but Minh’s charm and attention were starting to patch me up. He was bold, disarming, and clearly enjoying himself. Why not lean into it? A little fun wouldn’t hurt. “So, Minh,” I said, turning toward him and letting a slow grin spread across my face. “What’s a guy like me gotta do to keep you around?” --- We arrived at my place around 10 o'clock. This was my last night in the hotel before moving to a shared hostel, and I intended to make the most of the privacy while I still had it. Minh had been eager all evening, sneaking in little touches and squeezes when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. By the time we stepped into the elevator, his restraint was gone, and he leaned up to kiss me. At 6’2”, I towered over him, and I couldn’t help but enjoy the way he rose onto his toes, trying to reach me as we stumbled down the hall, hands roaming over each other’s bodies. He struggled to keep up, so I made it easy for him: I scooped him up over my shoulder and picked up my step. Minh’s laughter was infectious, spilling out in breathless giggles that echoed down the corridor. We were drunk, horny, and too far gone to care who might hear us. By the time we made it to my room, I felt a rush of energy—confidence and desire. Minh’s excitement only fueled my own. I tossed him onto the bed with an effortless swing, grinning at his delighted gasp. As I kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned my shirt, Minh was already pulling his own shirt over his head, his glasses falling askew in the process. He tossed them aside carelessly, flashing me a wide, impish smile. God, he looked cute. For a fleeting second, Tam’s face flashed in my mind, but I pushed the bitter thought away. Minh was here, eager and willing, and I wasn’t about to let myself get distracted. As I undid the last button, Minh let out a wolf whistle, his eyes wide as he took in my sculpted torso. “Damn, you’re an actual stud,” he said, half-incredulous, half-teasing. I smirked, slowing my movements, turning the act into a deliberate strip-tease. His grin widened, and he leaned back on the bed, clearly enjoying the show. I ran a hand down my chest, tracing the ridges of muscle, before hooking my thumbs into my belt. I’d worked hard for this—five years of dedicated workouts and a disciplined diet. My body wasn’t just a testament to my effort; it was a tool, and I knew how to wield it. Minh’s gaze was proof enough. His eyes followed every move, brimming with awe and desire. I loved that. I leaned down to straddle him, grinding my hips against his smaller frame as I shucked off my shirt. His breath hitched, his hands immediately reaching for my torso, exploring the firm ridges of my abs and sides. His touch was bold, his kisses hungrier, more intense than I’d expected from someone so petite. Good. I liked someone who could match my energy. Breaking the kiss, I stood and let my pants fall to the floor, leaving just our briefs between us. A thin string of saliva still connected us as Minh sat up slightly, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed. My eyes flicked downward, catching the bulge in his rose-colored underwear. He was hard. My hand slid beneath the waistband of my briefs, freeing myself at last. Minh’s eyes widened as he took in my full length, his jaw dropping slightly. Eight inches, thick and pulsing, stood proudly in front of him. His gaze flicked between my cock and my face, awe and hunger etched across his features. “YES!” he exclaimed, punching the air with excitement. I couldn’t help it—I laughed, the sound rumbling deep in my chest. His goofy enthusiasm was endearing, cutting through the tension like a balm. Minh was dextrous, rolling back quickly, his nimble hands tugging down his pink bottoms and tossing them aside in one smooth motion. He must have been about five inches, maybe a little more—but on his body, it looked larger. Licking his lips, he let his hand drift down past his hard cock, fingers slipping lower to his smooth, hairless ass. Slowly, tentatively, he began teasing himself, opening up as he kept his eyes locked on mine. The sight was mesmerizing—Minh, sprawled across the bed, ready and eager, his body proclaiming an invitation for mine to take its place. I knelt on the bed, my weight sinking into the mattress as I leaned over him. His breath quickened as I pressed a hand to his thigh, running it upward with deliberate pressure. His body tensed beneath me, shivering under my touch. “Ready for me, Minh?” I murmured, my voice low and gravelly. “More than ready." I knelt down, capturing his lips in another searing kiss, more urgent this time. My right hand cupped his delicate face, my thumb brushing over his cheek. Meanwhile, my other hand slid between his legs, slipping into his tight entrance where his own fingers had left off. My thicker digits made a more sizeable intrusion than his own, and his groans of pleasure thanked me for it. His face looked so boyish, and my hand easily eclipsed the length of it. He looked fragile, almost breakable, but the fire in his eyes told me he could handle whatever I had to give. I let my hand slide down to his slender neck, pausing as I raised an eyebrow in a silent check-in. “I can take it,” he said, his voice soft and unexpectedly high-pitched, likely from the stimulation he was receiving in his ass. “Good boy,” I whispered, wrapping my fingers gently around his neck, just enough to let him feel my control. At the same time, my other hand worked him open with skill, slipping in a second, then a third finger. His body squirmed under my touch, arching and twisting as he tried to cope with the building pleasure. Minh’s hands wandered in a frenzy, moving from my thick arm to my face and hair, then back down over my firm chest. He was moving like he didn't know what to do with his hands anymore. When I finally withdrew my fingers, he exhaled a long breath in reprieve. But I had something much bigger in store for him. After a generous application of lube, I positioned myself at his entrance, taking my time to push in slowly. Minh’s frame tensed at first, but he continued to exhale deeply, controlling his breathing like a pro. It was quickly becoming apparent that this wasn't his first rodeo. His hand rested on mine, a silent signal for when to pause and when to proceed. I eased my entire length into him, the tight heat of his body squeezing me in all the right ways. Once I bottomed out, I grinned and leaned down, brushing back the hair from his forehead. “Ready for the real fucking?” I murmured. Minh nodded wordlessly, his wide eyes glimmering. I adjusted his legs to either side of me, bracing myself before starting a steady rhythm. Each thrust drew a delicious mix of gasps and moans from him. “Oh my god,” he cried out, his fingers gripping the sheets as I picked up my pace. My breath came heavy now, as I watched him unravel beneath me. Each thrust sent shocks of pleasure through him, and his breathless yelps told me exactly when I hit his sweet spot. I kept up the relentless rhythm for what must have been ten minutes, savoring the heat and tightness of his hole. Then, with a quick decision, I shifted him onto his side. He was so easy to manhandle; his light, compact body moved wherever I wanted it. I grabbed both his arms with one hand, pinning them securely behind his back, and pressed his head down into the mattress with the other. His muffled moans vibrated against the duvet as I entered him again, his body pliant and willing beneath me. “You take this dick so well, boy,” I growled, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. Minh’s response was nothing but pure submission. His moans turned to soft, desperate cries, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as his cheek pressed into the bed. I picked up speed, fully drilling into him, my developed thighs burning with the effort. The slap of skin against skin filled the room, and a few drops of sweat fell from my body onto the writhing figure beneath me. He was barely audible now, his voice lost to pleasure as he instinctively ground his dick against the mattress. My grip on his wrists began to slip as sweat slicked both our bodies, but I held firm. His ass cheeks, glowing red from the pounding, jiggled with every stroke. Despite the roughness, his face was a picture of bliss, his lips parted and his body moving in time with my own. As I felt the pressure building in my core, I slowed my movements to a more deliberate, calculated pace, each thrust deeper and more controlled. Minh’s body tensed in my arms, his legs trembling beneath mine. His eyes closed tightly, and a sharp cry tore from his lips as he reached his climax, spilling himself against the duvet. The sight of him unraveling sent me over the edge. My thrusts grew erratic as I leaned down. One final, deep push, and I spilled my release inside him, my body shuddering with the intensity. We stayed entwined for several minutes, breathing heavily as the haze of post-coital euphoria enveloped us. The room was filled with the scent of sweat and sex, and neither of us moved for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Minh broke the silence, speaking between pants of breath. “So, we’re meeting again, right?”

Time for Petey to learn the family secret while sucking that massive bicep, while his dad whispers the truth over him. I want to see his dad take pity on him about Tommy, giving him affection as Petey gives in to his need for massive muscle. I'd love to see something like, "You're a good boy, Petey. You never took what was for all of us, in an emergency." "But looks like we've got us a little unexpected emergency, from the inside. I want you to take care of him, Petey." Petey gets repaid for his fall, as he lets himself be hard and true in this moment. But it's far from over. I think Tommy's dominance is the story's driver, he's the sparking fire that keeps the tension going. So what to do if Petey learns the family secret and starts muscling Tommy? Maybe as Petey grows, Tommy feels threatened and reacts like a fuckin' tool. I would love to see how Petey’s growth doesn't immediately equal Tommy’s, but how Petey packing muscle on increases his vulnerability around Tommy and deepens the stakes. Then as Petey is driven to grow to protect himself from a threatened and pissed off Tommy, does Petey hold back out of fear of becoming like Tommy? Or maybe Tommy has something more than just size—maybe his mastery of the family secret gives him a god-like edge. Maybe Tommy knows how to weaponize his power and use his access to the family secret in ways Petey is still learning? I love your writing, how you keep using Petey's expectations and thoughts to throw us off and keep the tension and surprise up. Every time I come to the story forum, I check to see if you're back with the next chapter. Whatever's coming, MORE please.

I'm working through a creative road block. Finally making some headway but it's still kinda rough.

Thank you for the kind words! Looking back, I had some extra thoughts on the pacing of some scenes, especially in the second half of the last chapter, so I went and edited in some changes to make it flow better here and there. The next chapter is actually mostly done, but I think I'm gonna let it cook a bit longer in the editing bay before releasing it

Aw, thanks for that. This is honestly one of my favorite stories and one I revisit often. But I've never been comfortable continuing others' stories. It sucks that author is long gone. At least it's long enough that we can get plenty of satisfaction from what we still have.

Chapter 19: Tribal Arnold Friday night, the energy at the Arnold Classic was electric, the air buzzing with anticipation. The expo hall was packed with competitors, fans, and industry elites, but it was impossible to miss the Tribe. They moved like gods among men, towering, sculpted masses of muscle that dwarfed even the most dedicated bodybuilders. Everywhere they went, heads turned, and conversations stopped. They were living legends. Leading the charge was Malik, a shredded 305 pounds of pure ebony muscle, his physique so dialed in it looked like it was carved from stone. His green eyes were locked in, focused, ready for the battle ahead. The stage was set for the prejudging rounds, and he was the star everyone couldn’t take their eyes off. Beside him, the Tribe’s juggernaut, Big Ryan, stood like a mountain—480 pounds of imposing, bulging muscle, his presence casting a long shadow over anyone nearby. Hadi, the 335-pound machine, moved with a quiet, lethal grace that made him even more intimidating, his gaze sharp, taking in every detail. Zane, at 375 pounds, looked like he was sculpted from granite, his body as intimidating as his mind. Blake, a 377-pound freak of nature, always chasing the next level of mass, smirked as he caught people staring, knowing damn well they’d never seen anything like him. Then there was Jacob, deceptively strong at 325 pounds, his physique balanced and powerful, his muscles hard and thick. Austin, at 275 pounds, rounded out the squad, his body a masterpiece of size and symmetry, with a youthful cockiness that showed he was proud to stand with giants. As they made their way through the venue, it was clear—they were the center of attention, a walking spectacle of impossible muscle mass, each one of them commanding the space they entered. Other competitors and fans parted for them instinctively, whispers following in their wake. But it was Malik who everyone was here to see. On stage under the blinding lights, Malik stood in the center, his muscles tight and glistening under a fine sheen of oil. Every movement he made was deliberate, controlled, showing off the deep cuts in his quads, the striations across his chest, and the insane detail in his back. His opponent, a smaller but impressively conditioned bodybuilder, was giving it everything he had, but Malik’s size, symmetry, and conditioning made him the clear frontrunner. Zane barked orders from the audience, his deep voice carrying over the crowd. "Flex harder, Malik! Show ‘em those fucking wheels!" Malik responded, hitting a side chest shot, his pecs flaring like two slabs of concrete, his legs quivering with the deep striations that cut across his quads. The crowd roared, the judges' eyes glued to him. This was his show, and he knew it. Ryan leaned over to Hadi, his massive arm casually draped over the back of his chair. "He’s got this in the bag. Ain’t nobody gonna touch him." Hadi grinned, his eyes never leaving the stage. "No one’s built like Malik. Over 300 pounds of shredded muscle… they can’t compete." Saturday morning was chaos at the expo. The Tribe was the talk of the event. Every booth they passed turned into a spectacle, with people scrambling to take photos, get autographs, and beg for training tips. The sheer size was unreal—each big man towering at least six feet tall and over 300 pounds of solid muscle, moving together like an unstoppable wave of mass and power. And then there was Austin, standing at just 5’7” but packing an insane 275 pounds of ripped freakish muscle. What he lacked in height, he more than made up for in sheer density, his physique drawing as much awe and attention as the giants towering above him. At one booth, a pull-up challenge was announced, and a crowd quickly gathered as Jacob stepped forward. The moment he reached for the bar, the doubters started whispering—at 325 pounds of pure muscle, they didn’t believe he’d manage more than a handful of reps. The announcer at the booth pointed out with a challenge that no man over 320 pounds had completed over 20. But the Tribe knew better. Jacob’s muscle wasn’t just for show; it was built to perform. Without hesitation, Jacob peeled off his t-shirt, revealing a physique that left the crowd momentarily stunned. His massive chest heaved as he breathed deeply, the sweat already beginning to glisten across the deep striations of his pecs and shoulders. His lats flared out like wings, their sheer width and thickness giving him the appearance of a human tank. The muscles of his back rippled in intricate layers, every ridge and groove highlighted by the sheen of sweat under the harsh expo lights as he stretched and warmed up his muscles. Gripping the bar with hands that looked like they could crush steel, Jacob pulled himself up with effortless power. His traps and rhomboids contracted like cables under tension, his rear delts and thick, corded lats surging with each upward motion. One rep. Two. Three. The crowd began to count, their amazement growing louder as Jacob kept going. Beads of sweat rolled down his thick neck and over the wide expanse of his upper back, the lighting catching every bulge and valley of muscle in motion. By the time he hit 15 reps, the crowd was in a frenzy, screaming in disbelief as Jacob showed no signs of slowing down. His lower back tightened as his obliques came into sharp relief, his core stabilizing his enormous frame with precision. Each pull-up showcased the sheer power of his musculature—the impossible depth of his traps, the vast spread of his lats, and the chiseled detail of his lower back, all working together in perfect harmony. When Jacob finally hit 32 reps, his massive frame descended from the bar with complete control, landing lightly on the floor despite his incredible size. He grabbed his shirt, his sweat-soaked skin gleaming like polished stone, and turned to the roaring crowd with a knowing grin, as if to say, Was there ever any doubt? The crowd erupted, chanting his name. "Jacob! Jacob! Jacob!" Blake slapped him on the back, his voice a growl of pride. "Told ‘em. Strong as fuck, man." Jacob just grinned, catching his breath, loving the attention he gave the crowd one more flex before moving on with the other members of the Tribe. The expo floor throbbed with life—pulsing lights, the hum of machinery, the metallic clang of weights in demonstration areas, and the constant churn of voices blending into a cacophony. Brett “The Titan” Magnus loomed near his booth, the overwhelming heat of his own bulk radiating through the tight black tank he wore. His broad chest strained the fabric with every breath, his vascularity accentuated by the stage-perfect tan smeared over his skin like molten bronze. The crowd passed in waves, faceless for the most part, until they appeared. The Tribe Men weren’t just big men; they were a walking storm, a group of genetic freaks who turned heads wherever they went. Brett had tangled with a few of them on stage before, but it wasn’t the collective that caught his eye today—it was Jacob. Jacob strode in with a deliberate calm, his frame consuming space. At 6’, he wasn’t as tall as the 6’2” Titan, but the density of him—boulder-like delts, a barrel chest, and quads that rippled even under sweats, and that cock - that huge fuckin’ horsecock—made the air seem heavier. His eyes cut to Brett, and something primal passed between them, unspoken but undeniable. Jacob’s lips curled into a smirk, as he could see right through Brett’s impassive exterior. Brett’s mouth went dry, a bead of sweat tracing its way down the carved canyon of his spine. “Yo, Titan,” Jacob rumbled when they were close enough to be drowned out by the crowd. His voice was low, gritty, and just a little taunting. “You gonna keep staring, or you gonna say something?” Brett crossed his arms, ignoring the way his chest muscles bunched and flexed, threatening the seams of his shirt. “Didn’t know you’d be here.” Jacob stepped closer, the heat of his presence palpable. “Wouldn’t miss it. Thought you might’ve heard. Guess not.” Brett swallowed hard. Something unyielding knotted in his gut—a mixture of hunger and anticipation. Jacob’s gaze was relentless, pinning him like a weight too heavy to press. Brett shifted his stance, feigning disinterest. Austin, always mischievous, drifted past them, his shorter frame still a far cry from normal. He clapped Jacob’s shoulder with a knowing grin and jerked his head toward a side door. Jacob didn’t need to speak; his smirk widened, and with a single, pointed glance, he made it clear: Follow me. Brett told his team he was taking a break. The storage room was cooler, dimly lit by a single overhead bulb. The smell of sweat and rubber mats clung to the air, and stacks of branded protein tubs lined the walls like silent sentinels. Jacob leaned against the solid metal door, his arms crossed. Brett stood a few feet away, the room suddenly too small for two giants like them. The quiet was suffocating, thick with a tension that prickled Brett’s skin. “Couldn’t resist, could you?” Jacob said, his voice dripping with arrogance and something else—something darker. Brett’s jaw tightened. “Don’t start.” “Why not? You think I don’t see it? The way you look at me?” Jacob pushed off the wall, closing the distance. “Hell, you’ve been eyeing me like a damn steak since I walked in.” Brett’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His breath quickened, the denial caught in his throat. Jacob was right, and they both knew it. The craving was a wildfire in his veins, impossible to snuff out now that it had been ignited. Jacob’s fingers found Brett’s jaw, gripping it with a force that sent a jolt through his entire body. “Say it.” Brett growled low in his throat, his chest heaving as Jacob pressed closer, their combined mass filling the room until the walls seemed to bow outward. “You’re such a dick,” Brett spat, but there was no venom in his words—only surrender. Jacob laughed, the sound deep and feral, as his hand slid down to Brett’s chest, the heat of his palm branding him through the thin fabric. “Damn right I am. Biggest fuckin’ dick you’ve ever seen.” The door creaked open slightly, and Austin peeked in, a smug grin plastered across his face. “Don’t mind me. Just keeping watch. I’ll knock twice if anyone is coming.” He stepped back, pulling the door shut again, but his presence lingered like a phantom. Jacob’s grip tightened as he shoved Brett against the wall, the sharp edge of a shelf digging into his shoulder. Their breaths mingled, hot and ragged, the moment crackling with the kind of raw intensity that made Brett’s head spin. Jacob’s lips hovered close, his voice a husky whisper. “Let go, big guy. You know you want to.” Brett’s back hit the wall with a dull thud, the cold press of metal shelving grounding him for just a moment. Jacob’s hand was still on him, a massive paw pinning Brett’s chest like a vice. Brett wasn’t small by any stretch, but against Jacob’s relentless presence, he felt caged. He could’ve fought back—his instincts screamed to—but the fire in Jacob’s gaze demanded something else entirely. “That’s what I thought,” Jacob said, his voice low, almost taunting. He leaned in, his breath hot against Brett’s ear, sending a shiver rolling down his spine. “All that posturing out there, the big mighty Titan. But here? I own you.” Brett’s lips parted, a growl rumbling in his throat, but before the protest could leave his mouth, Jacob’s hand slid up to his jaw, gripping it with a deliberate roughness. Brett didn’t resist. Couldn’t. His muscles trembled, not from weakness but from the sheer force of will it took to hold still, to let himself yield. Jacob grinned, his teeth flashing under the dim light. “Yeah. That’s it.” His thumb brushed over Brett’s lips, feeling the quivering softness. “You’re not as tough as you make people think, huh? Under all that muscle, you’re just waiting for someone stronger to put you in your place.” “Shut up,” Brett snapped, though his voice was hoarse, his words lacking conviction. His broad chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, every nerve alight under Jacob’s touch. Jacob laughed, the sound deep and resonant. He pressed closer, their massive bodies colliding like tectonic plates, the sheer weight of them filling the space with a palpable tension. “You’re not in charge here, big guy. I am.” Brett’s hands twitched at his sides, caught between instinct and surrender. He’d spent years being the biggest, the strongest, the one everyone looked up to—or feared. But now, with Jacob’s weight against him and his hand firm on his jaw, Brett felt that same thrill again with Jacob: small. Vulnerable. And it thrilled him. “You want my huge cock in that hole, stretching you, wrecking you,” Jacob said, his voice soft but dripping with authority. His hand slid down, tracing the contours of Brett’s chest and abs with a rough possessiveness. “You’ve been dying for it, haven’t you?” Brett’s head thumped against the wall as he let out a sharp exhale. He couldn’t bring himself to answer, not out loud, but his body betrayed him—the tension melting from his frame, his muscles slackening ever so slightly as he gave in. Jacob’s grin widened. “Thought so.” He stepped back, just enough to force Brett to follow the pull of his touch. Brett staggered, his breath hitching as Jacob grabbed him by the belt, yanking him forward with a force that left no room for doubt about who was in control. Brett growled, his lips curling back in something between defiance and submission. “You’re so fuckin’ full of yourself.” Jacob chuckled, his grip tightening. “And you’re full of shit if you think you don’t love it.” His hand pressed against Brett’s chest again tweaking the pointy nipples, pushing him down until the Titan’s knees buckled under the pressure, his massive frame folding as Jacob loomed over him. “You’re mine now,” Jacob murmured, his voice a low, rumbling promise. “And I’m gonna make sure you remember it.” The storage room felt like it was charged with static, every breath between them thick and heavy. Brett knelt, the sharp cold of the concrete beneath him a stark contrast to the heat of his skin. Jacob stood above him, his chest rising with steady control, his smirk a wolfish reminder of who had the upper hand. He undid his sweatpants and freed his throbbing cock. Brett’s eyes widened and an uncontrolled gasp escaped his open mouth, the sheer size of it shocking even though he had seen it before. The huge head was only an inch from his lips as he extended his tongue to taste the slick pre-cum. Then came the quick sound—2 knocks. Quick, purposeful, and too soon. “Shit,” Austin hissed from outside the door. His voice was sharp but low enough to avoid drawing attention. “We’ve got company. Two maintenance guys, coming your way.” Jacob’s expression darkened, his hand still on Brett’s shoulder as he glanced toward the door. His lips pressed into a line, his frustration evident. Brett looked up, the haze in his mind clearing as reality slammed back into focus. “You’re kidding me,” Jacob growled under his breath, his voice venomous as he reracked his massive club inside his sweats. “Nope. They’re hauling something big too. You’ve got maybe ten seconds,” Austin warned, his tone clipped but calm. Jacob exhaled sharply, releasing Brett with a rough shove to his shoulder. “Get up,” he ordered. His tone wasn’t angry—it was commanding, brimming with the kind of authority that made Brett move without thinking. Brett rose to his feet, towering over Jacob again but still feeling the weight of their moment hanging thick in the air. He adjusted his tank and belt hastily, his breathing still uneven as his mind raced to catch up with what was happening. The footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the unmistakable creak of a wheeled cart. Jacob’s jaw ticked as he scanned the room. “Back wall. Stack something. Act busy,” he snapped. Without protest, Brett moved, his massive hands fumbling to rearrange the protein tubs on a nearby shelf. Jacob joined him, his demeanor flipping with astonishing ease, his movements calculated and calm as if he hadn’t just been in the midst of asserting his dominance over the Titan himself. The door swung open. Two men in navy maintenance uniforms stepped in, pushing a cart loaded with folded chairs. One of them glanced up, his expression mildly surprised but quickly shifting to neutral. “Oh, sorry, guys. Didn’t realize anyone was in here.” “Yeah, just restocking,” Jacob said smoothly, lifting a tub off the cart and stacking it with an exaggerated motion. His tone was casual, his expression disarmingly friendly. “Figured we’d make ourselves useful while things were slow.” The man nodded, still visibly intimidated by the sheer size of the two massive bodybuilders in the cramped space. His partner gave an awkward laugh. “No worries. Won’t take long—just dropping these stack chairs off for the after-party setup.” Brett forced himself to focus, keeping his back turned as he shifted tubs unnecessarily. His pulse still thundered in his ears, and the lingering heat from Jacob’s touch made his hands tremble, though he masked it well. Jacob leaned casually against the shelf, crossing his arms as he watched the men unload. The older one said, “All good. We’ll be outta your way in a sec.” The maintenance men worked quickly, sensing the tension in the air even if they couldn’t place its source. After a few minutes of clattering metal and hushed conversation, they wheeled their empty cart out, offering brief nods as they left. As the door clicked shut behind the maintenance men, silence reclaimed the room. Jacob turned to Brett, his smirk sharp and knowing. “Saved by the bell, huh?” Brett scowled, the heat of the moment still simmering beneath his skin. His massive frame shifted slightly, shoulders rolling as if shaking off the lingering tension. “You’re a cocky bastard, you know that?” Jacob stepped closer, the smirk never leaving his face. “And you love it. Don’t even try to deny it.” Brett’s lips twitched, but instead of another scowl or growl, he let out a low, reluctant laugh. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make Jacob’s eyes spark with satisfaction. Brett stepped past him, brushing against Jacob’s solid bulk as he moved toward the door. Then he paused, glancing over his shoulder with an expression that was equal parts challenge and invitation. “Room 1418. I’ll be available after midnight if you’re free,” Brett said, his voice steady but dripping with intent. He didn’t wait for a response, pulling open the door and stepping into the outer area where Austin leaned casually against the wall. Jacob stayed where he was, watching Brett’s broad back retreat back toward his booth. His grin widened, slow and predatory, as he leaned against the shelving. “Looks like the Titan’s ready to bow again to this big dick,” Jacob muttered to himself, his voice low and full of promise. By the time Saturday night rolled around, the anticipation for the final contest was palpable. Malik stood backstage, his veins popping out like road maps across his arms, his skin pulled tight over every muscle. He’d been carb-depleting all week, and now, after the final touches, he looked like a goddamn anatomy chart, every muscle striated and defined. When he stepped on stage, the room went silent for a moment. And then the applause hit, a wall of sound crashing over the stage as Malik went through his posing routine. Front double biceps—his arms bulged, veins thick as ropes wrapping around his peak. Side triceps—his horseshoe snapped into view, thick and gnarly. The crowd roared with every pose, and by the time he hit his final most-muscular, slamming his fists together, his pecs and traps exploding with size, it was clear. Malik was the king. The trophy was his. --- The celebration that followed was everything you’d expect from the Tribe. They owned the night, their massive bodies dominating the afterparty. Drinks flowed, women flirted, men flirted, and competitors congratulated Malik on his win, but all anyone could talk about was the size of the Tribe. No one had seen anything like them, a crew of giants that made even the biggest pros look small. But the real celebration was waiting back at the mansion. The rented mansion was massive, sprawling over several acres with high ceilings and endless rooms, but it wasn’t big enough to contain the energy that surged through the Tribe as they returned from the night’s festivities. Inside, it was chaos—raw, primal energy filling every corner of the space. The guys had stripped down, the air heavy with the smell of sweat and musk, their muscles pumped and glistening from the night. The tension between them was thick, the unspoken desire that had been simmering beneath the surface all weekend finally breaking free. Big Ryan was the first to move, his massive hand grabbing Blake by the back of the neck and pulling him into a rough kiss, their huge bodies colliding with a force that made the entire room feel small. Hadi grinned, watching the display with dark hazel eyes, his cock already hard as he took in the scene unfolding in front of him as he glanced up to the upper hidden balcony. Jacob and Austin weren’t far behind, their hands roaming over each other’s bodies, muscles grinding against muscles as they kissed, their breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps. Malik, the star of the night, watched it all with a quiet intensity, his green eyes glowing with hunger as he stripped out of his clothes, his shredded physique on full display. He didn’t have to say a word—his presence alone commanded the room. And then, like a wave crashing down, the Tribe descended into a frenzy of raw muscle and sex, their bodies colliding in a brutal, primal celebration of power and dominance. Hands gripped flesh, fingers dug into skin, and the sound of groans and growls filled the mansion as the Tribe gave in to their most primal instincts. Ryan moved behind Hadi, his massive hands gripping Hadi’s thick traps as he pressed against him, the heat between them palpable. Hadi let out a low growl, pushing back into Ryan, their bodies grinding together with a force that made the room feel like it was shaking. Zane kneeled in front of Hadi taking his hard cock deep down his throat. All the while, Hadi kept his eyes on the dark shadowed figure seated on the balcony above them, hidden from view. Blake and Malik were locked in their own battle, their massive hands exploring each other’s muscles, their breath coming in short, ragged bursts as they pressed together, their cocks hard and dripping, the air thick with sweat and lust. Above them, the silent man watched, his body trembling with need as the Tribe continued to ravage each other, the sound of their bodies slapping together echoing through the mansion. This was what it meant to be part of the Tribe—to give in to the raw, primal power that surged through their veins, to be consumed by the heat and the hunger that bound them together. And as the night wore on, the sounds of their celebration echoed through the mansion, a reminder that the Tribe was more than just a group of bodybuilders. They were a force of nature, unstoppable, unbreakable—and nothing could contain the raw power of their desire. As the first light of day began to stream through the windows, Hadi climbed the stairs, his muscles exhausted from the sexual exploits of the long celebratory night. He reached his target and ran his hand through Logan’s blond hair who stared up at him with pure submissive idol worship. Hadi smirked, knowing that this was just part of the game with Logan. Depriving him, keeping him in awe, in submission, and in lust; and then rewarding him with everything Hadi’s muscles, wealth, and power could bring as he favored his sexy Logan like no other. Hadi removed his gag and loosened the restraints on his wrists and ankles. He let out a low chuckle of satisfaction at the huge puddle of Logan’s cum on the ground in front of his chair from multiple hands-free eruptions. Hadi scooped up his muscle stud and carried him to bed. Mission accomplished.

Chapter 58 As their passionate encounter wound down, Brock and his doppelganger concentrated, their massive cocks shrinking back to a more modest 12 inches. The three men surveyed the room, taking in the aftermath of their intense lovemaking. Damn," Ollie breathed, eyeing the puddles of cum on the floor and table. "We really made a mess, didn't we?" Brock chuckled, his chest rumbling. "Nothing we can't handle. Let's clean up, boys." They set to work, using towels and rags to mop up the copious fluids. As they wrung out the cloths into a nearby bucket, Ollie's eyes widened in amazement. The bucket quickly filled to the 2-liter mark with their combined essence. "Holy shit," Ollie gasped, staring at the bucket in disbelief. "That's... that's all from us?" The doppelganger grinned, flexing his bicep playfully. "What can we say? When you're enhanced like us, everything's bigger - including our loads." "Speaking of which," Brock said, stepping onto the scale. The doppelganger joined him, their massive frames barely fitting on the platform. The digital display flickered before settling on 269 kg. "Interesting," the doppelganger mused. "We lost about a kilogram in cum production." Ollie's brow furrowed in confusion. "Wait, but there's two liters in the bucket. Shouldn't you have lost two kilograms?" Both Brocks moved to the kitchen, downing several glasses of water in quick succession to replenish their fluids. As they drank, Brock explained, "Our enhanced lungs can actually absorb water vapor from the air to compensate for fluid loss." "Really?" Ollie asked, fascinated. "Yep," the doppelganger added, finishing another glass. "We can extract moisture from the atmosphere like some kind of dehumidifier. Comes in handy when you produce as much cum as we do." Once the room was back in order, they headed to the spacious shower. The glass enclosure was barely large enough to contain their muscular bodies, but they managed to squeeze in together. Warm water cascaded over them as they began to wash each other, hands roaming over bulging muscles and firm flesh. Brock lathered up Ollie's back, his strong hands working out the knots in the smaller man's muscles. The doppelganger focused on Ollie's front, paying special attention to his abs and chest. Ollie found himself sandwiched between the two muscle gods, their touch igniting sparks of pleasure across his skin. As they cleaned each other, they exchanged tender kisses. Ollie turned his head, meeting Brock's lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Then he turned to the doppelganger, their tongues dancing as the water washed over them. A thought occurred to Ollie as he watched the two Brocks move in perfect sync. "Hey," he said, pulling back from a kiss. "Can you two... I don't know, communicate telepathically or something? Share consciousness?" The Brocks exchanged a knowing smile. "As a matter of fact," Brock began. "We can," the doppelganger finished. "It's like we're two bodies with one mind." "That's incredible," Ollie marveled, his hands tracing the ridges of their abs. "So you always know what the other is thinking?" "More or less," Brock nodded. "It comes in handy, especially in situations like this." They finished their shower, drying off and dressing in tight tank tops and shorts that clung to their muscular frames like a second skin. The fabric strained against their bulges, leaving little to the imagination. As they made their way to the kitchen, Ollie's stomach growled audibly. Brock laughed, patting Ollie's flat stomach. "Sounds like someone worked up an appetite. Let's get some food in you." They set about preparing a hearty, protein-rich dinner. Ollie watched in amazement as the two Brocks moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, their actions perfectly coordinated. One Brock manned the stove, expertly flipping steaks and sautéing vegetables, while the other prepared a massive salad and mixed protein shakes. "This is incredible," Ollie said, shaking his head in wonder. "You guys are like a well-oiled machine. Everything gets done so quickly with an extra set of hands." The doppelganger winked at him. "Just wait till you see what else these extra hands can do later." As they sat down to eat, Ollie noticed the sheer volume of food on the table. "That's... a lot of food," he said hesitantly. "Are you sure we can eat all this?" Brock nodded, already digging into his steak. "Don't worry about it, baby. Our metabolisms are enhanced now. We burn through calories like you wouldn't believe." "That's right," the doppelganger added, shoveling a forkful of salad into his mouth. "We don't get fat from food anymore. And we don't need much exercise to maintain all this muscle mass either." Ollie's eyes widened. "Seriously? You can eat whatever you want and stay looking like... well, like that?" He gestured to their godlike physiques. Brock grinned, flexing his bicep. "Yep. All this is pretty much permanent now. We could sit on the couch eating pizza all day and still look like Greek gods." "Though we prefer to stay active," the doppelganger chimed in. "Just because we don't need to work out doesn't mean we don't enjoy it." As they ate, Ollie marveled at the seemingly bottomless appetites of the two Brocks. They devoured plate after plate of food, washing it all down with protein shakes. Yet despite the enormous caloric intake, their abs remained perfectly defined, visible even through their tight shirts. "This is unreal," Ollie said, shaking his head in amazement. "You guys are like... I don't even know. Superhumans?" Brock reached across the table, taking Ollie's hand in his. "We're whatever you want us to be, baby. And we're all yours." Ollie felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. He knew that with these two insatiable muscle gods, the night was far from over. As he looked from one Brock to the other, taking in their handsome faces and mouthwatering physiques, he couldn't help but feel like the luckiest man alive.