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(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, this is what happens when you're too damn clever! Twenty-years ago, I wrote the first two chapters of CYCLE ONE -- each imply a malevolent force behind the creation/ distribution of the sports drink, but who was it? I never answered that question within the text of CYCLE ONE, but while I was writing the original KING REX series a few years later, I playfully connected the two universes, revealing that the secret ingredient in Cycle One was the mystical cum of the super-villain, King Rex. (Here I am twenty-years later trying to crawl out of the mess created by that decision! So, as you will see in the coming story, characters from both "franchises" populate these pages. You don't necessarily need to read both of those stories to understand this one, but... it's kind of fun, in a completest kind of way... (Let me know if you think I succeeded or not. Hope you enjoy!) ******************************************************************************************************* CYCLE ONE: FOUR BACKSTORIES ONE: There’s a mom&pop coffee shop in Ellicott City, MD, that the writer favors, not just for the view and the free wi-fi, but because it’s intimate and quiet -- he can sort his thoughts before he writes without worry of distraction. He leaves his little apartment, walks the steep downhill toward the Patapsco River, and spends his mornings writing at the coffee shop, enjoying the sunrise over the rushing water. He’s a big man, thick and solid -- not at all the build one would expect a writer to have -- but small compared to the bodybuilder that suddenly enters the shop, a very muscular man dressed in tight joggers and matching jacket over a t-shirt that fits him like spandex. The guy moves like he’s not used to the dimensions of his own muscular body. Awkward. The writer has seen this kind of thing before -- although, it’s been long enough that he’s surprised to see it again. It’s possible that the guy has never adjusted to the change, the growth, but that seems unlikely, not after nearly twenty years. This is too fresh. The bodybuilder spots the writer and a small, hopeful expression appears on his face. He crosses to the writer’s corner booth in a few heavy steps. “Sam Bennett?” he asks. The writer sighs and looks up, locking eyes with the bodybuilder. “Can I help you?” he asks. “I sure hope so,” the bodybuilder says. “My name is Ben Fortunato and I’m in desperate need of help.” He indicates the seat on the opposite side of the booth. “May I?” he asks. Sam nods and the big, Italian bodybuilder squeezes into the booth. “Mr. Fortunato…” “Ben.” “Ben... “ The writer draws a breath for strength. “What brings you by?” (He asks in a tone that implies he knows the answer already.) Ben pulls something out of his jacket pocket and sets it on the table between them. A crisp new bottle of CYCLE ONE, a magic potion disguised as a sports drink. There is a growing horror on Sam Bennett’s face as he stares at the bottle. “What the fuck?” he asks. “Are you kidding? Is that real?” He pushes it back toward Ben. “Jesus Christ, do you know what people would DO to you to get that? Put it away before someone sees it!” He looks around, paranoid -- nothing’s amiss, nobody else is even in the room, but it doesn’t stop his panic. “Put it the fuck away!” Ben is confused, but does as he’s told. “I just wanted to prove I was legit.” But Sam didn’t lose his intensity. “You realize people will fucking KILL you for that? You know that, right? There are some crazy motherfuckers out there, Ben -- addicts, all of them! And they will do anything for their drug of choice. Where the fuck did you find that? No, wait, don’t tell me -- I don’t want to know.” “I have a lot more than this one bottle.” Sam Bennett, the writer, takes another breath -- he likes to believe he’d be stronger than this, but it’s right there in the man’s pocket… Sam could just TAKE it… Why is he even entertaining the thought? It’s been nearly twenty years… Does he really still want it that badly…? “Ben,” he asks instead, “do you understand what addiction is?” Ben’s expression is unreadable. “Yeah, I’m getting a pretty good idea…” “Imagine you’re taking a drug that makes lifting better than sex, and sex better than anything. Imagine that you spend a good few years of your life getting other guys hooked on it, turning them into addicts, too. Imagine that you do that for pay -- good pay -- and INCREDIBLE bonuses! And the world is just one powerful playground ripe for the taking. “And then one day, the drug disappears -- it goes out of production, the magic formula is lost, whatever -- new stock isn’t being produced. What’s left is what’s left. “And people go fucking crazy! First, it’s the guys with money -- they try to stockpile it -- the would-be dealers and petty hoarders. There’s fights over it, attacks, takeovers -- guns are always blazing and bodies -- big, muscular bodies -- begin piling up. Gangs form -- safety in numbers, right? -- some become cults, worshipping the drug and the drug’s creator. They isolate, hiding with their horde, fighting to be the last guy with the last drop. It’s the Supply War -- it’s a dark time led by power-hungry addicts. “But there’s another type, too -- another kind of guy, fewer in number, of course. Guys who understand and accept that it’s addiction -- they form support groups specializing in this drug. And there they learn how to navigate their lives without it, without this incredible drug that makes lifting better than sex and sex better than anything. Without it, they don’t get pumps at the gym anymore -- so lifting loses its… magic. No pumps, no good workouts, so bodies… don’t remain in the same condition. They still keep most of the size, but they get softer, saggier. “And of course, sex loses its vibrancy. I mean, what’s the use? You don’t feel attractive, so you stop attracting and pretty soon self-gratification is your only option -- and you don’t feel much like pleasing yourself, either.” He sighs, looking far away. “I know you didn’t come all this way to hear that, Ben,” the writer says, re-establishing eye-contact, “but you should know there are no happy endings when it comes to CYCLE ONE.” Ben speaks quietly. “I’m really sorry,” he says sincerely. “It wasn’t my intent to trigger you. I just wanted to have a conversation with someone who understands and can help me.” The writer does something mildly out of character and lays his hand on Ben’s arm. “Ben, I can connect you with several support groups…” Ben almost laughs. “It’s not that,” he says. “Honestly, I don’t care if I never drink another drop of this shit again! Isn’t that funny? As a kid, I dreamed of having a body like this -- getting a body like this by drinking a magic potion, in fact -- super-hero shit -- and now my life is one big fucking nightmare. No, the problem isn’t with me -- it’s my brother, Glenn. I mean, you wanna talk about addicts…? He’s been on a two-week binge…” Sam Bennett cocks his head curiously. “Two weeks…? How much CYCLE ONE do you have?” They make eye contact and Ben speaks quietly. “About twelve-hundred cases,” he says, waiting for a reaction like he’s revealed a poker hand. But Sam Bennett is silent, immovable -- stunned. “What the fuck..?” he finally whispers. “Do you have any idea how much danger you’re in?” Ben shakes his head -- he’s being misunderstood. “It’s not me, so much, it’s my brother. I need to know how to stop him from drinking it -- like, separating him from it, you know? I just… he’s not listening…” “No, I mean your life is in danger! There are people who will kill you for the bottle you have hidden in your pocket, much less a case!” He forces himself to a whisper again. “And you have a THOUSAND cases!” He shakes his head in disbelief. “You have clearly stumbled across someone’s stash and it’s only a matter of time before they come looking for it -- or for you. This is like mafia-shit, Ben -- I’m totally serious! And just by talking to me, you’re risking my life, too!” There’s a moment when Ben considers continuing this conversation, but then realizes there’s nothing to gain in it. He sighs and stands. “I’m really sorry to have bothered you,” he says, offering his hand. “Thank you for talking to me.” They shake and Sam partially rises. “I’m sorry, too,” he says. “I don’t mean to be so… well, it threw me to see the stuff again… I hope you understand. But I still hope you take my words to heart.” “I will,” Ben says. “There is someone I can connect you with,” Sam says. “He can probably offer a solution for your brother, but, um… I wouldn’t tell him about the stash. I wouldn’t trust him.” Ben nods. “Thank you.” And just as Ben is about to leave the coffee shop into the warm, morning sunshine of Ellicott City, Sam calls him back. “You know, Ben,” he says, swallowing his guilt, “on second thought, I will take that bottle.” Knowingly, Ben nods, smiling slightly in support. The writer doesn’t make eye contact with him, looking shamefully at the floor, broken by his confession, his own addiction. Ben places the bottle on the table and leaves -- he doesn’t see how long it takes for Sam Bennett to touch it. Imagine, lecturing Ben Fortunato on addiction -- or warning an Italian about the mafia! Jesus God, ridiculous! Still, Sam Bennett is right about one thing: there are no happy endings with CYCLE ONE. *********************************************************************************** TWO: “Welcome, brother,” the nearly naked bodybuilder says, wrapping Ben in a hug in the doorway of the church. “I’m glad you’re here.” For Ben, who’s never considered himself gay, this connection is a little too intimate, but there’s a strange masculine pleasure brewing, too. (He can’t help but remember what he and his brother had done when he first…) Fucking CYCLE ONE… “Thank you for meeting me,” Ben says, trying gently to pull away -- the bodybuilder doesn’t just let him. Instead, the moment becomes awkward -- especially when Ben can feel the nearly naked bodybuilder start to get hard in his tiny little thong, pressing against the inside of Ben’s hip. Worse, Ben can feel his own dick start to respond. “The pleasure’s all mine,” the bodybuilder says. “You smell fresh.” Ben breaks the hug and steps back. “Excuse me?” “It’s still in your system, the Cycle One,” the bodybuilder says. “You’ve had it so recently, I can smell it. I’d consider it an honor if you let me have your cum.” Ben is shocked -- speechless. The bodybuilder smiles, adjusting his hooded cape back across his shoulders, slitted open in the front to reveal his pouch. “It’s a sacrament, not sex,” he says. “You ARE new! Come inside and let’s talk -- welcome to the Brotherhood of Rex, the last remaining sect.” He leads Ben into the large, airy cathedral. “I’m Father John J,” the bodybuilder says warmly. “I’ve been the leader of this sect since our Lord plunged into the Multiverse.” They enter the sanctuary, Ben notes the lack of pews and such, just soft matting on lounge chairs set up to face the Altar, a towel on the back of each seat -- the place smells immaculately clean and fresh. He sees that there are superheroes on the stained glass, not religious figures, but he doesn’t have much time to process that as they come upon the altar. Ben swears it’s merely a California King-Size Bed with a black spandex/neoprene fitted sheet, but in this atmosphere, it feels more important. At the head of the bed -- of the altar -- stands a marble statue of a hugely muscled, hyper-masculine god -- an ancient greek statue given a 21st century physique. He’s a handsome man, with strong features and a build that would seem impossible if Ben hadn’t seen what he’s so recently seen. Ridiculously wide shoulders sloping to the tiniest of waists then exploding out again in a sweep of thigh. But that’s if you could NOT get distracted by the statue’s overladen balls and fantasy cock, erect and gently bending up. It’s so lifelike, it’s as if Father John J had poured white paint over a live model who’s eight feet tall and just standing there frozen -- it’s disconcerting. Father John J genuflects before the statue and speaks, looking only at the statue’s face. “This is our Lord and Creator,” he says reverently. “The Living God now lost in the Multiverse, King Rex. I am honored to be among the first he transformed -- I even aided him in the acquisition of Superion, His Majesty’s consort and husband. Pardon my prideful bragging, but there’s a reason I am where I am, and I sincerely doubt you’ve read my resume.” Ben legit smiles -- strange as all this is, he still maintains his humor -- it helps diffuse the anxiety. “No, I haven’t. The truth is I was sent here by Sam Bennett.” “Sam Bennett?” asks Father John J. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a few years. How’s… um… how’s Sam?” “He seems well,” Ben says, shrugging. “I mean, he was a little surprised to see me and warned me extensively about continuing this journey -- he made it all sound very mafia.” Father John J nods understandingly. “His perspective has always featured a little paranoia -- it’s one of the things that makes his fiction so good. Come, let’s go to my office where we can talk a little more comfortably.” HIs office is surprisingly simple for a religious leader, fairly modern and standard but for another… altar in the back -- this looks more queen-sized than the altar in the sanctuary, same sheeting, though. Father John J directs him to the sitting area by the window and Ben takes one of two comfortable chairs. Father John J removes his cape, draping it across the altar and, dressed only in his golden thong and slippers, takes the other chair. Ben is still awed by the Father’s body, the impossible made flesh. (Nearly as big as his brother…) “I’m sorry,” the Father says. “I’ve been rude. Would you like something to drink? Coffee, water… Cycle One?” Father John J smiles in a teasing way. Ben snorts and unconsciously crosses his arms. “No, thank you,” he says, forcing a smile. “I appreciate you meeting me on such short notice -- time is… important.” Father John J nods. “Tell me what brings you here, Ben.” Ben is thoughtful for a moment, as if he’s debating whether to confess at all, much less to what extent. “You’re safe here,” Father John J says. “You’re Catholic, right? Let’s consider this confessional.” He leans back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head and inadvertently flexing his abs -- not many priests do that. “Thank you,” Ben says, still not at ease, but he sighs audibly and starts his monologue. “My brother and I… purchased a storage lot, three connected units. It was a blind buy, so we had no idea what we were getting, just someone’s abandoned junk, we assumed. It turned out to be a stash of Cycle One. And someone had clearly been living there, guarding it -- hell, one whole unit was a gym for this poor guy, and the next was the living quarters. “So we find this stash of Cycle One -- there’s something… familiar about it in the back of my mind, but I can’t remember what, and my brother drinks one like they haven’t been sitting there twenty years! I mean, like, who the fuck knows what’s really in the bottles and have the preseratives turned to poison or has there been some kind of freaky fermentive process? I mean, he’s fuckin’ CRAZY!” Father John J is thoughtful, curious. He gently asks, “How many bottles were there?” Fortunately, Ben is not so far gone that he doesn’t recognize the ploys of priests -- he WAS an altar boy, after all. He’s deceptive. “Let’s just say, quite a few,” he says, which doesn’t satisfy the Father, but it will have to do. “And he starts exercising, you know, playing around on the gym equipment, feeling all energetic and silly. I immediately blame the Cycle One -- so does he. And he starts slugging them down like it’s a frat party and he’s arrived late. “Because of some… bungling on my part, I ended up getting locked outside with my brother trapped inside and I had to run home to get the tools necessary to free him! It was an incredibly stressful few hours, but I did take the time to do some internet research on Cycle One -- that was how I connected it with King Rex. “I was fifteen, sixteen at the time that all went down, when all the superheroes suddenly became hypermasculine homosexuals -- I had no idea it was connected to Cycle One!” The Father smiles. “The cum of our Lord and Creator, the Living God lost in the Multiverse.” Ben is quiet again, lost in his own thoughts. The Father prods him. “Is your brother still trapped?” “Hmm?” Ben says, coming back to the moment. “No, not anymore. Not by accident.” Father John J tilts his head like an interested dog. “So, I went back. I got tools and I went back to free him. I’d only been gone, like, five, five-and-a-half hours -- it was crazy. I had no idea what Cycle One could do! I mean, I’m trying to free him and from inside he suddenly… rips the sliding door from its track and destroys it and… he’s HUGE! I mean, bigger than you and you’re fucking HUGE!” The Father can’t help but run a hand over his massive torso, and neither of them miss the twitch of his dick. “And he’s dressed the same way as you, in barely nothing, and he’s roaring and flexing and his cock is hard and um… I trip back over a piece of cinderblock and whap my head against the wall and pass out.” He smiles. “Glamorous.” The Father is wise enough to know that he shouldn’t interrupt, but he does offer a comforting smile. “When I wake up, I don’t know how much time has passed, but I discover my brother has chained me to one of the pallets…” “‘ONE of’...?” “Yeah,” Ben says, unthinking, lost in his own story. “And in order to get to the keys, I’d have to be strong enough to drag it across the room.” He swallows. “Only one way to do that.” There is another awkward silence as Ben gathers the strength to continue. “And as if that weren’t enough, he literally sealed me in, cemented the wall with old cinderblocks -- real Edgar Allen Poe shit, you know? He’s crazy, right? I mean… I had to… drink or die. Worse, he’s FILMING the fucking moment, too! So I get to have my humiliation digitally preserved forever. I was so fucking pissed…” The Father reaches over and puts his hand on Ben’s knee. They make eye-contact briefly. “You don’t have to tell me…” “I do,” Ben says. “I need you to know why I need your help.” He places his hand on top of the Father’s -- Father John J adjusts so they can hold hands. Ben is near tears. “You know what the stuff is like,” Ben says quietly. “The way it makes you feel -- the power and the masculine explosion of strength and desire and will. At first, it feels like it’s churning there in your balls, forcing the creation of testosterone, linking sexuality with the spirit, the cock and the muscle. God, I’ve hardly talked about it, because I’m trying so hard not to want it again -- because it’s fucking incredible, that feeling! That like… righteous anger that fills you with the belief… that you’ve gained power -- that you’re somebody!” Even Ben can’t help his cock’s reaction, that twitch of desire -- or memory. “And you feel like you can do anything, like even drag a heavily laden pallet across a cement floor. And if you fail, you just slug back another bottle of the magic potion until it amplifies everything all over again -- but especially the emotion, the masculine connection. It’s like coke, or meth, like that -- this… false sense of power. “Pushing the pallet was easier than pulling it -- it was like hitting sleds at high school football practice -- and the pallet scraped its way slowly across the floor. Each inch it moved was a triumph for me -- I swear, I’d celebrate by downing another bottle of Cycle One, like a fucking addict lost!” “Sounds like a lot of Cycle One,” the Father said, unable to hide his growing erection. “It usually takes only ten-to-twelve to complete the transformation.” Ben scoffs. “I had way more than that,” he says. “Maybe it’s old.” Father John J smiles gently. “Maybe,” he says. “Go on.” “Well, I had to… uh… get through the wall,” Ben says, trying to hide his own hard-on. “My brother had cinderblocked me in, remember.” Father John J shakes his head in disbelief. “Amazing…” “Turns out he had it wrong -- moving the pallet was WAY harder than destroying the wall. The wall was just… a couple of punches and some torn stone. The cement hadn’t really set -- there hadn’t been enough time -- so it wasn’t that difficult to get through. Though, I admit, I did get a couple of scratches and a shit-ton of semi-wet cement in my hair. But right then I was flying so high on the Cycle One, I wasn’t feeling ANYTHING real. “And I break through this wall and I’m feeling mighty and manly and there sits my brother on the cot, jerking off. He’s huge, I mean, bigger than when I’d seen him when he’d torn the door off its track, just… impossibly huge. “And his cock…” Ben almost doesn’t continue, looking down, remembering, then he speaks on. “I never wanted a cock before. I never… desired…” He licks his lips. “And it wasn’t that I wanted his cock so much as I wanted what was inside him -- his essence. His power.” “‘Well, look at you,’ my brother said, playing with himself. ‘You got BIG!’” “And instead of being weirded out by that, I realized he was right -- I HAD gotten big! I hadn’t really paid that much attention. My loose t-shirt was now too tight because of the muscle I’d never had before -- I ripped it off with glee, flexing my big pecs, my insane arms! I was rock hard celebrating my rock hardness! “So, the whole gay incest thing was unexpected -- at least it was for me, maybe Glenn had had some more time wrap his head around it, but I sure hadn’t considered the sexual response. For me, it was all about the Me Big, Me Strong thing -- it wasn’t until I realized that my cock was part of the equation that I got Me Horny, too! “And it just felt so weirdly natural, jerking off with my muscular brother while we flexed for each other. He had me wear this electric blue thong he’d found in the dresser -- I’d never worn anything like it, so scanty and sexy -- but I looked AMAZING in it! My fucking body -- in the mirror, hypnotized by my own reflection, so turned on by myself. “We worked out and pumped up and flexed and he kept pounding back the Cycle One, bottle after bottle. “Pretty soon flexing and jerking off weren’t enough anymore. Men fuck. And um… when my own brother tried to fuck me… that was the end for me. I… I couldn’t.” A tear rolls down Ben’s cheek. Father John J hugs him, drawing him in close. Ben tries not to weep, but loses the battle, hugging Father John J back -- he’s ashamed of his erection. Father John J seems to be okay with it, pressing himself even closer against the hardness. “Everything’s okay,” Father John J whispers. “I will help you with your brother, but first things first.” Using his right hand, he casually strokes Ben’s erection. “Let’s make an offering to God.” ******************************************************************************* THREE: In the Beginning, Rex the Almighty was born on this Earthly plane, a mutant to two normal mortals. His Divine Power manifested as He ascended to manhood -- transforming mortals into His worshipful slaves by granting them muscle mass and a spark of His Hyper-Masculine Energy. Finding himself ready to accept His destiny, our Lord Rex began His Holy Crusade, the elevation of the Super-Hero. Until this time, no one had submitted the Mighty Superion, the greatest of all the mortal heroes. His power and will were legendary, until humbled by our Lord. Rex not only enslaved Superion, He took the hero as His Royal Consort. And unlike most marriages of powerful families, these newlyweds truly and deeply loved one another. This marriage was blessed by the gods themselves. Rex continued His Divine Campaign and recruited the Justice Club itself to His cause -- at one crucial point, He absorbed the mystic lightning used to transform Timmy Thompson into the Planet’s Most-Powerful Protector, Captain Thunder, and Rex was elevated even further, truly becoming KING Rex, the most powerful man on the planet! His Majesty discovered that His ejaculate had been mystically enhanced, as was fitting for a living god -- with little more than a drop, He could transform a mortal man into a hypermuscular slave without using His God-gifted powers. Diluting it, packaging it, and marketing it as the sports drink, “Cycle One” was a stroke of His genius -- it began the subtle transformation of the masses into His worshipful followers. These were the Glory Days of the Church! The Acolyte John J was the first man transformed by His Majesty, King Rex, the Living God. A museum security guard, the skinny waste of a man John J quickly cast aside his old life to follow His Saviour and Transformer. Blessed by the gift of Rex’s power, John J now had the body of his dreams, power he’d only imagined, and finally, a purpose for his purposeless life. He was more than happy to recruit other men into the fold, to help them experience the bliss of worshipping King Rex, their creator and Living God. The Acolytes John J and Sam Bennett distributed the Cycle One, turning gyms into churches and athletic departments into sects. All of that male sexual energy further empowered His Majesty, creating a never-ending cycle of growth. A worship service could have as many as a thousand muscular men cramming the sanctuary, praising His Majesty as they edged themselves into Bliss -- it was possible to actually see King Rex grow from the worship. There was no greater reward. And then, the Great Tragedy -- King Rex lost in the Multiverse! Thus began the Period of Despair -- the Consort Superion went into mourning, completely unable to function or uphold his duties, emotionally devastated to lose his King and lover. For weeks, he remained cloistered in their marital chambers, not seeing visitors, not spending time in the sun -- he weakened, some thought, hoping to die. There was dysfunction in the Church, suddenly lacking a spiritual leader. With their Lord and Saviour trapped in the Multiverse and Superion unwilling to take His place as figurehead, there was nothing to hold the flock together. The men who’d been transformed by His Majesty, the Almighty King Rex, suffered only emotionally. Those who’d been transformed by the Cycle One lost touch with the magic, their masculine spirit. With Rex gone, the supply of Cycle One was suddenly finite -- that was the conclusion many reached at once. The fight for the remaining reserve became the next battlefront. Men who’d been long-addicted to the stuff suddenly lost the will to train, the ability to get a pump, their interest in sex -- they knew they’d never again get that rush, that high without Cycle One. And thus began the Supply War. It was during this low-level, guerilla-style warfare -- bloody and heartless as it was fast becoming -- that the Acolyte John J began to counsel the Consort Superion, trying to get him past his crushing loss to see how badly the world needed a champion again. All this bloodshed, all this death for a drug made out of his husband’s cum -- this is what finally brought Superion to action. In less than a week, he’d recovered most of the lost stock of Cycle One, returning it to the vaulted catacombs in the bedrock deep beneath the Church. He still refused to participate in Religious Services, but created a statue of his Husband and Lord that stands in the Sanctuary today, as a reminder. Instead, it became the Acolyte John J’s mission to save the Church -- but he immediately realized it wasn’t religion these men needed, it was counseling. They were addicts and their god was gone. Without the drug, they were unable to access their own masculine energy. Workouts lost their meaning -- sex became impossible. And thus evolved the practice of Group Masturbation, sexual stimulation with the goal of connecting to the masculine spirit, building energy by edging, the harnessing of energy rather than ejaculation. On Cycle One, sex had always been about power -- now sexual energy was used to build power. Men who were used to getting powerful, rock-hard erections now had to take a step back, relearn stimulation and fantasy, enjoy the other wonders of the body, the taint, the balls, the asshole. Sex was more than penetration. Training changed, too -- the evolution of Connective Bodybuilding, forging a link between cock and muscle. In the Before Time, the gym had become a place almost as sacred as the Church. Cycle One had always made working out better than sex, but now there was no more Cycle One, so no connection to masculine energy. Weight training required almost too much adaptation, further separating those who’d been transformed by the Almighty from those who’d only had the Cycle One. Imagine how disheartening it would be to see some men still achieve the kind of pump you used to be able to get, but now could not -- to lift the kind of weights you used to handle with ease, but now could not. It was too hard for too many. The Acolyte John J -- now FATHER John J -- protectively doled out the Church’s supply of Cycle One in the form of Communion. A shot glass of Cycle One for the faithful once a week, then engaging in Group Masturbation while singing the praises of the Almighty Rex. Many men lost the Path, strayed. Spiritual readiness takes patience and no one began taking Cycle One because they were patient. Some men preferred their misery to the challenge of rebuilding their sexual power. After the deaths, the abandonments, the suicides, there were just a few hundred in the congregation, masturbating together and praying. As the years passed without a Second Coming, more and more fell away -- then it was a decade, then it was two. “And so here we are,” Father John J says, gently pushing Ben to a seated position on the Altar, facing the statue of King Rex. “There’s only a handful of us now, awaiting Him, praying for His return.” He kneels between Ben’s legs and unlaces Ben’s tight joggers. “But we have learned things in this time,” he continues, pulling Ben’s joggers down over his newly-muscled thighs. “Things about pleasure, the giving and receiving of it.” Ben wears a sparkly thong, barely holding his enhanced genitals -- his erection fights the material. “Let me show you,” Father John J says, releasing Ben from the confines of the thong -- his hard-on flops up on his muscular abs. “I’m not gay,” Ben mumbles, leaning back on his elbows, the soft matting of the Altar accepting his weight. “But ever since the Cycle One…” “It’s not about labels, Ben,” the Father says, gripping Ben’s erection at the base. “It’s about pleasure.” He licks the head of Ben’s cock and a shudder goes through the man. “Cycle One just bumps up your hormones and lowers your inhibitions -- neither of which will hurt you, unless it builds up in your system too much. Then you need release. Holy Release.” The Father’s hands are smooth and skilled -- a firm grip on Ben’s balls, thick fingers riding down the sides of his perineum, giving him sensations he’s never felt before -- strange new pleasure. Ben is losing himself in it. “What you feel is a gift,” says the Father, expertly swallowing the whole of Ben’s big new cock. He constricts his throat around Ben and waits for Ben’s natural thrusts before continuing. “A gift from His Majesty,” he says, lapping the tip of Ben’s cock, before descending on it again. “King Rex.” Ben looks up at the statue as the Father continues to work -- it’s unbelievable physique and impossible cock, so masculine and perfect. Ben can feel the Father fingering his asshole, gently teasing his way inside, searching for Ben’s secret button. The statue holds its arms open, as if ready to accept worship -- or orgasm -- or offering. What happens next makes no sense. The Father’s skilled mouth works in tandem with his talented fingers and, just as the Father discovers Ben’s prostate, Ben swears he sees the statue open its eyes and look directly at him, into his soul. “REX!” he screams as his orgasm overwhelms him! Not that the Father lets any get away, but Ben knows there’s a lot of cum -- he can feel it like his cock is a firehose. He shoots and shoots, crying to Heaven, certain the statue is real. “Yes, my brother,” the Father says, lapping Ben’s fading erection, cleaning every delicious drop away. “Now you feel Rex’s power. Give yourself up to it.” “I… I…” “Say it,” the Father says, standing, masturbating his own giant cock. “Let me hear you say it.” Ben smiles. “Hail King Rex,” he says, as the Father allows himself to orgasm, as if the words put him over the edge. “HAIL KING REX!” the Father yells, echoing through the sanctuary, shooting a thick rope of cum across Ben’s face. Father John J smiles again. “You’ve been baptised now in the name of our saviour, King Rex,” he says calmly, milking the last drops of cum from his cock and offering his finger to Ben -- Ben gratefully takes it in his mouth. “You are now one of us.” “Thank you,” Ben says, relieved, watching the Father refit his big package into that tiny little thong. “I actually feel better -- I feel the release. But what do we do now?” “Now we save your brother,” the Father says. “And I know just the guy…” “You’ll do that for me?” Ben asks, suddenly joyful, standing and redressing himself. “Thank you!” “Well,” the Father says, playfully kissing Ben, “we should first discuss a TITHE…” ******************************************************************************** FOUR: Ben parks the truck outside the ETERNAL STORAGE building, an old, abandoned facility scheduled for demolition (to build an Amazon distribution center -- welcome to the modern world). The parking lot is cracked and broken, stray grass and weeds growing wherever they can, reclaiming the land. It’s surrounded by a rusty chain link fence topped with barb wire. The building is in no better shape, holding its form only because it’s made from cinderblocks, but suggesting the same sort of neglect. Behind the wheel, Ben forces a deep breath before exiting the cab, in an attempt to settle himself -- it’s obvious he’s nervous, no matter the supportive talk from his passenger, Father John J. Ben is dressed in the same tight gray jumpers he wore to the Church -- the Father wears black spandex shorts, black wrist gauntlets, sandals, and a form-fitting white t-shirt that reads “REX = KING”. Exiting the cab, the Father, looking around, says, “You’re right. This IS the middle of nowhere.” Ben nods, shutting the driver’s side door behind him and looking toward the building. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I hope nothing’s happened to him.” “Who?” Father John J asks. “Oh, you mean your brother! I thought you meant…” And then, from out of the sky, a being lands on the ground before them with a surprising amount of force, breaking into the cement and creating a small crater from his weight. It’s the hero Superion! Ben has seen pictures, of course, but has never seen him live -- and the pictures don’t do him anywhere near justice! If he’s not seven-feet tall, then he’s six-and-three-quarters -- it doesn’t seem possible that a being with a build like Superion’s could exist at his height. He’s almost a giant in a children’s story, he’s so colossally large -- human proportions, but so much taller! And the muscle -- the mind-boggling muscle! Like Father John J, Superion has been transformed by King Rex, given the Royal Gift of Mass and Power, Hypermasculine Endowment, and Sexual Realignment. As Royal Consort, he’s second only to Rex Himself -- and with Rex lost in the Multiverse, Superion reigns supreme. He wears black combat boots and bright blue leggings, accented by black piping, that proudly display his oversized package and seem to barely contain the mass of his leg muscles or his thick, ripped glutes. They’re low-waisted, so that the buckle of his belt sits at the base of his cock, allowing us to see his extremely ripped abs unencumbered. Shirtless, he wears only a harness that supports his “S” shield and acts as the anchor for his red cape. Bigger than the biggest bodybuilder, his pecs are round and thick and his pink nipples hide just below the bottom edge. But it’s the width of shoulders that gives Ben pause, those crazy way-larger-than-coconut delts -- bowling ball delts! -- the strong, confident arms, the artistic curve of the lats. And if you can take your eyes from his body, to see his thick neck, his square jaw, his sunny blue eyes, his very kissable lips… Superion strides toward them, breaking Ben’s thought. He smiles, glowing white teeth catching the light. “Hello, Johnny,” he says, opening his arms for a hug. Father John J takes a knee. “Your Majesty,” he says, bowing his head. Superion puts his finger beneath the Father’s chin and raises his head. “Johnny,” he says earnestly, “it’s been twenty years. We have to move on.” He takes Father John J’s hands and raises him to his feet, then they hug. They hold each other very closely -- Ben isn’t sure if Father John J is crying or not. “He will come again,” the Father says, into Superion’s pec. Superion holds the back of Father John J’s head and whispers, “I dearly hope so” into the Father’s ear. He kisses Father John J’s forehead and releases him, turning his attention to Ben. “You must be Ben Fortunato,” he says, holding his hand out to shake. Ben considers dropping to his knees, that’s how strikingly beautiful this man is. Instead, he stammers, “Um… yes. Ben. And you must be… incredible!” Superion smiles broadly -- he’s heard this joke. “Superion,” he says, shaking Ben’s hand. “I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances.” “I’m so grateful for your help,” Ben says. Superion grunts. “Anything to put another one of these fires out,” he says, looking up at the building. Something happens to his eyes as he looks, but Ben can’t say exactly what. “He’s up there,” Superion announces, studying. “He’s okay -- he’s pretty big.” “Thank God he’s okay,” Ben says, crossing himself. “How big?” Father John J interrupts. “Is the Cycle One okay? How much is left?” They both look at the Father dryly. Superion says, “Do you know, Johnny, nothing would make me happier than to destroy this building and all the Cycle One in it -- you know that, right?” The Father squares off with him. “I do,” he says, trying to maintain his bravado. “But you won’t, right?” Superion smiles enigmatically. “I’m gonna go get your brother,” he says to Ben. “I won’t be a minute.” He enters the building and disappears from view. Ben and the Father don’t even have time to begin a conversation before the wall above them blows out, throwing chunks of cinderblock, cement, and bottles of Cycle One raining down like shrapnel as Superion’s body comes crashing through, flying about twenty feet before slamming into the ground. Superion stands, wiping the dust from himself -- with the back of his hand, he strokes the side of his jaw that has just been punched. Superion is clearly unhappy. He strides toward the building, kicking away the stray bottles, determined. “You guys might want to stand back,” he says. “He’s not being cooperative.” Superion flies back into the hole he just made. Seconds later, a different body crashes out through the roof -- not Superion -- a hugely muscled man dressed only in a pair of neon green short shorts that ride into his ass-crack. “For the love of God!” Ben yells. “GLENN!” His brother sails up about thirty or forty feet into the air before arcing down toward the ground. He lands hard on his back with a wind-losing smack. Trying to shake it off and stand, he snorts like an animal. Ben is trying to comprehend what his brother has become. Even in the few days since Ben last saw him, Glenn has grown. His brother had always been a heavy-set, snowman/ pear-shaped guy, wide hips and narrow shoulders. Now he’s a freak bodybuilder with a roidgut that rivals a beach ball, supporting these thick and ponderous limbs. It should be impossible for him to move, given the size of his muscle -- traps that almost keep him from turning his head, a back so wide he can’t lower his arms completely -- yet move he does, with confidence and surprising grace. Superion flies up out of the hole in the roof and lands about ten feet away from Ben’s brother. “Stop!” he commands, holding up a flat palm. But like an angry bull, perhaps egged-on by Superion’s flowing red cape, Glenn charges, gaining steam with each step. It takes little effort for Superion to side-step him, trip him, and force him forward till he slams into the side of the building. Glenn roars in anger, throwing a chunk of broken block at Superion. As Superion knocks it aside, Glenn takes advantage of the distraction and tackles Superion from the side, taking him to the ground. His brother is bigger than Superion! “He’s in a rage!” Father John J says as he and Ben seek a better observation spot, running to the far-side of the building -- Father John tries to grab the extra bottles. “His energy is out of control.” Glenn has Superion in a schoolboy pin, squatting across Superion’s torso, kneeling on his biceps, punching him over and over in the face, raging. “GLENN!” Ben calls, distracting his brother for just a moment, but enough. Glenn looks at Ben and Superion grabs Glenn’s fist, halting it mid-strike. Superion stands, holding Glenn by the wrist, spins him around and around like a lasso, before throwing him to the other side of the parking lot, where he lands with a loud crunch. “This guy’s pretty far gone,” Superion says to Father John J as Glenn starts to charge back across the lot -- a rhino. “Any ideas? I don’t want to hurt him.” “You have to release his pent-up energy,” Father John J frets, shaking his head as Glenn leaps into the air. “You have to…” Glenn lands within their circle and the reverberation knocks them all off their feet. He steps toward Ben, fierce anger filling his eyes, no recognition, but the hard-on beneath his spandex shorts is more than obvious. Before he can strike, however, Superion grabs him from behind in a full-nelson and flies them up about ten feet into the air. Glenn is trying to shake his grip, thrashing about, but he lacks leverage. That he’s sexually stimulated is lost on no one -- his erection throbs. “You have to make him cum!” Father John J yells. “You have to make him release!” Superion’s grimace speaks volumes, but he sighs and reaches around Glenn, grabbing Glenn’s erection at its thick base, rubbing his hand over the spandex material. Glenn reacts in a surprising way, moaning in his deep throat -- his whole drive seems to shift from “rage” to “lust” as easy as the stick on an old jalopy. He starts dry-humping the air, rubbing his ass against Superion. Horrified, Ben can’t look away. Of all the things he didn’t think he’d be seeing today, this had to top the list. On the other hand, his brother had tried to sexually engage Ben after Ben’s transformation, which had freaked Ben out so much he ran away and brought back Superion. And now it looks like Superion is enjoying himself, too -- there’s no hiding what’s going on in his blue leggings. Father John J had said Superion hasn’t had sex since his lover -- this King Rex -- got tossed into the Multiverse. How does someone go twenty years without sex? MONKS don’t even do that! “It’s not enough to jerk him off,” Father John J yells. “You have to... press his button!” Superion’s frustrated reaction weakens his grip on Glenn, who breaks Superion’s hold and suddenly drops to the ground with a heavy, dull thud. Superion is on him in a flash and the two of them wrestle in the parking lot -- but it isn’t to fight. This is different -- it’s two men squaring off. This is foreplay. Other than size, Glenn has no real advantage over Superion. And now that Superion has a new drive, there’s really no stopping him. Superion is erect himself, his cock as supremely out of proportion as everything else about him -- whatever else this Rex favors, it’s big-dicked muscle-bottoms. They flex at each other, Superion and Ben’s brother, a Most Muscular, an ab/ thigh -- showing off, mutual worship -- double biceps, erections straining flimsy material. Glenn smacks Superion’s pecs with an open hand, then squeezes the muscle as Superion flexes -- fucking rock hard -- punching cement. Looking each other in the eye, Glenn falls to his knees and begins mouthing Superion’s cock through the heavy spandex of Superion’s leggings. Superion unclasps his belt and releases it, allowing Glenn to take it in his mouth. Clearly at some level, Glenn knows what he needs. Or what he wants. “Get it wet,” Superion orders him. “Get it good and wet -- or it’s gonna hurt.” “What’s going on?” Ben asks Father John J as the Father collects stray bottles of Cycle One. Father John J looks at Superion, then at Ben. “He’s going to fuck him,” Father John J says. “He’s gotta fuck him and press his button, release the energy. Same as I did with you at the Church!” Ben crosses himself. “But you just used your fingers,” Ben says. “Why does he have to…?” Father John J shushes him. Glenn holds Superion’s cock in his fist and spits on the head, immediately putting it back in his mouth, soaking the thick, super-shaft. Superion pushes him onto his back, straddling Glenn’s chest to allow Glenn to continue sucking his cock, but putting Superion into a dominant position. Superion licks his fingers and reaches for Glenn’s hole -- so tight -- Glenn squirms, discovering a new sensation. “Yeah,” Superion says. “Big boy likes that.” “All Hail His Majesty’s Consort, the Mighty Superion,” Father John J intones, falling to his knees with an armful of bottles. “All praise King Rex!” Superion shoots Father John J a snide look. “Don’t do that shit, Johnny,” he says. “This is pragmatism, not Church! Toss me a bottle of that stuff!” “It IS Church!” Father John J argues, still on his knees. “You engage in the holiest of acts, a sacrifice -- an offering! I must pray!” Superion shakes his head but doesn’t argue. “Throw me a bottle of that stuff!” he says again. Father John J won’t release what he’s gathered, so it’s Ben who throws one to him -- or overthrows, actually -- he doesn’t know his own strength. Superion catches it with such confidence and ease that it makes it look like it had been intended that way. Superion cracks open the Cycle One, sniffs it -- a memory floats across his features -- and he pours a tiny bit over his cock, into Glenn’s desperate mouth. Glenn groans again, desperately lapping it off. Superion pulls his cock out of Glenn’s mouth and says, “On your hands and knees -- NOW.” He levitates slightly, allowing the three-hundred-plus giant to spin beneath him -- moving from one submissive pose to the next -- then he slowly pours the Cycle One down Glenn’s ass-crack, until it reaches the fingers Superion has against Glenn’s hole. Using the honey-thick Cycle One as lube, Superion pushes his fingers in. Glenn’s moan is a roar that can be heard for miles. “Bigger than that coming,” Superion says, pushing his fingers in and out. Father John J weaves while he prays. “We commend this energy to you, Great Lord, lost in the Multiverse, that it might find you and strengthen you for your journey home!” Superion yells. “Johnny, please!” as he pours the Cycle One on his hard cock, like sauce on a meaty rib. “Just let me do what I came here to do!” “Release it!” Father John J prays. “Give it back to the Master!” Superion slams his foot-long cock into Glenn’s waiting ass -- they both scream, both of them from a different sort of denial, but coming together here in this parking lot. Has there been a change in the light? Ben wonders, unable to take his eyes away from his brother’s submission. Where did this wind come from? “Can you feel it?” Father John J shouts. “CAN YOU FEEL THE MASTER?” Superion begins fucking Ben’s brother, doggie-style, gently at first, even then, barely keeping control of himself -- it’s been so long, Superion -- but then, even Glenn wants him to go harder, pushing his ass back into Superion’s cock, trying to form words. Trying to find his own button. And there’s something else around Superion, something familiar, whispering in his memory, filling him with strength and power -- a masculine spirit. Making him fuck -- forcing him to connect and dominate. It feels like his husband… Is he feeling the effects of Cycle One? He releases -- who fucking cares? Fuck -- Superion wants to fuck. He drives into Glenn’s ass, fucking so hard they break the pavement. It’s power and forgotten masculine urges, decades of repression. “CAN YOU FEEL IT?” Father John J yells above the din, the wind, the energy. “PRAY WITH ME! PRAY TO OUR LORD, LOST IN THE MULTIVERSE!” Superion fucks Glenn with his super-long cock, pounding a forgotten, manly rhythm in his loin, awakening something deep within him. The energy crackles like lightning around them. Ben falls to his knees, his legs weak -- what is he seeing? They’re fucking there in the broken parking lot, his brother and Superion, it’s broad daylight, but there’s a sense of darkness around them, reality seems to shift as their sexual energy grows. Superion groans. “I’m so close…” Glenn rises up on his knees, exposing own erection that rises exactly along the curve of his distended belly, almost to his navel. Glenn is flexing his arms in a double bis -- Superion uses them as anchors, deep-thrusting. “Gonna… cum…” “WE CALL ON THEE, GREAT LORD! WE GRANT THEE THIS OFFERING!” Superion, a being that hasn’t orgasmed in nearly two decades, shoots his almost impossible load -- Glenn, who has never anally-orgasmed, explodes with incredible pent-up masculine energy, his “overdose” on Cycle One, and climaxes simultaneously. They scream together, too, full-throated and deep. There’s an explosion -- well, something very much like one. It’s like nothing Ben has ever experienced before. There’s no sound, no BOOM -- it’s almost as if someone takes reality, twists it, and then releases it to snap back into place. The explosion -- if one can call it an explosion -- is energy, electricity and force, concussive and multi-layered. There is a soundless brightness that blows them all back -- Ben’s back slams into the wall of the Eternal building, cracking the brick. There’s a hissing in the background, like pink noise, that settles out of the silence -- and then Ben’s hearing comes back. Or reality comes back -- it’s hard to say. His brother Glenn’s body slams on the ground before him, steaming a little, digging up the asphalt a little more. He rolls over on his back directly in front of Ben. “GLENN!” Ben calls, scrambling over to his brother. He slaps his face. “Glenn, wake up! Oh, God… Oh, sweet God be okay.” Glenn comes to, a little disoriented -- the crazed, drug-addled look in his eye is gone. “Ben?” he asks, looking Ben in the eye. “What’s going on? I… Bro… what happened? You’re huge! Wait, I’M huge!” Ben chuckles. “It’s a long story,” he says, nearly in tears. “And I don’t think it’s over yet…” Both Superion and Father John J had been knocked back, too, in opposite directions. Superion is already recovering, steaming himself, studying the blast area. The spot where they’d cum is now a blown out pit, smoke and steam and electric crackles encircling it. Superion immediately checks on the others, locating and diagnosing their injuries -- bumps and bruises, but generally okay -- when he hears a moan come from the pit itself. What? How is that possible? Father John J hears the sound as well, and draws up onto his knees like a hopeful teen. As Superion stands on shaky feet, the figure in the pit finds his footing, too, his face hidden by the steam, the unnatural shadow, and electrical snaps. He is a giant of man, bigger than Superion, more powerful, more muscular. His god-given body beyond fantasy, his muscle on the edge of impossible. In his purple shorts with the gold piping, the golden boots and gauntlets, the simple over the shoulder cape and the electric-metal lightning bolt emblazoned on his chest, he is instantly recognizable. Especially to Superion. “Rex…?” he asks, a smile finding the corner of his mouth. “Is it really you?” The muscle god smiles. “Superion?” he asks. “Am I home? Am I finally home?” They fall into each other’s arms, laughing and kissing, relieved and amazed. Even Ben smiles, happy that there’s a happy ending with Cycle One for once. Glenn, confused, asks his tearful brother, “What’s happening…?” He’s answered by Father John J. “It is the return of His Majesty, Rex the Almighty!” Rex and Superion continue to kiss, flying up into the air together. Father John J opens his arms to the world. “IT IS THE SECOND COMING!” **************************************************************************************** EPILOGUE: “Hey everybody, this is Glenn!” “And this is Ben!” “We’re the Fortunato Brothers! And you’re watching another episode of ‘Can You Believe They Bought That Shit?’” TITLE -- THEME MUSIC “In this episode, we’re actually gonna be talking about SELLING shit for a change.” “Hey! Before we go on... Viewers, did you notice our new logo in the opening?” (CUTAWAY: the old logo, the Fortunato Brothers looking like cartoon Laurel & Hardy (one fat, one thin) fades to the new logo: Laurel & Hardy as bodybuilders, one arm wrapped around their brother and the other flexing their biceps. (CUT BACK to the live Brothers in the same pose as the logo, barely holding their laughter.) “If you’ve noticed we look a little different than we have in past episodes, but you don’t know why, it’s possible you missed our TRANSFORMATION SPECIAL that dropped a couple weeks ago.” “I don’t know, Ben. With over two-hundred million downloads, I don’t think many people have missed out TRANSFORMATION SPECIAL!” “It’s still available if you have, that’s all I’m saying…” “But what you HAVEN’T missed is what transformed us into this muscled perfection, the awesome sports drink CYCLE ONE!” Glenn reveals a bottle in frame, holding it for the camera to see -- plain, ordinary looking stuff for what it could do. “It took about a dozen of these to transform my skinny brother Ben there into THAT!” Ben flexes for the camera, his muscle pumped, his confidence high. “No lie,” Ben says. “Believe me, I would never have done this without CYCLE ONE -- I was too lazy and too weak. Not anymore.” Glenn wraps his massive arm around Ben’s neck and pulls him close -- he kisses the side of Ben’s head. “Isn’t he cute?” Glenn asks. “So, we’re doin’ something we don’t normally do: we’re selling some shit. CYCLE ONE, to be specific. You can get to my brother’s size with a twelve-pack -- you can get to mine with a case!” The brothers flex for the camera -- the spandex shirts they wear ripple with muscle. “We haven’t even talked about the biggest bonus!” Glenn continues to flex for the camera. “Tell ‘em, Ben!” “When you go to the bidding page, click the link to join King Rex’s Holy Order and be a Knight for His Majesty, the power behind Cycle One, the Living God, King Rex, once lost in the Multiverse but now found! Be His Knight, His Holy Warrior, and join the Crusade in His second coming!” Glenn laughs. “Geez, Ben, you sound like a fanboy!” Ben is sincere. “I witnessed God’s Second Coming, Glenn,” Ben says simply. “That kind of thing… changes a man…” ************************************************************************************* Sam Bennett pauses the video. He’s watched it a thousand times -- he knows what it says by heart, by now. Still, it’s the first thing to give him an erection in almost a decade. How should he feel about that? He presses Play. “...sound like a fanboy.” “I witnessed God’s Second Coming, Glenn. That kind of thing… changes a man…” Pause. Not really believing he’s doing it, but somehow certain it’s the right move, Sam Bennett presses the link to join the Knighthood, the Holy Order of King Rex. He does it because he wants to believe in Happy Endings.

“Hey everybody, this is Glenn!” “And this is Ben!” “We’re the Fortunato Brothers! And you’re watching another episode of ‘Can You Believe They Bought That Shit?’” TITLE -- THEME MUSIC “In this episode, we’re nosing in on the Storage Auction scene!” “Yeah, my brother and I took some of the profits we’ve made from our podcast this season and -- as usual -- WE BOUGHT SOME SHIT!” “What’d we get this time, Ben?” “That’s a good question, Glenn! The truth is -- I don’t know! Like everybody in the Storage Auction biz, we bought blind!” (EXTERIOR SHOT: Drone -- camera pans across the abandoned “ETERNAL STORAGE” building. There are faded egyptian pyramids painted on the storefront, symbolizing eternity -- subtly informing the viewer that they’ll own their junk forever. We can see the cracked asphalt of the old parking lot and the dilapidated condition of the building. Clearly, from the view, we’re in the middle of nowhere.) BEN (in VO): The Eternal Storage facility went out of business about a decade ago, but they never emptied it. Scheduled for demolition, “Eternal” decided to auction off the unclaimed lots, which these sorts of companies do regularly -- it’s even easier now, thanks to COVID. We bought our booty online. (INTERIOR SHOT: Hallway. Rows of storage units, resembling garage doors, run the dusty, broken down hallway. Some are open and empty, several are locked shut. The electric hall lights work by luck alone, creating a dim, prison-like atmosphere. The Buy-It Brothers are “Live” again. Glenn steps into frame.) “But you know us,” Glenn says, smiling his jowly, toothy grin at the camera. “We don’t ever buy a little shit when a lot of shit’s available!” Ben pops in frame, interrupting. “So we bought THREE of these things!” “Well, the fact is we bought an entire lot, which includes these three units, right here next to each other!” “Who knows what wonders we’ll find?” “No one till we open it. So, what do you say? Which one you wanna start with?” “Let’s start with Door Number One!” Ben says, pulling out a tagged key. As he unlocks an ancient, massive padlock that secures a chain to keep the metal “garage door” in place, his brother hogs the camera. “The fun of this style of ‘Blind Buying’ has spawned quite a few tv shows. Who knows what will be inside? Will it have value, or is it just old furniture and clothes? Is it King Tut’s tomb or Al Capone’s vault? If my brother can ever get the lock off, we’ll find out!” Smiling, Ben says, “This shit’s old!” “So’s your Momma!” Ben snorts, turning the key with great effort. “She’s your Momma, too,” he says, as the lock snaps open with a lethargic clack. “And you know she watches this show.” Ben pulls the chain out of the grating and the two of them squat down to open the sliding door. They couldn’t be less like each other, physically -- Glenn is built like a Snowman and Ben like a String Bean -- although you can see they’re related by face. And sense of humor. The hallway echoes with the sound of scraping, stubborn metal-on-metal force, as if the doorway didn’t fit correctly into its runners, as if it had been pounded out of shape. They get it up almost two feet before it won’t budge another inch. Ben, his skinny bod already used up, sighs loudly and pants. “Okay, maybe Tut’s tomb was a little easier! Want to try one of the others first?” Glenn is kneeling down, shining his flashlight into the darkness of the storage space. “No,” he says. “I can fit under this -- it doesn’t look like it’s jammed full of stuff -- lemme find the light.” “Go, Indy!” Ben mocks as Glenn slides (barely) under the stuck door. Ben gives a side-eye to the camera and whispers, “Indiana Jones was in better shape than my brother…” He harrumphs sarcastically, indicating his lean frame. “Usually, I’m the one squeezing into tight spaces, but my brother likes being the showman when the camera’s on. What’s going on in there?” he calls. “Hold on -- looking for a light. This is crazy!” “What?” Suddenly, the interior light comes on, flooding the space and leaking through the jammed metal door. “Holy crap! Get in here, Ben -- bring the camera!” (INTERIOR SHOT: Storage Unit One, about the size of a standard one-car garage, unpainted cinder-block walls with an overhead neon light. The space is full of gym equipment, not just stored willy-nilly, but set-up as if to be functional, as if someone worked out here. There’s a cable-crossover on the far end, before the mirrored wall. A squat rack on one side, a series of benches and dumbbells on the other. Dusty and cobwebbed, it hasn’t seen use in a while -- but it once did. Lots of use from its condition.) “Look at this!” Glenn says to the camera, smiling broadly. “This is someone’s gym!” Ben looks around. “Maybe some gym went out of business or something…” “No. This looks like someone used it. I mean, this stuff is set up, not stored.” He pulls a pair of 20-pound dumbbells from the rack and struggles to do some bicep curls. “Look at me,” Glenn laughs. “I’m Ah-nold!” He puts the dumbbells back on the rack with a clang that echoes through the space. His pear-shaped body couldn’t possibly look less like Schwarzenegger. Weird. “This is weird,” says Ben. “I know,” laughs Glenn. “Can You Believe We Bought That Shit?” Even Ben laughs at this. “Another mystery for the Buy-It Brothers!” he says back, smiling. “Hey, look back here! There’s a door to the next room -- we won’t have to try and open the front slider!” “Thank God,” Ben says, pulling the heavy wad of keys, chains, and rings from the pocket of his cargo shorts and dropping them on the flat bench. Behind and to the side of the cable crossover -- almost hidden to the eye -- there’s a standard gray industrial door that leads to the next unit. The knob has a keyhole, but as Glenn grabs it, the door breaks off its hinges and falls to the side, as if someone had forced their way through it and tried to put it back in place so no one would notice. “Fine construction,” Glenn jokes. “No wonder they’ve condemned this building.” “This is all very weird.” Glenn pulls the flashlight from out of his back pocket. “At least I know where the light switches are,” he says, entering the dark room. “Be careful,” Ben calls, shooting a nervous glance at the camera. He sees the light come on in the next room, but when he doesn’t hear anything more from his brother, he steps toward the door. “Glenn…?” His brother’s voice isn’t scared, exactly, but he certainly sounds concerned. “Ben,” he says, “bring the camera.” (INTERIOR SHOT: Interior of Unit Two. Ben is clumsy, so the camera is jerky as the stand is reset. This room is identical to the other in terms of construction (and lack of color), but it has a different function -- this is living quarters. At one end of the storage unit, along the wall is a simple cot with a nightstand, a lamp, and a small dresser -- a dull, circular floor rug breaks up the cement. On the other wall, a cheap recliner aimed at a crude, old-fashioned entertainment center -- a TV, a VCR and several dozen VHS tapes. Along the back end of the unit, the opposite end, a seatless toilet, a sink, and a showerhead -- there’s a centered floor drain beneath it.) Taking it all in, Ben says, “What the fuck?” Same tone from Glenn. “Can you believe we bought this shit?” “Glenn, what’s goin’ on? Do you think… someone LIVED here?” “Or was KEPT here.” There’s an uncomfortable silence, unusual between these two. To distract himself, Glenn goes to the entertainment center and picks up some of the VHS tapes. He snorts. “What?” asks Ben, turning the camera to catch Glenn. Glenn holds up the tapes to the camera. “It’s all gay porn,” he says. “And a few bodybuilding competitions.” Even Ben sighs and jokes, “Can you believe we bought that shit?” He chuckles. “Do you think any of this has any value at all?” Glenn shrugs, indicating the tapes. “They’re vintage,” he says. “And look,” he continues, turning the TV on, “TV still works!” The TV comes to life with gay porn, two muscular men in the depths of fucking. Crude and savage, the Buy-It Brothers both turn away. “Oh, Geez… turn it off, man!” But it won’t turn off -- Glenn hits the power button any number of times, but the TV keeps on keeping on. “It won’t turn off,” he says. “Looks like it’s gay porn to infinity!” Ben side-eyes the camera. “Unplug it,” he says, which Glenn acknowledges and pulls the plug from the wall -- the TV stops, mercifully. They’re spooked enough. Glenn holds up his hands like he’s won a race. “Ta-dah!” he sings. “Anything in the dresser?” he asks, nodding toward the piece. Ben seems afraid to look, but finally opens the top drawer, which he then immediately closes. “What?” Ben swallows dramatically. “Jockstraps and thongs,” he says. He opens the second drawer. “Underwear and posers,” he says, opening the third. “Spandex shorts and muscle shirts.” He grimly nods. “I am ready to cut our losses and not look in Unit Three.” “Oh, we’re so looking in Unit Three,” Glenn says, crossing to where the doorway would be. Instead, there’s literally a hole in the wall, as if someone had torn the cinderblocks away and made a doorway. Scraps of cement pieces and piles of broken cinderblocks still litter the floor. Someone had clearly meant to fix the damage -- there are a couple of loose bags of cement mix amid the rubble -- but clearly nothing had been done, just dust and destruction with a layer of time. “I mean, obviously, someone wanted in there very badly.” “Where the hell is the door?” asks Ben, moving the camera’s tripod to a new location. “What is going on around here?” “Well, it’s pretty full in here,” Glenn says from the doorway. “But I can slide down the wall and get the lights okay.” Again, after a couple of seconds, the lights come on, though this bulb isn’t quite as good, blinking and fizzing as Ben, carrying the camera, enters. (INTERIOR SHOT: Unit Three. A slightly smaller room than the other two -- maybe half the width -- filled with over a dozen wooden pallets loaded with beverage cases, wrapped tightly in heavy industrial plastic. Some are haphazardly stacked on top of others -- each pallet has six layers of product. They are dusty, resembling forgotten furniture after a hasty move or dinosaur carcasses after a meteor shower.) Ben looks into the camera. “The mystery deepens,” he says. Glenn pulls his knife from the Leatherman attached to his belt and cuts into the heavy plastic wrapping on one of the pallets. “Let’s see what they were hoarding,” he says, pulling out a plastic sports drink bottle, gray with red and gold lettering. “CYCLE ONE,” he reads, shrugging. “You ever heard of it?” “No.” Ben pulls out his phone instinctively to search it, but there’s no coverage inside. “Fucking cinderblocks,” he mumbles. Meanwhile, Glenn cracks open the plastic bottle and chugs it on down. “Glenn!” Ben hollers when he looks up. “What are you doing?” “What?” Glenn says, tossing the empty bottle away. “It’s just a sports drink! I didn’t see an expiration on it -- it was good!” He turns to the camera and adds, “Sadly, it hasn’t fermented.” “I can’t believe you just drank that!” Ben protests. “You don’t know anything about it!” “Oh, for the love of God, Ben! Give it up!” Ben shakes it off. “I’m sorry, bro,” he says. “This whole place has got me a little spooked, is all. This is very weird.” Glenn shrugs dramatically. “What? Some guy who used to own a gym loses it all and instead of being homeless and on the streets…” “...he chooses to live in a storage facility?” Ben finishes. “With his collection of porn, thongs, and sports drinks? No, that doesn’t sound weird at all.” Glenn snorts and begins counting the pallets. “Whatever,” he says. “Ready, math guy?” Ben opens his calculator app. “Ready!” he says. Glenn counts. “Each pallet has ten cases per layer and each is six layers high.” “Sixty cases!” Ben announces. “I didn’t even need the calculator for that!” Glenn laughs. “Twenty-four bottles per case means…?” “Fourteen-hundred forty bottles per pallet.” He counts quickly again. “Twenty pallets…?” “Means we own a shit-ton of this stuff.” Glenn smiles toward the camera. “I love math,” he says. “What are we gonna do with twenty-eight thousand, eight-hundred bottles of old sports drink?” “Twenty-eight thousand, seven ninety-nine,” Glenn chuckles, tossing his empty bottle dramatically over his shoulder, where it clunks emptilly around in the cinderblock space. “That’s gonna eat into our profit margins,” Ben says, shaking his head, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Ben, even if we sell it for a buck a bottle, we still make a shit-ton more than we spent. Plus the gym equipment…” “...and the vintage porn.” Glenn smiles. “And the vintage porn -- we’ll still come out ahead. That it happens to be weird gives us a story to tell, doesn’t it? That’s why we have this camera… and the show…” They both turn to the camera and smile. “Can You Believe We Bought This Shit?” Ben asks dryly. “Okay,” Glenn says, taking charge like he usually does, “we’ll need the Pallet Jack -- we didn’t bring that, did we? -- but we have room in the Hauler to fit all this stuff.” As he talks, he steps back into the middle unit-- the living area -- Ben follows dutifully, taking the camera along. “I doubt we’re gonna want to keep much of this stuff -- I guess the TV works tho, right? And who knows? Maybe there IS a market for vintage porn.” He laughs and walks into the first unit, the one with the gym equipment. “I don’t know how we’re gonna get this stuff outta here -- maybe the guys who buy it can haul it. I don’t know…” Suddenly, he jumps up and grabs the pull-up bar mounted on the top of the cable crossover. Ben is suddenly watching his middle-aged, rugby-thick, out-of-shape brother doing pull-ups -- exercising! “What are you doing?” Ben asks, already laughing. “Pull-ups!” Glenn says breathlessly as he struggles to do a third. He drops heavily onto his feet. “We own a gym now,” he says to his skinny-fat brother. “The Fortunato Brothers Fitness Center! Maybe it’s a sign we should get these sad-ass bods back in shape?” Ben laughs. “You feelin’ okay?” “I feel great!” Glenn says. “Seriously, I feel fucking GREAT! Ever since I had that…” He stops suddenly and looks away, toward the third unit. A devilish smile crosses his face and he exits with purpose back into the other rooms. “Glenn, what are you doing? GLENN!” Ben gives a look toward the camera and is about to go after his brother when Glenn reappears in the broken doorway, holding several bottles of CYCLE ONE. “This shit…” he starts to say. Ben immediately protests, holding his hands up. “Our profit margin!” Glenn tosses a bottle with an easy lob to his brother, but Ben -- never an athlete -- bobbles and drops it. The bottle rolls under the metal gate they’d opened into the hallway beyond. “There goes our profit margin,” Glenn jokes, opening another bottle. As he speaks, he gestures with it. “Why don’t you go grab that bottle? I should’ve known better than to toss it to you.” He slugs down half his new bottle in one gulp, easily. Ben’s tone is serious. “I think you should ease up on that stuff,” he says, making his way toward the metal gate. “You don’t know what’s in it.” “It’s a sports drink.” Glenn waves him off. “It’s just sugar water.” He attempts another set of pull-ups as Ben squats down to go under the door. He’s got a little over two-feet of clearance but he’s reluctant to press his chest to the floor, all that dust and dirt he’d been able to ignore before, when the mystery had captivated him. Now there’s less enthusiasm to follow the rules -- like the game OPERATION, where you shouldn’t touch the sides… Ben’s shoulder whaps the bottom of the metal grate as he rises in the hallway. There is a grinding, loud, metallic shriek and the grate slams solidly onto the cement floor. “Oh, shit,” Ben mumbles. He hears Glenn from inside, slightly muffled. “What happened?” “I must’ve jostled it with my shoulder,” Ben says to the door, speaking a little more loudly than usual, to be heard through the closed door. “That’s why I didn’t make the Limbo Team.” No laugh. Damn. “Okay, let’s heft it back up again!” Ben grabs the handles on his side -- and he can hear Glenn trying to pull the chain on his -- but the door doesn’t budge. “Fuck -- AGAIN!” They try -- even though Ben worries about his back, he throws himself into it -- and fails. The door stays closed. “Fuck,” Ben chants. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” “Well, let’s try one of the other doors,” Glenn suggests from inside. “You have the keys, right?” Ben reaches down to his pockets -- empty? Where…? Oh, shit! He’d taken the keys out of his pocket and put them on the bench -- inside the unit! “Oh, shit!” “What?” “They’re in there!” Ben shouted, slapping the metal door. “They’re in THERE! I took them out of my pocket when I was fumbling with all the camera equipment! They’re on the bench.” He doesn’t hear Glenn’s sighing exhale, but he’s certain that’s what’s happening -- his brother is collecting his wits -- it’s what he always does when he’s angry. “Okay,” Glenn says through the grate. “Is the crowbar in the truck?” “I don’t know,” Ben answers. “I’ll have to check. I don’t think so. I think we took it out when we were emptying from that last job.” “It’s okay,” Glenn says. “We’re gonna need the Pallet Jack anyway. Okay, you head to the Workshop and get the crowbar, the Pallet Jack, any kind of hack saw we might have if we gotta cut those chains…” “Glenn, the Workshop is almost a hundred miles away!” “Well, we don’t have much choice -- unless you’re strong enough to tear through these metal grates with your bare hands, we’re gonna need tools. And the tools are in the Workshop…” “Which is a hundred miles away!” Glenn laughs. “Well, I’m not going anywhere! So you might as well get to it… unless you don’t have the truck keys?” “They’re in the truck.” He can hear Glenn sigh. “You just leave keys everywhere…” Ben doesn’t laugh. “You’re hysterical,” he says. “Look, Glenn, I feel bad enough…” “It’s not a big deal,” his brother says through the metal grate. “It’s just a couple hours. I have plenty to do -- I have games on my phone and shit -- don’t worry. Hey, I can always work out and watch vintage porn, right?” That his brother, trapped because of Ben’s own foolishness, would work so hard to make jokes shows Ben how much Glenn cares. Ben can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I guess,” he says. “I’m sorry, Glenn.” “It’s just gonna be a couple hours -- and we’ll get a good story out of it. Don’t worry, Ben, it’s all good. Now go get the tools -- I’m done talking through a garage door. Frankly, I feel like working out.” “Don’t drink any more of that shit!” “Too late!” For some reason, as much as anything else, that lights a fire in Ben’s pants. He can’t shake his uneasy feeling about that stupid sports drink -- he’s sure he’s heard of it before. On the floor against the far wall sits the bottle he’d come out here for -- without much consideration, he picks it up off the floor and puts it in the side pocket of his cargo shorts (where the keys had been). Ben hurries down the stairs and exits the building -- this time smart enough to block the door with a cinderblock, so it won’t lock by accident behind him. The keys are in the truck -- thank God for small favors! -- but the crowbar is not. There’s not a helpful tool in the bed. (They’d taken the toolbox out to create room for all the loot they were gonna haul from this Buy-It score!) Just one stupid thing after the next -- and here they are now, Glenn locked in a unit with vintage porn! So it would be REALLY stupid if something happened to me now, Ben thinks, driving a little too old-lady like. But it’s better than getting pulled over, or having an accident, or any of the other myriad horror stories he imagines happening as he drives the nearly hundred miles to their Workshop while his brother is trapped. “I just got here!” he texts when he arrives at the Workshop, nearly two hours later -- the text isn’t delivered. He tries to shrug it off, shutting the door of the truck -- the one shrink-wrapped with their Buy-It Brothers logo -- and enters their warehouse (their “Workshop”) -- the one sporting that same logo over cartoon-versions of he and Glenn. (Ben thought they looked a little too much like Laurel and Hardy, but no one knew that reference anymore.) With haste, he gathers the things he’ll need, the crowbar, the hacksaw -- he has to locate the Pallet Jack. He’s wasting so much time on it, he considers leaving it behind. Fortunately, just as he’s thinking that, he trips over it. (It’s mostly hidden beneath a hastily discarded tarp.) It takes some little effort to lift it up into the bed of the truck -- lifting stuff is more his brother’s kind of thing -- but he finally does it, breathing heavily as he rolls the jack deeper into the bed near the cab and straps it in. He’s sweating a little -- and thirsty. Without realizing it, his hand touches the bottle still stashed in his pocket. The CYCLE ONE. He can’t resist. Though he knows his priority is getting back and rescuing his brother, Ben takes a moment to fire up his desktop and do some internet snooping, to satisfy his curiosity (or his paranoia). Cycle One -- there it is -- a sports drink that was all the rage twenty years ago. Internet rumors claim it was the real deal, adding insane amounts of masculine muscle and power, but there were side effects: dangerously increased libido, loss of sexual inhibition, loss of individuality. Crazy internet bullshit -- still, there are dozens of flexing testimonials, young men eager to show off their “transformations.” All of them looking a tiny bit… zealous, perhaps? Another article links Cycle One to a Justice Club Super-Villain, a hyper-muscled bodybuilder by the punny name of King Rex. The pic that accompanies this article shows an impossibly muscled man with a beard transforming a kneeling Superion, the Earth’s most powerful superhero, and turning him into Rex’s worshipful gay slave. The article claims the “secret ingredient” in Cycle One is King Rex’s magical ejaculate. A deeper dive: coincidently, upon the disappearance of this King Rex into the Multiverse, supplies of Cycle One became limited overnight -- and precious. Several would-be cults formed around the protection -- and distribution -- of this suddenly valuable resource. People went to great lengths to horde the stuff -- vaults, fallout shelters, armed-guards at storage units… Ben surfaces from his rabbit hole with the realization of what he and his brother have stumbled upon. In this instance, knowledge hasn’t seemed to give him any power at all -- other than to realize there’s danger, which he’s already suspected. Thanks, knowledge. Hurriedly, Ben gets back to the truck -- leaving the bottle of Cycle One on his desk -- realizing he’s wasted almost twenty minutes online, and heads the ninety-some-odd miles back to the storage units. He wants to floor it and speed the entire way, but he fears getting pulled over, or getting in an accident, or any of the other myriad nightmares that would end with his brother being forever trapped. “Almost there,” he texts at a red light -- the text isn’t delivered. Damn cinder-blocks -- they give little hope. He leaves the main road for the access road, the access road for the side road, the side road for the private drive, until finally, the abandoned ETERNAL STORAGE building comes into view, across the cracked and weed-filled parking lot. Apparently, this is all to be torn down to create an Amazon Warehouse. The Amazons replace the Eternals -- sounds like a bad superhero movie -- Ben can’t help but chuckle, despite the situation. A nerd at heart. He parks next to the door he’d left jammed open with the cinderblock and hurries back inside, grabbing the crowbar out of the truck bed on his way. He bounds up the stairs to the second floor -- as fast as his skinny, awkward body can “bound” anyway -- less like a gazelle and more like a clumsy giraffe with a few extra knees -- and lopes down the hall to their lot. It’s been just a little over five-and-a-half hours, and his brother wasn’t in immediate danger -- (he certainly wasn’t gonna go thirsty) -- still, Ben is worried. From halfway down the hall he can hear it. Right up next to the stuck door it’s impossible to miss: clanging weights, grunts and groans -- his brother is working out! “Glenn?” he calls, slapping the metal door. “Glenn, you OK?” “Ben?” he hears, then the thud of a barbell being dropped. The voice is closer to the door. “You’re back already? I still gotta do deadlifts.” “You’re hysterical,” Ben says, smiling with relief -- his brother isn’t dead. “Are you OK?” He can hear Glenn’s laughter. “WAY better than OK. Bro, this stuff is AMAZING, this CYCLE ONE shit! We’ve struck gold!” “Glenn…” “A buck a bottle? Fuck that. A THOUSAND bucks a bottle! For this…? Hell yeah, they’ll pay it.” “Glenn, I’ve been doing some research on it, the Cycle One, and…” “I don’t care what the Internet says right now, Bro! Let’s just get this fucking door open.” “Um… Okay, I have the crowbar!” “Great! Let’s see if you can get the bottom up a little bit.” Ben jams the crowbar beneath the door -- he’s expecting resistance, but the flat end of the bar simply slides under. Lifting the curled end, Ben slides a piece of broken cinder block beneath to act as a fulcrum. When he attempts to raise the door, the metal dents, lifting a small section up about an inch. When Ben removes the crowbar, he sees his brother stick his fat fingers through the opening from the other side. “I’m almost free!” Glenn says and laughs. Then, he says, “Hey!” like he’s had an idea. “Make another one of those dents about two feet to your left. I got an idea!” Ben shrugs -- “Okay…” -- and slides to his left. Again, the crowbar easily goes under the metal lip. Ben uses the same piece of cinder block and creates another hand-sized dent in the base of the sliding door -- the screech of the metal is almost uncomfortable. Glenn is saying, “Perfect… perfect,” from the other side of the door. “Okay, let’s give it a try!” “What?” “Let’s try to lift it! Grab the handle out there!” “Glenn, we can’t lift this…” “I told you -- I’m fresh! I haven’t done deadlifts, yet.” Bending over rather than squatting, Ben grabs the handle in the center of the roll-up metal door. He’s indulging his brother -- there’s no way they’re moving this door -- so he doesn’t give it his all. So he’s surprised when, on his brother’s count of “Three!” the door actually jerks up a foot or so -- Ben nearly loses his balance. “That’s better,” says Ben’s brother. “I can get a better grip on it now. Hold on a sec…” Ben can hear the sounds of drinking from inside and the clink clunk of an empty plastic bottle as it’s casually tossed away. He burps. “Okay,” he says, again gripping the base of the metal -- Ben can see his sneakers beneath the door. “Let’s do this. Grab on!” Ben grabs the door handle a little more seriously this time, squatting opposite his brother. “One. Two… THREE!” They both throw energy into the movement, but the door doesn’t budge. “No!” Glenn yells. “AGAIN!” A little -- it moves a little -- but nothing that’s gonna rescue anybody anytime soon. “Fuck this… FUCK THIS!” Glenn yells, then Ben can hear him mumble. “Just need a little more. Just a little more…” Again, the sound of drinking, the empty clunk of a thrown bottle. “Fuck this. Let’s get this fucking thing!” They both heave. It moves… slightly! “MORE!” And they both strain. Then, unexpectedly and suddenly enough to surprise Ben, the door doesn’t slide up so much as it gives in to the pressure and folds, shrieking a metallic screech like a tin can collapsing. The force throws Ben off balance and he trips over the crowbar, slamming into the cinderblock wall on the opposite side of the hall. So hard, it knocks the wind from him -- and from the way his head slams back into the brick, he knows he’s about to lose consciousness, too. The image he’s left with: his brother. His brother! Not the teddy-bear, snowman-shaped sibling he’s known for forty years -- not unless his brother is the Hulk and Ben has never figured it out. Standing there in the doorway, arms over his head pushing the door up further, Glenn is massive -- his muscles are impossible! Thick and heavy, but not ripped and “cut” like a bodybuilder in competition. Glenn’s lines are curvaceous, not tight, his flabby tummy has become a “roid-gut”, big, curved lines, round muscle bellies, bloated and swollen -- he wears electric blue posing trunks and a spandex half-shirt that doesn’t reach the bottom of his bulbous pecs, exposing his thick nipples. His biceps are easily as big as his head, maybe bigger while flexed like this -- Glenn’s breathless in his joy, in his win, in his show of power. Look at the size of him! Ben can see his brother is fighting a hard-on in the tiny, shiny posers he barely wears as he flexes his triumph at ripping the door from its track -- he’s so masculine, but what he wears is so… flowery. Feminine. He flexes a most-muscular, popping his traps and his pecs -- just like the Hulk used to on the old TV show when they were kids, fantasizing about being so big. And then -- helplessly -- Ben finally passes out, lost in confusion and darkness. Only certain that he’s too late. ********************************************************************************* Chock! That’s the sound he wakes to, the heavy stone stacking of brick. Chock! Or cinderblocks… Ben opens his eyes tentatively, taking a moment to process where he is. Although he’s leaning against the wall, there are pallets of CYCLE ONE all around him -- he must be in Unit Three! Why…? Chock! What the fuck is that? As he stirs, rising to investigate, he discovers there’s a chain wrapped several times around his ankle -- padlocked on! -- connecting him to the pallet. He screams. “Glenn! GLENN!” “Oh, you’re awake,” he hears from somewhere across the unit, out of sight. “And here I was trying to be quiet…” Chock! “What the fuck is going on?” Glenn laughs. “Good tv.” “What? Glenn, I’m chained to this pallet.” “Yeah, I know -- calm down. Freakin’ out is not gonna help you, bro. It’ll be easier if you think of it as an Escape Room -- the intent IS for you to get out, after all.” Chock! “I don’t understand.” There’s a heavy sigh. “Can you stand up, at least?” his brother asks. “So we can talk face to face.” Ben stands, the chain uncomfortably tight around his ankle, his headache pounding. The pallets are just under six feet high (stacked with cases of Cycle One -- perhaps the last cases of Cycle One), and Ben can see over the top. Not that that lessens the horror. His brother -- his massively muscled brother -- Ben still can’t adjust to the change -- is resealing the hole in the cinderblock wall between units two and three, using the broken pieces from before. He spreads a sloppy layer of cement with his bare hands and then drops a cinderblock into it. Chock! He’s rebuilt the wall only a little higher than his chest, so Ben can still see Glenn’s pecs, traps and shoulders -- and of course, his arms. (He’s so big -- it’s just not possible.) “What are you doing?” Ben asks, barely keeping the fear from his voice. “Okay, again -- calm down,” Glenn said patronizingly, spreading cement. “Freaking out will just waste your time. It’s easy to get out of here -- I’m even gonna tell you how.” Chock! “Glenn, what the fuck…?” Glenn reaches through the opening with his muscular arm -- he’s holding a flashlight and a set of keys (he’s getting cement on them from his fingers). He drops them on the floor, well on the other side of the room. “These are the keys to your chains,” he says, pulling his arm back and peeking through the gap. “And my torch, which is a literary allusion -- forget it. Anyway, I figure after drinking a dozen bottles or so, you’ll be big enough to drag that pallet over here and get these keys.” “WHAT?!?” “I told ya, it’s good tv.” Chock! “See, Ben,” Glenn says as he continues re-building the wall, “I knew you wouldn’t drink it voluntarily. No doubt you ran home and researched it and found all the reasons NOT to drink it -- that’s so like you -- but I say when you come across a magic muscle potion, you drink it! That’s the difference between you and me.” Chock! “Would you please stop doing that?” Glenn doesn’t stop -- he continues. “But then I thought, what if he’s his normal smart-ass self? What if he just tears through the heavy plastic and empties the pallet? That’d make it pretty easy to drag across the room, right? So I decided to create another little obstacle for you. Even if you cheat on the pallet (and personally, I don’t think you’re strong enough to tear through the industrial plastic), you still gotta get through this wall. But I figure, after you drink a case, you’ll do it with ease. Look what I did to that fuckin’ roll-up door!” He laughs. “It’s so fucking awesome, Bro!” “Glenn… please…” Chock! “I considered simply force-feeding you, but that’s kind of an overused trope, isn’t it? This way makes more compelling drama. Did you see the camera over by the sliding door?” Ben looks to his left and sees the camera on its tripod atop a pallet of CYCLE ONE, aimed at him, filming his dilemma. Good TV... “I filmed my own transformation,” Glenn adds. “Well, not so solid at the beginning, but I have a cum-shot at the end that’ll blow you out of the water! And my Scanty Fashion Show will get us a ton of views!” “What?” “Trust me, Ben -- this stuff enhances EVERYTHING!” “Glenn, please don’t do this.” “You’ll thank me, bro. That I know -- you just need the right motivation. String bean like you… it’s what you’ve always dreamed of. Big muscles. Feels good. No work. Right up your alley.” Chock! The wall is almost complete -- just a small gap at the top. Enough to maybe get a grip on… Ben pulls on the chain -- he’s securely in place. This is all a little too melodramatic for him. Would his brother actually abandon him here and let him die? What the fuck? “For the love of God, Glenn!” he shouts as the last cinderblock wedges into place. “Stop!” “Get drinking,” he hears his brother say, his voice muffled. “You can be out in an hour! I’ll be over here working out and modeling posers -- haha!” “Glenn! GLENN!” But Glenn doesn’t answer. All Ben hears is the sounds of gay porn -- vintage gay porn -- the moaning and the raw need permeating the cement wall. Beyond that, the clang of weights in the first unit -- Glenn is at it again. Ben screams out of frustration more than anything else, knowing no one can hear him -- they’re in the middle of nowhere. He’s trapped -- TRAPPED! And completely at the mercy of his brother’s dark sense of 19th century drama. He sits against the wall in a fetal position, crying. Why does this have to be such a difficult choice? At the heart, Glenn is right -- he hates being skinny -- he hates being String Bean. Muscle Zombies searching for hidden stashes of Cycle One… Transformations. He still seems like the same Glenn. (Except maybe the chaining his brother around the ankle part…) Just a fuck-ton bigger -- more masculine. Sexier. He holds the bottle in his hand -- firm, hard plastic -- unemotional, cold. What if you held a magic muscle-growth potion in your hands? Would you drink it? Knowing what it would do? (He hears his brother’s obsessive training.) Knowing what it would change? (He hears the vintage porn.) He looks at the camera and flies it the bird. Fuck you, good TV. Finally, long minutes later, the sound of him cracking the bottle echoes around Unit Three.

Merry Christmas everybody! I've a story fresh off the presses that's Christmas themed. I tried to throw in a bit of growth for everyone. Plenty of weight gain, muscle growth, and even some macro in there with a bit of romantic fluff. I hope you all have a safe and happy holiday season and never stop growing. PS- The last chapter is loosely based off of a comic that the great artists Greggrth did called "Just Take One". Merry ChristMASS Chapter 1: The New Santa It started on Christmas Eve. They were all sleeping soundly in their beds when a mysterious figure arrived to deliver each of them a letter. As each man opened the letter and read it, they were blinded by a light that illuminated from the letter. Each of the men regained their sight in a large room with a cookie sitting in front of them. Looking from side to side, they each saw each other, and man clad in red from head to toe. “Hello gentlemen and welcome to the North Pole,” said the man. “What happened? A second ago I was reading a letter about some new job,” asked one of the men. “¿Qué?” said another. “Oops! I thought I forgot something.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s better. My name is David, and I will be your host for the duration of your stay here,” said David. “The North Pole? How did we get here?” exclaimed one of the men. “Well you see, each of you received a letter from myself asking about a job,” said David. “Yeah. It said something about becoming the next Santa Claus. I thought it was one of my friends playing a prank on me,” said one of the men as he bit into the cookie in front of him. “Not at all sir. I can assure you that this is all real. Each of you have been hand selected by me to be a candidate for the title of the new Santa Claus,” said David “Wait seriously? Santa Claus is real? I had always just kept up the charade for the children at the shelter, but I could never have imagined actually being asked to be the new Santa Claus,” said one of the men with glee. “Why did you select us specifically?” asked another. “Well let’s go down the line,” said David. He snapped his fingers and a scroll appeared in his hands. “First, there is Rafael from Brazil.” The Latino man perked at the hearing of his name. He was wearing a white button up night shirt and some pajama pants. At 5’8, he had a somewhat muscular build with a bit of a beer belly. “Born into poverty at a very early age, he struggled growing up to support himself and his siblings. With no parents to take care of them, he built a community of others that had been abandoned like them. He helped them. Fed them. Made sure their needs were met before taking care of his own. He established a shelter for anyone who were in need regardless of who they were.” “Then we have Peter.” The white man stood up when his name was said. He was about 6 feet tall and wore a pair of matching pajama pants and a shirt. He had a relatively slim build to him with very little muscle to be seen. “An all-American boy from the states. He was your typical kindhearted gentleman. What set him apart from the rest of America was his selflessness. Despite being born into a fortune, he dedicated his life to giving it all up to those who had nothing. Donating his money to charity and living the life of someone in poverty so that others would prosper.” “Next we have Bruno.” The middle eastern man rose to attention. He was wearing nothing but an old t-shirt and some boxers. At about 5’10, he had a muscular build to him. He looked like he could even compete in some body building contests. “When his country of Iraq was invaded, he was merely a boy and did not know what to do. Unlike many who fled, he saw the scourge of the war and wanted to help and make a difference. He studied to become a combat medic. Helping those who had fallen in battle regardless of who their allegiance was with.” “Lastly, we have Vincent.” The Asian man gave a small wave to the other three. At 5’5, he was definitely the shortest of the contestants. Wearing a Christmas themed onesie, he had an athletic build to him. Similar to one you’d see on a swimmer or a gymnast. “A man with a fairly normal upbringing in Japan, Vincent dedicated himself to volunteer work when he became an adult. Working for numerous non-profit organizations that deal with feeding those who are hungry and providing shelter for those in need. Rejecting what his parents expected of him as an adult and going into working for his community.” David snapped his fingers again and the scroll vanished. “You each have displayed the true meaning of Christmas throughout your lives. That it is better to give than it is to receive. Through your selfless actions, each of you have impacted many lives drastically and you are all true Saints.” The four of them looked at each other with surprised looks on all of their faces. “I understand that this is a lot to take in all at once, but do not worry, we have all of the time in the world. Literally. Father Time stops time for everyone else outside of the North Pole.” “What will becoming Santa Claus entail for us? Will we move here? What will our job be?” asked Peter. “You will be working here almost full time. Helping with toy manufacturing, the infamous naughty and nice list selections, and, of course, delivering all of the presents on Christmas. But don’t worry, you will be trained to do all of these things, but we just need to make sure to have an aptitude for it first,” said David. “How will we ever learn how to do all that?” asked Vincent. “Magic good sir! That’s how anything can get done around here. Everything we do in the North Pole is powered by magic that you will be taught how to use by one of the best magic users in existence. Myself.” “Way to be humble boss,” said a man as he walked in through two big red doors. “Joseph! You made it! Everyone, this is Joseph. He is the head of toy production here at the North Pole. You will be working very closely with him.” “Hello everyone. David can I talk to you for a second?” asked Joseph. “Sure. Here everyone,” David snapped his fingers, “have some cookies.” And the two of them left the room. “David, what are you doing? Where’s Nick?” asked Joseph. “Oh he’s been removed from service with us,” replied David as he tried to walk back in. “What? Drop the tour guide act. Who are these guys and where is Nick?” “Alright fine. He dumped me last night. I sent him to coal duty. These are his replacements.” “Get Nick out of there! We need him tonight!” “No! He can rot in the coal mines for all I care. One of them will be the new Santa.” “These are your rebound guys. Not the next Santa.” “We’d eventually need a replacement. And they are all suited for the job.” “What even are their qualifications?” “They are all charitable. Nice guys.” “David! “Okay! They’re all hot gay men who are selfless. It was a pretty quick magical search.” “I can’t believe you brought mortals here! What were you thinking?” “I was thinking that my husband of almost 2 centuries just dumped me and you weren’t picking up your phone when I was needing a hookup.” “So you just pop these random guys in here so that you can have a one night stand?” “Not exactly. We would need a replacement eventually. I can’t run this factory and deliver the presents every Christmas. One is fine, but more than that, I‘ll work myself to death. I need a partner.” “Alright fine. I’ll play this little game of yours.” “Hey, you can get something out of this too.” “What could I possibly get out of this?” “I know that Henry dumped you last decade and you’ve been lonely ever since. You get first runner up.” “Ugh you’re impossible.” Joseph started walking away. “You won’t be saying that after they go through the cookie test.” Joseph stopped in his tracks. “You’re doing that test.” David nodded his head. “Okay. I’ll go along with it as long as you play fair this time with that test.” “Deal.” The two shook hands and walked back towards the contestants. All unaware of what they had gotten themselves into. Chapter 2: Santa’s Workshop Back in the room, the four are getting settled in. Eating cookies and talking about each other’s lives. Their hobbies, their families, what they do to be so charitable. Their conversations were interrupted as their hosts walked back into the room. “Okay. If you all will follow us, we’ll get you to the workshop for one of our first tasks,” said David as he motioned them to follow him. They left the building that they were currently in and through the snow. “So we’re really in the North Pole sir?” asked Bruno. “Who’s this sir? I told you to call me David. Saint David if you want to get technical, but David is fine. And yes, you are. I transported you all from your respective homes through magic,” said David. “Is that how you deliver presents every Christmas Eve?” asked Peter. “In a way. Remember when I mentioned Father Time? Every Christmas Eve, he has agreed to stop time for us in order for all of the presents to be delivered. Old Saint Nick did use the reindeer from time to time, but ever since we made our deal with Father Time and I learned a little teleportation magic, it’s been easier this way.” “Couldn’t you just teleport all of the presents at once?” asked Vincent. “We tried that once. It was a disaster. Wrong presents were scattered across the globe,” said David “Yeah, that was a bad year. Everyone was generally mean that following year and it plunged the world into World War 1. And then there was Nick. He nearly blew up,” added Joseph. “Blew up? Santa Claus nearly blew up?” asked Rafael with concern. “He was fine. Nothing I couldn’t handle. But ever since then, we’ve just tasked Santa with being teleported to each home in order to ensure that each gift gets delivered properly,” said David. They finally made their way to a set of two large wooden doors. “Gentlemen, welcome to Santa’s Workshop.” David opened the doors, and they were met with a bright light as they entered the room. The men rushed to a railing in front of them and saw blinking lights, lifts, and conveyor belts moving toys all over the large room. Men in tight uniforms tinkering with toys below them. “Where are the elves?” asked Vincent. “Oh we got new elves a few decades ago. Far different from what you’ve seen in the media. As Christmas gained more popularity, the demand for bigger, better, and generally more presents became too much for the poor elves. We created a new type of elf in order to take their place. These new elves have the original strand of elf DNA with some dwarf thrown in for strength along with some human DNA for some height to them.” The men looked at the many muscular men that were clad in tight pants and tank tops. “And they’re pretty easy on the eyes.” “Getting back on track, this is where all of the toys are created,” said Joseph. “All of the elves are assigned a specific toy they need to make. They have supervisors that know everything about a group of toys and then each level of the chain of command is broader until you reach Santa and I. We each should be knowledgeable on all toys or any gift that someone might ask for from a teddy bear, to a PS5, to a dildo.” “I should get one of those for my husband,” said Peter. “Oh you have a husband Peter?” asked David. “Yeah. Michael and I have been together for 3 years now.” “Oh, how sweet. Want another cookie?” David snapped his fingers and a bigger cookie appeared. “Sure. These are delicious.” Peter grabbed the cookie and started eating. “Not a problem. Now to test you all a little bit.” David snapped his fingers and four doors appeared in front of them. “You will need to build a toy. Nothing too extravagant. Just a basic child’s toy,” said David. “Excuse me sir. I have no knowledge on how to build toys,” said Rafael. “This is a very basic toy that even some monkeys have been able to build. Joseph, take it away,” said David “Sure. You all will be creating a toy train. You will have 10 minutes to complete this and all of the tools you need are right in your room,” said Joseph. “Enter your rooms and we will begin,” said David. The men walked into their respective rooms. Each room was about 10x10 feet with an 8-foot-tall ceiling. In it, there was a table with various tools sitting on it. Each man took their seat behind the table and a screen appeared where the door just was. “3, 2, 1, Go!” flashed the screen. The men started to work on the trains. Bruno breezed through this task as performing surgery multiple times on people has prepared him to work with his hands on this task. Vincent also picked up on the train and the mechanics of it all. Rafael took his time on figuring out how each piece fit together but was making good progress. Peter however was having an increasingly more difficult time with putting the toy together. Hearing soft sounds from below him as he continued to put everything together. So focused in on the task in front of him, he did not notice his ball gut growing below him. He was only brought back to reality when his pajamas he had been wearing started to ride up on him. He looked down and clutched his gurgling gut as the sounds got louder and louder. He felt it pulse outward with each release. His shirt riding up on his torso as his belly fought for more space. “Excuse me David, I think I have a problem he-“ *GLOOOOOOOOORRPPPP* Peter clutched his belly as it ran into the table with that burst. The only response that was given to Peter was a blinking number on the screen saying, “7 minutes”, seemingly unaware of Peter’s grievance. Peter looked back down at his train and tried to continue as his gut only grew bigger. “What did you do to him?” asked Joseph, seeing the display going on in Peter’s room through the one-sided screen they put on the wall. “Oh nothing. Just wanted a little show before he leaves. I also realized I should have put another stipulation in the magical search. Hot, gay, selfless, and SINGLE. I’m no homewrecker. Once he loses this challenge, he’ll go back to his husband,” said David “Okay, but why’d you have to do this to him?” asked Joseph as he motioned to the ever-expanding gut on Peter that has swelled to the size of a beach ball. “Oh that’s for him and his husband. I saw that the two of them are into the inflation fetish so it’s an “I’m sorry for almost stealing your husband” gift,” said David. Snapping his fingers again, a new phrase appeared in front of the contestants, “5 Minutes”. Peter saw the screen’s warning and was getting worried. His belly had only been growing since the first warning. Letting out more gurgles as his gut started to push the table away from him. He could feel his fingers begin to chub up as he tried to work. Becoming too sausage like to work with the tiny parts. His shirt and pants began to rip as he gained more and more weight. “What is happening to me?” *BBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTT* came his stomach as it surged forward knocking over the table. “I know I had a few of those cookies,” *GLOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRPPPPPPP* His stomach hit the floor with that one. “But Rafael had way more!” *SWEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL* His stomach reaching the other end of the room and forcing Peter to fall out of his chair. David snapped his fingers to reveal a new message that read “2 Minutes”. Peter no longer cared about the competition. He was consumed by his growth. His body had reached immense proportions. His clothes had become just pieces of fabric thanks to his ever-growing form. Now standing up, Peter’s stomach rested flat on the floor and was getting closer and closer to the ceiling. “Fuck it!” *SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLL* “If I’m gonna be big,” *BBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTT* “I’m gonna be fucking big!” *GLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPP* Peter had fully embraced his belly as he filled the small room. His gut pressing into the ceiling and beginning to press into the walls. With his back presses up against the wall behind him, he could feel the pressure of each wall pushing against his belly. “It’s getting a little cramped in here!” *SWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLL* “Please stop!” *BBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT* “I’m gonna burst!” *GLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP* He braced himself when the pressure became too immense when suddenly he heard a bell. “Times up!” David snapped his fingers and doors appeared again on the rooms. The other three men walked out of their room with their finished products. David and Joseph walked by each contestant judging their work. “Excellent job Bruno, love your attention to detail,” said David. “Good work Vincent. A solid train,” said Joseph. “Rafael, your train leaves a bit to be desired. But with some practice, I’m sure you’ll be a master in no time,” said David. “Hey, where’s Peter?” asked Bruno. The five men turned to look at the unopened door. David walked up to the door and turned the knob. The door immediately swung open to reveal a wall of flesh pouring out of the doorway. “Peter, how are you doing in there?” asked David. Peter felt a bit of the pressure be relieved from his stomach when the door opened, and some of him got out. “Uh well, I’ve been better,” came a muffled voice from behind the fat. “Do you think you can get out of there?” asked David. “I don’t think so. It’s a pretty tight fit in here,” again came the voice from the doorway. “Alright then. I’m gonna get you unstuck then. You all should probably stand back,” said David as the four men took some steps back. David snapped his fingers and there was a loud *GGGGGGGGGGGGGGLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP*. The wall tore down like it was paper by the belly that surged out of the tiny room. The gut even broke down the walls of the other rooms as it fought for more space. “Couldn’t you have just broken the wall down yourself?” asked Joseph. “Of course I could’ve, but this way was more fun. James! Francis! Would you come get Peter out?” Two 6’6, well-muscled elves appeared on each side of Peter. They grabbed at the fat and pulled. With loud pop, Peter flopped out of the room. “Wait, that’s Peter? All of that is Peter?” said a perplexed Rafael. The once slim man had morphed into a large orb of lard that was well over 15 feet tall. The two men rolled the ball of a man over so that the others could see the rest of his body. “I’m sorry to say, but Peter, for not completing your train, you have been eliminated from the competition. Any parting words?” asked David “Not at all! This is incredible! It’s an honor just to be nominated!” yelled out Peter. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Now Francis and James will escort you out.” The two men got on one side of Peter and started to roll the overinflated man out. The other contestants started with a mixture of shock and lust as Peter left them. “Now gentlemen, shall we continue on with our tour?” Chapter 3: Naughty & Nice David and Joseph led the men out of the workshop as Peter was rolled out the way they came. Knocking down doors like he’s a bowling ball with him being far too large to fit in. The three looked back at the trail of destruction left in the orb’s path until David snapped his fingers and everything was back to normal. “What happened to him?” asked Rafael. “He simply did not have the right stuff to become the next Santa Claus,” replied David. “So you were gonna make him explode?!?” exclaimed Vincent. “Oh not at all. That was a little parting gift from me. Most people have fantasies they’d love to live out, but the confines of reality are harsh for some and they can’t. That all changes when you have magic,” said David as he led the group to a new room. “So you can make it so that we can live out our wildest dreams?” asked Bruno. “Indeed I can. The only difference with Peter is that this will be one fantasy, if you are to be Santa Claus, then this will be a regular occurrence if you’d like and all of your fantasies can come true,” said David. “Coming from someone who has been on the other side of David’s magic, I can confirm that the fantasies he can weave are spectacular. And everything can be reversed if you’d like. Peter will deflate after a while, but he’ll be able to grow himself at will to that size when he wishes,” said Joseph “Yes. I have done favors for my friends around the North Pole and I’ve had great reviews from all. You’d be surprised with the fantasies that are bouncing around in a person’s mind,” said David. The three men stood stunned. All thinking about what they’d all do if they were given the opportunity. “We’re here,” said David as he opened up two large wooden doors to reveal an office like space. “This is where you will be assigning everyone a ranking of naughty or nice.” “Oh so this is real? I always thought that everyone got what they wanted?” asked Vincent. “That is somewhat true. Unlike what is assumed of the nice and naughty list, and about most things, this is a spectrum. Not everyone is 100% nice or 100% naughty. We go off of how good or bad someone is in total and rank them on a scale from 0, the naughtiest, to 100, the nicest. Most people fall into the range of 40-60 from year to year with some people’s rank being changed from year to year.” “Who are the people that are on the very bottom of the list? The 0 rankings?” asked Bruno. “Those would be the worst of all people. The rapists, the pedophiles, those who commit genocide. Some notable names on the bottom would be Hitler, Christopher Columbus, and Donald Trump,” said Joseph as David pulled out a long list. “And the good end?” asked Vincent. “A much better list in my opinion. Those are the people who are notoriously good and selfless. Those who help the needy and save those in need. You three and Peter are all notable people on the lists along with Oprah Winfrey, Abraham Lincoln, and many Saints,” said David as he put the list away. He snapped his fingers and three doors appeared leading into separate rooms again. “Your task will be assigning people a rank based on the information we show you. This will not impact how they’ve actually been ranked, but a test to see how each of you morally see people.” “Will we each get the same person to rank?” asked Rafael. “Not at all. This is actually my favorite part. You will each be getting people that are significant to you. It could be your parents, a sibling, a best friend, that is for the machine to decide. Now each of you head into your rooms and we will begin the test.” The three men turned to face their doors and walked in. They each were greeted by a circular object on the floor. Each of them approached the object when it suddenly lit up a hologram. Rafael was met with his brother Fernando. Vincent was met with his mother Diane. And Bruno saw his best friend Assad. “What are you gonna do now? Some of them might have significant others,” said Joseph. “Well, first things first, I’m looking up these guys again. Rafael and Vincent are both single so that’s good. Bruno’s situation is…unique,” said David. “Unique how?” “Let’s just say this is one fantasy that needs to be granted.” David snapped his fingers and appeared in the room Bruno was in. He walked up behind Bruno admiring the stunning hologram of his best friend. The man was dressed in military gear from his head to toe. You could tell that beneath his clothes, there was a significant amount of muscle. “He seems like a great guy. Tell me about him,” said David as he paused the video recording and enhanced the image onto Assad. “He’s the best. Courageous and strong while also sweet and caring. He’s my best friend in the entire world. He always tries to protect anyone that he can in combat. Even if that means that I’ll have to stitch him up later. But I can always fix him up like brand new.” Bruno reminisced their time together as David continued to work on the hologram machine. “Yes, but I know you’d like to be more than just friends,” said David with a snap. Suddenly the hologram of Assad was a real person. He was still stuck in position, but he was in the room with them. “What? No. That’s absurd. I’m not gay. That’s an act punishable by death,” snapped back Bruno. “Bruno, magic doesn’t lie. I did some research on you before I brought you here. It revealed that you’ve had unrequited love for him since basic training but chose to shove it down out of fear.” Bruno sank into himself with the words that left David’s mouth. Everything he was saying was true. “But luckily for you, I did some research on Assad as well. He had the same story with you. You are each madly in love with each other but will not admit it to one another.” “I know.” This response surprised David. “I’ve always known. We’ve had an unspoken connection for as long as we’ve been friends. But what can I do about it? It’s illegal in Iraq.” “Well I had an idea about that.” David took the hologram’s hand and brought him over to Bruno. “You said he was a protector, right? Well now he will protect you against anyone who might try to separate the two of you. He cannot attack anyone, but he will be your shield from anyone who might hurt you. He will be your shield.” Bruno turned to face his friend. He only saw a small change at first. His already snug clothes were clinging to his muscles. His gaze began to look up more as the eyes grew towards the ceiling. Slowly, but surely, his head rose above the other two men in the room. Passing 7-feet tall quickly and looking to pass 8 feet shortly. The already well-muscled man was gaining pounds of muscle by the second. His pecs poking bulging out of the shirt. And with a “POP”, Bruno heard the buttons on the uniform begin to lose their battle with the growing chest. One by one, button after button started to rip off. Exposing more of Assad’s torso. His shoulders had broadened immensely and brought a lot of growth to his chest. Each one looked as if they were the size of dictionaries and just as thick. Bruno and David’s attention was brought away from his pec’s by a loud “RRRRRRRIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPP”. Right along the long sleeves, his bicep had just ripped through the sleeve. The man’s arm had grown to the size of a cantaloupe and continued to pack on size, soon reaching the size of a basketball. “He’s incredible,” said Bruno as he walked up to the growing man. Another loud “RRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPP” was heard. This time from behind the Adonis. Walking around him, Bruno got a view of his incredible backside that had begun to break out of the painted on pants. The ass had been growing out of sight and David had taken extra care with preparing the bubble butt. Not only was the booty muscular, it had enough fat in it so that it rounded out to give him a perfect round ass. Which only seemed to be pumping bigger. His hips had widened for his backside to grow more. Each cheek was easily the size of a pumpkins and still pumping up bigger. Assad’s pants finally lost their battle and fell to the floor when out sprung a foot-long cock from his underwear with grapefruit sized balls to match. Bruno walked back to the front to see the python his friend had. Reaching out to touch it, Bruno felt the still soft cock stir as he made contact with it. It quickly was both growing and hardening. Quickly filling Bruno’s hand, the cock continued to lengthen. Feeling the dick throb as it thickened so much that Bruno could no longer wrap his whole hand around it. By the time the cock was fully hard, it was easily 2 feet long, if not longer. As the growth seemed to come to a halt, Bruno stepped back from Assad. His height leveling out at about 9 feet tall, he dwarfed both Bruno and David. His once tight uniform was now reduced to shreds of fabric on the ground. “David, I can’t thank you enough for this,” said Bruno as he examined the overgrown man. “Don’t thank me quite yet,” said David as he snapped his fingers. Immediately, Assad’s pecs jumped out at them. His torso exploded with more size. Broadening even more, his pecs went from dictionary big to king sized pillow big and twice as thick. Each nipple now the size of a silver dollar and pointing straight down. But as Bruno examined the nipples, he saw a little droplet forming on it. “Milk?” said Bruno as he walked up to the newly developed pec shelf. He put a finger up to the nipple and let little white drops fall onto him. He puts the finger in his mouth and his eyes light up. “Oh my God! This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever drank,” said Bruno as he cupped his hands under the tit and began slurping up more and more. Bruno’s own body began to grow as he continued to drink. No longer using his hand, he put his mouth to the nipple and the clear liquid flowed into his mouth. His own body being pumped up like a water balloon. Starting with a small gut in front of him and spreading all over his body. Seemingly unaware of the changes to his body, Bruno continued to drink from Assad’s pecs. Bruno was only brought back to reality when he heard a loud “RRRIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPP”. This time from his own clothes. His own transformation had happened much faster than Assad’s. He was 7 feet tall already with muscles to match. He had ripped out of his shirt and boxers quickly and he continued to inflate with size. His muscles reaching the same proportions as Assad’s but with one major difference. Unlike Assad’s rock hard 12-pack, Bruno had a bulging milk gut. He poked it and could feel all of the milk inside him. He moved his mouth to the other pec as the other one seemed to have deflated from all of his sucking. By the time Bruno had finished his drink from the other pec, he was just a few inches shorter than Assad. He looked down at David. “What can I do to ever repay you?” “Nothing. It’s what I do. Remember what happened to Peter, how I granted him his fantasy? Well this one is yours. Some fantasies are purely sexual, and others are ones of romance,” David snapped his fingers one last time. Bruno heard a snapping sound and looked to see Assad’s cock sprang forward. It must’ve been 4 feet long now. He also looked to Assad’s glutes now to see they had grown bigger than tires. “With just a hint of sexual.” At that moment, Assad started to move from his statue like trance. He looked all around him. He was no longer in his bedroom. “Woah! What’s happening? Where am I?” said the confused giant. “Assad! Everything’s alright!” yelled back Bruno. “Bruno? What are you doing here? Why do my nipples feel so sore?” “Don’t worry about that, but the only thing I want to tell you now is that I love you, you big lug!” Bruno latched onto his big friend with a big bear hug. “Bruno.” Assad returned Bruno’s embrace, “I love you too, but we can’t be together. You know that.” “But we can now. David, tell him,” shouted Bruno. “I’ll fill him in,” said David as he snapped his fingers. Instantly, Assad’s eyes filled with joy. He immediately kissed Bruno. “I’m so happy. I’ll finally be able to show how much I really care about you Bruno.” The giant’s eye started to tear up. “Come on you two. You’ll have plenty of time to do that, but for now I have to get you back,” said David. Assad and Bruno walked out of the room holding hands. Both giants took a note from Peter’s book and broke down the door. Joseph, Vincent, and Rafael were waiting outside for them. They were all perplexed when two 9-foot-tall naked men came out of the room. “What happened in there?” asked Joseph. “I’ll explain everything later. Francis! James! Will you escort these two gentlemen somewhere where they can speak in private?” The same two men walked in from before. They led Bruno and Assad away. “Oh and when they’re done, send them home. And then there were two. So shall we continue on to our final test?” Chapter 4: The Gift That Keeps on Giving David led the remaining men down a long hallway. All of the others were utterly confused about what they just saw in front of them. Each of them wondering what possible fantasy Bruno must’ve had in order for him to emerge a giant with another unknown giant on his arm. They all approached a large metallic door. “Excuse me David. You never mentioned what our final task would be,” said Vincent. David opened the doors to the outside where they began walking in the snow again. “Your final task will determine how well you can perform the real duty of Santa Claus. It might come as a bit of a surprise to you. What most people don’t understand is the amount of cookies you’ll need to eat as Santa. This will test how much of this sugary sweet treat you can stomach.” “Bring it. I’ve loved all the cookies you’ve served so far,” said Rafael. “Yes, but that has only been a few cookies. Santa must consume millions of cookies in one night. We’ve managed to solve most of the problems with magic, however this has not been one of them,” said David. “Can’t you just throw the cookies away?” asked Vincent. “We’ve tried. It’s never gone well. The first year we tried it, the following year was World War II. Then we tried it again to test if it was a fluke or not and then the Vietnam War happened. It’s just bad luck not to,” said Joseph. “What if you were to get rid of them with magic. with magic?” asked Rafael. “My magic is very good at creating things, hence why I am one of the biggest givers of all time. It is not engineered to destroy,” said David. “And this is why they all must be eaten. Remember the story I told you about a while ago? How Santa nearly blew up? That’s what happens when someone eats millions of cookies in an instant.” The men walked up to a cottage and entered. There they found a plate of fresh cookies waiting for them. “This will be a test of stamina, not speed. But I wanted to make things a bit more interesting. Once the plate in front of you has been eaten, many more plates of cookies will spawn all over the North Pole. But there will be a plate with special properties to it once you start eating,” said David. “What kind of properties?” asked Rafael. “You will have to figure that out for yourself,” said David. “How will a winner be crowned?” asked Vincent. “David and I will be keeping track of how many cookies are eaten by the two of you. The contest will be over when neither of you can stomach another cookie. After that, David and I will crown a winner based on the number of cookies you each ate.” said Joseph. “You may begin eating when ready,” said David and with a snap, him and Joseph were gone. The two men sat down at the table in front of them facing each other. Rafael was the first one to reach for a cookie. “Well cheers I guess,” said Rafael. “Cheers,” responded Vincent as he also grabbed a cookie. The two bit into the cookies and let out an “Mmm” in unison. “These are so good!” said Rafael. He shoved the rest of the cookie into his mouth and grabbed at the pile again for more. “Are you sure you don’t want more?” asked Rafael in between bites. “David said this contest was about stamina, not speed,” said Vincent. “Suit yourself URP” Rafael burped as he rubbed his belly. As Vincent finished his first cookie, his eyes were brought to Rafael when he heard a low rumble coming from the man’s stomach. Suddenly, Vincent saw Rafael’s body began to inflate. The sleeves around his arms seemed to tighten, the buttons on his shirt tightened from his large pecs, his shirt riding up and revealing a large gut that pressed into the table. “What the hell?!?” yelled Vincent as he saw the man gain about 50 pounds in a few seconds. “Huh?” Rafael looked down at his body. He saw nothing but his bloated tits when he looked down. “Woah,” said Rafael in awe. He lifted his arm up and flexed it. He watched the strains of fabric be pushed to their limit as the ball of muscle grew. “Dude…what did you do? You got-” “Big.” Rafael continued to admire his body. Putting his hand under his newly grown pecs and feeling the weight of them. “I’m huge!” Rafael stopped groping himself and locked eyes with the table. “But how? Is David doing some kind of magic on you?” Rafael reached his hand out to the table and grabbed a handful of cookies and shoved them into his mouth. “Bigger,” was all that left his lips when another loud groan was heard from the man’s stomach. Rafael grew much quicker this time. His head slowly rose up as he smiled feeling the growth spread. His gut grew out onto the table. Inflating quickly like a yoga ball. A loud “POP” rang through the air as his top button flew across the room. One by one, each button revealed more and more the man’s glorious chest. Each pec reaching the size of suitcases and continued to gain pounds. Another loud sound was heard by the men as Rafael’s fat ass ripped apart his pajamas. His ass and thunder thighs shredding the fabric like a piece of paper. With his pants gone, Rafael’s cock was freed, and it flopped down onto the floor under the man’s rounded belly. The beast lengthening under the table toward Vincent as it was now well over 6 feet long and thicker than . Seeing that the giant was growing closer to him, Vincent stood up from his seat and backed away from him. “Rafael! You need to stop growing!” As his transformation continued, Vincent heard a loud crash as the giant’s ass hit the ground. The chair that had been supporting him had snapped like a twig under his growing weight. “So big,” said Rafael as his transformation came to a halt. He was sitting on the ground and was a head taller than Vincent. His own head just inches away from the ceiling of the cottage they were in. “I need more!” said Rafael as he reached for the tray of cookies. “More?! Rafael you can’t be serious? You can’t even fit through the door!” screamed Vincent as he tried to grab the cookies before Rafael could, but it was too late. “Vincent, I’ve always wanted to be bigger.” Rafael grabbed the cookies and threw them all back into his open mouth. “Besides, David can fix whatever we do with magic.” With a gulp, the cookies hit the behemoths belly. “Yes! More!” Rafael began to grow again. Every inch of him packing on 50 pounds per second. His stomach charging forward toward Vincent like a locomotive as his head hit the ceiling. Under his impressive stomach, Rafael’s cock also lurched forward. Pressing Vincent into the wall behind him. “Rafael! Please stop and let me get out!” Vincent felt the now 9-foot-long cock continue to pulse with growth as the weight pushed against him. “Too late little guy,” said Rafael as his head started cracking the ceiling. Vincent looked up for a moment as the cock pinned him to the wall only to see a ballooning belly be pushed into his face. From the outside of the house, the walls seemed to bulge out in every direction. The first sight of Rafael’s body was his head poking out of the ceiling of the cottage. Next his massive belly and cock took their toll on the wall and they spilled out onto the snow outside. Then there was Rafael’s ass that had been steadily growing behind him. It pushed through the walls both behind it and on its side. Lastly to burst free were his arms. On each side of the cottage, his arms broke down the walls and brought themselves into a double bicep flex. Finally the entire cottage was brought down as his pecs broke the remaining parts of the roof that hadn’t been destroyed by his head and shoulders bursting through. Holding tightly to the head of Rafael’s cock, Vincent fell out onto the snow as the growing dick grew. He shimmied his way out from under the behemoth and stood up to see Rafael. He was a true giant. Sitting down, he was easily two stories tall, if not three, and looked like he weighed two tons. A lot of that weight was in his fat gut. The orb of a belly was far taller than Vincent was. It was like he had swallowed a car. “Haha, now we’re talking,” laughed Rafael as he groped his newly grown body. “I’m so massive. But I want to be bigger.” Vincent heard the giant’s deep voice and remembered the other cookies that David had put out across the North Pole. In an instant, Rafael’s big body got up from the ground and began sprinting and looking down for more plates of cookies. “I need MORE!” “I’ve gotta find another plate of cookies before he gets any bigger.” Vincent started running toward the Naughty and Nice building he was just in. Rushing in and looking around for a platter of cookies. Seeing nothing, he ran out another door and sitting just outside the door on a pedestal was an even bigger plate of cookies. “Yes! I beat him here!” said Vincent as he began shoveling cookie after cookie into his mouth. “Hey Vincent!” came a shout from the distant. Vincent turned his head as he continued chewing on cookies. “Oh no! He found me!” Vincent grabbed the plate of cookies and ran back into the building. Thunderous steps shook everything around Vincent as Rafael descended his huge body onto the building. Vincent saw his massive arm reach in through the door, but he was too far away for him to reach. Vincent still felt worried that Rafael could do what he did to that cottage and tear down this building to get to the cookies. “Come on now Vincent. Christmas is about giving. So give me some of those cookies!” yelled Rafael as he looked inside the building. “Why aren’t they working?” cried Vincent as he polished the last cookie off the plate. Right after the words left his mouth, he heard his stomach let out a low growl. “Oh.” Vincent’s belly quickly inflated inside his Christmas onesie. Rips forming all over his body as pounds were added on every second. “This,” Vincent’s pecs ripped through the neck hole. “Feels,” His ass burst apart the seat of his pants. “So,” His cock ripping out the front of his pants with a nice pair of balls to match. “Incredible!” His head skyrocketing toward the ceiling. “Vincent, what’s going on in there?” asked Rafael from outside the door. He couldn’t see clearly into the room, but suddenly his nose was met with a wall of flesh. “Bigger.” Rafael backed away from the door and saw cracks forming in the walls. “Bigger!” Vincent’s cock lurched out the doorway and hit Rafael. Landing him on his ass. “BIGGER!” Vincent’s entire body broke out from the building, leaving it in ruins. Rafael looked up at the new giant that Vincent had become. From the bottom up, Vincent’s cock was bigger than a house with balls bigger than cars. His hairless gut resembled the size of blimp and above it sat two massive slabs of meat known as pecs. Each one was bigger than 18-wheelers and twice as thick. Vincent’s head was now higher than any building around them in the North Pole. “He’s massive!” Rafael got up out of the snow and reveled in Vincent’s size. “Haha. I see why you were so eager to get your hands on more of those cookies. The feeling you get when you grow is indescribable,” said Vincent as he brought one of his biceps up and flexed. The ball of muscle growing bigger than Vincent’s own head. “I’ve gotta find more,” said Rafael under his breath. He looked around and saw the workshop they had just been in for the train exercise. Scrambling to get there, he ripped off the roof to see another tray of cookies, this time on a golden plate. “Hey! You get back here!” yelled Vincent as he ran towards Rafael. Rafael looked back and saw Vincent lunging toward him. He turned his back to Vincent and swallowed all of the cookies in one gulp. He threw the plate into the snow as he felt a new transformation coming on. “Gotcha!” said Vincent as he grabbed onto Rafael’s smaller shoulders. “Not for long,” said Rafael. He straightened his back as his body sored into the sky. Rafael’s ass was the only thing that Vincent could see growing. The already fat ass quickly bulged back into Vincent’s cock. Vincent instantly felt his cock harden as Rafael’s ass plumped up bigger and bigger. He couldn’t resist and shoved his cock head into Rafael’s ass. “Fuck” yelled Rafael as Vincent penetrated him. His own cock getting hard as he felt his ass grow further back into the cock. “I’m sorry man. I’ve been eying your ass ever since we got here and the way it was growing, I had to fuck it,” said Vincent as he started to thrust more of his cock into Rafael’s welcoming hole. “You’re good. I have to admit that I did think you were cute when we appeared in the North Pole.” “And now?” “Now? You’re fucking hot!” Rafael’s transformation seemed to subside as the two of them got started full on fucking. Rafael had stopped at just a bit bigger than Vincent, but he didn’t mind. Vincent’s 20-foot-long cock was big enough to satisfy the 60-foot-tall man. Vincent picked up the pace as he thrusted harder and harder into Rafael. The indent of his cock being seen bulging out of Rafael’s stomach. In the midst of their hot sex session, Vincent looked down and saw the plate of cookies that Rafael had tossed to the side from his previous growth spurt. It was now full! Vincent smirked as he leaned over, grabbed the plate of cookies, poured them into his free hand, and fed them to Rafael as he moaned. “Gobble these up for me.” Rafael didn’t need to be told twice. He swallowed the cookies with ease and smiled as he heard a familiar gurgle from his stomach. Rafael again shot up in height. “Bigger!” shouted Rafael. His body bulged out in all directions. His gut plowed forward destroying the toy factory below as his ass bubbled out behind him. Vincent was met with Rafael’s ass growing tighter and tighter on his cock. Vincent’s thrusting became animalistic as he grabbed Rafael’s fat ass cheeks in his hands. Massaging and squeezing them, Vincent couldn’t hold the flood gates back any longer. “Fuuuuuuuuuck!” cried Vincent as his balls seized up and cum filled Rafael’s already enormous belly. Vincent’s torrent of jizz seemed endless as Rafael continued to grow both from the cookies and the slow filling of his guts. Rafael felt Vincent’s jets start to lighten up as his growth tapered off. “That’s all you got pretty boy?” challenged Rafael. Vincent himself felt his balls beginning to empty as the cum shots began to slow down. He looked down at his hand and saw the plate. It was full of cookies again. “It refills itself!” A devilish grin sprouted on Vincent’s face. He threw his hand back into his mouth, swallowing the plate and all. “Be ready for the fucking of a century big guy!” Vincent heard a gurgle from his stomach and resumed ramming his cock into Rafael. Rafael felt Vincent’s cock begin thrusting into him again, with more passion than ever. Each thrust felt like Vincent was going deeper and deeper every time. “Now you’re talking!” He felt Vincent’s cum shots regain their previous strength. Rafael’s belly now growing much faster as cum flooded his system. Everything took a turn when Rafael saw the imprint of Vincent’s dick in his already massive stomach. Each thrust pushing out further and further as he continued to be filled up like a cum balloon. “What are you gonna do now? Vincent just ate the magic plate and he’s growing out of control,” said Joseph. David and Joseph were watching the entire display go down from a couch. Each of them naked and jerking each other’s cocks “Oh don’t you worry about that. In a little bit, Vincent’s cum should be meeting the cookies that Rafael ate,” said David “Why does that matter?” asked Rafael. “It’s milk. There will always be the combo of milk and cookies, not just cookies. When Vincent’s “milk” soaks the cookies, they reactivate themselves. So as long as Vincent keeps cumming, Rafael will grow with him,” replied David as he jerked his cock. “Now watch. I think things are about to get good.” Vincent had begun growing and hadn't stopped. Merely muttering “More” and “Bigger” as his body expands across the North Pole. The pair feel the ice cracking below them as their weight becomes too much even for the ice to handle them. Rafael meanwhile is becoming more and more ball like while Vincent’s jizz seems unending. “Vincent! You’ve gotta pull out! I feel like I’m gonna explode!” yelled Rafael as his limbs disappeared into his growing belly. Vincent in such a faze of lust could barely register that Rafael was talking. It was only when the ice below them broke when Vincent came back to reality. “Huh? Oh yeah. Sorry little guy.” Vincent pulled his growing cock out from Rafael’s ass and spun the orbs around so that he could see his face. “I got a little carried away. Guess that can happen when you’re the biggest being in existence” Vincent’s cock seemed to stop shooting jets as the cold water below him cooled him off. His body continued to grow away from the Rafael ball. His body crushing mountains all over the North Pole without him even knowing. Vincent picked up Rafael as he shrank below him. Becoming lighter and lighter in his hands. “How do you feel?” asked Vincent as he put Rafael in one of his palms. “Like I could explode. I don’t feel so- UUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP” Rafael let out the biggest burp anyone had ever heard. It could be felt at all corners of the globe, but then it started. He was growing and he was growing fast. He quickly outgrew the giant’s hand and he landed in the Northern Atlantic Ocean. Sending tidal waves out from his body. Rafael’s body regaining its shape as his limbs reappear and quickly approaching Vincent’s size. “Who were you calling little guy, little guy?” said Rafael as his size surpassed Vincent’s. Each of their bodies effortlessly crushing the Northern Hemisphere. Unaware of their own size, the two resumed their fucking. Both growing in spurts as they outgrew the whole Earth. “Ouch!” cried Vincent as something struck the back of his head. He looked back and saw that he had bonked his head on the moon. Grabbing the satellite in his hand and watching it shrink in his hands as the two men watched the Earth fade away. One by one, every planet passed by the two planet sized men. “How much bigger are we gonna get?” asked Rafael as Vincent continued to cum inside him. “I don’t know, but I don’t care! Keep it going! I want to be bigger than the whole galaxy!” yelled Vincent as another spurt came over him. Rafael simply smiled as he accepted his new reality of being pumped full of cum just for his body to break it down and make him grow bigger. It’s gonna be a happy life. For more updates, story ideas, or general MG stuff, Follow my twitter: https://twitter.com/Musclesaber

Happy Holidays from ABSMAN420! Based on Aardvark's LIFE STORE series, here's a classic absman story I found on the shelf and dusted off for you for Christmas! Enjoy a family-themed holiday muscle growth story! “Dad?!? I’m HOME!” He emerged from the upstairs bedroom, wearing only a pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a black baseball cap with the gold Iowa Hawkeyes logo on the front. Barely in his forties, he was densely muscled with the kind of powerful neck that betrayed all wrestlers. Every inch the coach, every inch the man who’d devoted his life to a sport, he’d wrestled since sixth grade, made varsity in ninth, high school national champion soon thereafter, recruited by Iowa, collegiate nationals champion his junior and senior years, now head coach at the junior college that prepped talent for UI, and first in line for the assistant’s position at the big school. He looked down on me from the top of the balcony and in his gravelly voice said, “Oh, I see Loser U is finally on Christmas break. Wait, what do you liberals call it? WINTER break, right?” He chuckled hoarsely at his own joke, running a hand over his bare, muscular torso. Even though I promised myself I wouldn’t react to his bait – the whole bus ride halfway across the country, I’d promised myself over and over – immediately I was defensive. “Dad… not everybody celebrates Christmas.” “Oh, Jesus, Brian! It was a joke – a freakin’ joke!” He descended the stairs as he bitched, his big muscles bouncing as he plodded down. “That’s the problem with you east coast intellectuals, you’re too freakin’ good for everything! Sometimes I wish your little Liberal U HAD a wrestling team – it’d be fun to come in there and kick their ass!” At the base of the stairs, we faced each other – at five-nine, we were the same height and structure, but he easily had me by forty pounds of muscle. He just seemed taller than me by the way he carried himself, by his confidence and posture, inflated by his ego. We didn’t hug. He only hugged his wrestlers – and then only when they won – never his son. No, he held his hand out for me to shake. And naturally, he seemed disappointed by the firmness of my grip. “So c’mon in and see the place,” he said, leading the way into the house. I followed, eye-level with his massive traps. This little off-campus, post-divorce house of his was a testament to his life as a single man and wrestler. A shrine, almost. Trophies and medals and photographs everywhere, posters and playbills from various events and contests, equipment and gear stashed here and there, a mishmash of obsession – maybe Mom had been right. The whole place was a disaster. Torn apart, laundry discarded, dirty dishes in stacks, this was clearly not the work of one man. He obviously had his wrestlers over often – the gigantic sectional sofa looked well-worn and comfortable beneath its wrinkled throw, and there was no belittling the entertainment center and the nearly wall-sized plasma TV. What college-aged guy wouldn’t like that? One of the coffee tables had been awkwardly cleared and a small, fake Christmas tree blinked merrily away, despite being decorated with a couple of dirty socks and someone’s jockstrap covering the face of the angel on top. Underneath was a single wrapped present, about the size of a shirt box. “That’s for you,” Dad said, handing it to me. “Well, really, it’s for BOTH of us, but, uh… I think you’ll get more out of it… initially. Open it.” “Isn’t it a little early for…?” “What?” he said impatiently – he wasn’t used to being questioned, some things never change. “It’s Christmas Eve, the sun’s almost down. What the fuck? Let’s start your homecoming right.” I’d never seen that much sentiment out of my father, so I sat awkwardly on the sofa arm and opened his gift, tearing through the paper and opening the box. “What is this…?” I asked under my breath as I looked inside. It was the strangest thing – he’d given me a singlet, an old Iowa singlet, black with gold piping and the word “IOWA” spelled across one leg, the Hawkeye logo emblazoned on the center front, where it would be directly over the heart when worn. It wasn’t even a NEW singlet. Beat up and flaking, stretched at the seams, as if the guy who’d worn it had been way too big for it – it was certainly too big for me, scarecrow that I am. Also a jockstrap in the same condition. Well-worn, stretched elastic, there was no mistaking that this jock had been worn by someone with monstrous genitalia, the cotton pouch was so distended. It may have been laundered clean, but it was still someone’s used jockstrap. He’d given me someone’s used jockstrap for Christmas. Was this his idea of a joke? He wasn’t laughing – rather, he had an anticipatory smile on his face. “Okay, now before you say something that pisses me off,” he said, sitting on the coffee table before me, pushing some dishes out of the way so he could, “let me explain it.” I made a fist and comfortably fit it in the pouch of the jock. “Absolutely,” I said. “I’d love to hear your explanation for THIS.” “Okay,” he said, nodding slightly. “But first, go put that stuff on.” “What?” “I bought it for you, Brian. Put it on.” He said that with a “coach” attitude, a man who wasn’t used to being questioned. “But…” He held up his hand for me to stop. “But nothing. Put it on. It’ll be like your Christmas present to me. Your old man wants to see you in a Hawkeyes uniform just once before he dies, okay? Indulge me?” “You’re not gonna die, are you?” “Just put the fucking thing on!” And so, in the filthy bathroom just off the kitchen, I shucked my clothes and put on the outfit Dad had given me for Christmas. The jockstrap didn’t even come close to fitting – or at least, that’s what I suspected. I’d only ever worn a jockstrap one time before that, and it’d given me a rash. Just a little too big in the waist, so that it fell and settled on my hip bones, and to make the pouch fit I’d need a balled-up pair of socks, or a grapefruit. The singlet was just as bad. Though its elasticity was better, it was still clearly two sizes too large. With my boney bod, I might as well have been a wire hanger for the way it hung on me from the shoulders. I looked ridiculous. Comical. Embarrassing. How could my Dad and I differ that much? When I went back to the living room, the smile on his face was the largest I’d ever seen on him – especially directed at me. A shark spying his evening meal. “This thing is huge on me,” I said, embarrassed by his scrutiny, humiliated by his gaze. “Yeah,” he said, like it was an unimportant detail. He reached down and adjusted his package beneath his sweats. “Is this one of your old ones?” I asked. “No,” he said quietly. “Mine would probably fit you, though you still wouldn’t fill it out as well.” He winked to indicate he was teasing – I let it go. “No, that there must’ve belonged to one of the big boys – maybe Gunter, or Johnny No-Neck.” “Well, where did you get it? Why are you giving it to me?” “First things first,” he said, standing. There was no hiding his dick as it pushed out against the loose cotton sweats he wore. Was seeing me in this singlet giving my Dad a hard-on? Ignoring it, and my unmistakable reaction to it, he reached in his pocket, pushing his big half-log to the side to retrieve a small plastic pouch. He tossed it to me. Naturally, I fumbled it instead of catching it smoothly. “Take those,” he said, crossing his hands before his package, lightly holding himself and tickling his dick with a finger. “Take those, then we’ll talk. I’ll explain everything.” It was a small, plastic pouch about the size of a business card, two pills inside. Stapled to it, a typed paper label reading, “WRESTLING MATT, 20, 215lb class, Coach’s Favorite.” “What is this?” “Take ‘em,” Dad said – I think he WAS playing with himself. “You need some water or something?” He picked a half-full bottle from the table and held it out to me. “But, what…?” He spoke sharply, inflating his ribcage and bristling his muscle. “Brian,” he said, “just do what I say. Don’t make me MAKE you take them.” And so I dry-swallowed them – but they must’ve been gel-coated, because they went down easy -- one tasted slightly metallic. “Thank you,” he said in a lighter tone. “Now sit down and I’ll tell you what this is all about.” When I plopped myself back on the arm of the sofa, my hands crossed before my crotch, he continued, hurrying through the exposition. “I was in the city not long ago on a tourney, staying at a hotel in this weird little neighborhood on the east side. I was coming back after practice, walking down this street with all these little shops and shit and I pass by this vintage clothing store. There’s a singlet in the window – catches my eye – an old-school Iowa lo-cut singlet, like we wore in the eighties, when I was there. “Anyway, I go inside, and the Man who owns the store, a little dumpy fag with this kind of know-it-all attitude sees me checkin’ out the singlet and the first thing out of his mouth – not ‘hello’, not ‘how are you?’, not ‘welcome to my store’ – no, he says, ‘Your son’s a disappointment to you. You wish he’d found the passion for wrestling that you have.’ “And what was I gonna do, Brian? It’s true. And it caught me off-guard. So, instead of questioning how he knew it, or what business of his it was, I nodded and said, ‘Yeah…’ “Because, it IS a disappointment to me, Brian. It breaks my heart that you don’t like wrestling – since before you were born, it was my dream to raise a little wrestler and be your coach.” It was so weird to hear my Dad talking like this – it was almost too much. I was feeling a little light-headed, so I slid down onto the seat of the sofa and leaned back against the soft material, my hands still covering my crotch. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I said, near tears. “I wish I could’ve been the son you wanted.” Dad smiled and barked a laugh. “That’s what HE said,” he said, “the Man at the shop. He said it was possible for me to have the son I’d always wanted. He said I could BUY that – I didn’t have to wish it, I could buy it – and he had just the thing!” “What?” I asked – I WAS feeling dizzy, clouded. I was having trouble keeping up with the narrative. I felt like I had just taken cold medicine or something. “So we’re in the back of his shop where the cash register and stuff is and we go to this filing cabinet. He tells me that this place is called THE LIFE STORE – the clothing thing is just a front – and through some unexplainable combination of alchemy and nano-technology or something, he’s able to craft complete new lives for people. He sells new lives! “Okay, NOW I think he’s crazy and I’m just indulging him. I really just want to buy the singlet and get the hell out of there, right? And he pulls out this thick file marked ‘ATHLETES,’ and it’s full of biographies and profiles of all these different jocks and all these different sports. He’s humming as he sorts through them. There’s only a few wrestlers – what a shock, right? – when he pulls one out and says, ‘This is it!’” It was still hard to follow what my Dad was talking about, but I realized that I wasn’t sick, wasn’t dizzy – no, just the opposite. I was starting to feel a buzz, like the coming wave that rides you up to drug-induced ecstasy. I was feeling kind of good. I was even starting to get a hard-on. I could feel it growing beneath the loose jockstrap. Instead of being embarrassed by it, however, I briefly thought, “Well, so does DAD…” before I dismissed it. Fuck it, let it get hard – it felt good. Besides, Dad wasn’t trying to hide his. “It was a helluva profile,” Dad continued, watching me curiously. “And I loved how the guy’s name was a pun – Wrestling Matt.” He chuckled. “Oh, Brian, you’re gonna love being him.” “What?” I asked, almost fully hard. “What do you mean?” “I’m turning you into him, into the son I’ve always wanted. I bought the profile from the Life Store and I’m turning you into Wrestling Matt, a twenty year old, two-hundred fifteen pound, cocky, nationally-ranked super-jock whose only desire is to please his coach and be like his dad, obsessed with wrestling and training hard at the gym. He loves it, he loves Iowa, he loves his teammates, he loves his jock life, and he owes it all to his Dad, his coach, and he loves to show his gratitude.” He touched his dick again and dreamily added, “It’s gonna be fuckin’ awesome to have him around instead of you....” “But… how…?” Dad shrugged, his big traps flexing and falling. “I don’t know. The Man tried to explain it to me but it didn’t make any sense. Who fuckin’ cares HOW it works? All that matters is that it does.” He looked me up and down quickly, taking his measure, then said, “And it’s obvious that’s something’s happening to you. Stand up.” I obeyed him so quickly that it surprised me. I didn’t even pause to consider any other options. He commanded and I obeyed, just like that – and it felt good to please my coach… I mean, my Dad. “You’re already bigger,” he said. “How do you feel, Matt?” Weakly, I said, “It’s Brian…” A stern look crossed his face – he didn’t like being contradicted. (How could you be Coach’s Favorite if you questioned an order, Brian?) Dad got up in my face and growled. “It’s whatever I say it is… Matt. Answer the question.” Again, without even waiting for him to finish the order, I obeyed it – and that gave me such pleasure. “I feel kind of weird,” I said, tingling, “but good. I can feel my body getting… I don’t know, THICKER almost. Inside and out. Stronger.” And before I could stop myself, I said, “But it’s nothing compared to how good it feels when I obey an order from you.” There was triumph in his smirk, even though he hadn’t won, yet. It kind of pissed me off that he thought I’d be so easy to defeat – I was starting to feel kind of aggressive, kind of angry. Masculine. I was rock hard now, and even the jockstrap wasn’t able to contain me. Turn me into some kind of super-jock, will he? Fuck, when I’m two-hundred fifteen pounds I’ll show him. I orgasmed then, facing off with my Dad. I grunted and moaned as I shot, breaking eye-contact with him – a big, wet stain immediately spreading on the singlet, but still I didn’t stop. I wasn’t even embarrassed by it – no, I fuckin’ LOVED it! It felt so GOOD! “Yeah,” Dad growled. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about…” “Fuck!” I screamed as the orgasm subsided, a few vain left-over spurts feebly making their way out of my still-hard cock. I felt so vibrant – so STRONG. “Where’s… a fuckin’… MIRROR?” I said, my voice gaining a rough edge it had never had before. That was certainly the first time I’d used the “F”-word in front of my coach… I mean, my Dad. He seemed to be taking it okay, though. He had a huge smile on his face as he led me to the full-length mirror at the end of the hallway. A light shone done from directly above where we were standing, making for kind of dramatic lighting as I saw what had begun happening to me. Mirrors had never been my friends – they always showed my flaws, my weaknesses. I would avoid my reflection as much as I could. But standing here with my Dad, I looked in the mirror and saw a whole different me. And since my dad was reflected accurately, then I must have been, too. I didn’t see the skinny, weak, loser I had always been. No, I saw a developing athlete instead, with a strong muscular base that seemed to be growing before my eyes. Damn, I looked good in this singlet, tight as it was becoming – like it was MADE for me. Made for my body. Made to show off my muscle, my power – my very generous cock. I never thought I could be so hot. So incredible. Maybe I wouldn’t mind being this Wrestling Matt after all… “Flex,” Coach said, looking at my reflection rather than me. I instantly obeyed, throwing up a double-bis, and my erection instantly returned. Look how fucking big I was getting! I went from pose to pose, Coach showing me the ones I didn’t really know – most muscular, side chest – my musculature improving and growing the more I flexed. Look at my traps, my neck – years of neck bridges showed as I flexed. “Let’s see the abs,” Coach said, putting his hands behind his own head and flexing his – no wonder he stressed core-training as much as he did. His abs were incredible, dense, thick and separated by deep, oxen-plowed grooves. I quickly pulled the straps of my singlet down, eager to see what mine looked like next to his. I wasn’t disappointed. All the hours we’d spent training together – the nearly obsessive nature of it – had clearly paid off. I remember it used to drive Mom fuckin’ crazy. No wonder she and Dad split up – she couldn’t understand men who had our priorities. My abs were actually better than Dad’s… I mean, than my Coach’s. He was thicker through the middle than me – a little middle-aged spread, I’d joke with him when I really wanted to piss him off – my waist was almost two inches smaller than the old man and my tiny little hips gave me a “V” much more sever than his. “Hard not to be envious, isn’t it?” I asked in my gravelly new voice as we fought for mirror space. Coach barked out a “Fuck you” and cocked his fist like he was gonna punch me. “Go ahead, old man,” I said, smirking, running a hand over my eight-pack. “Give it your best shot.” As soon as his fist came in contact with my muscle, I orgasmed again, this time so powerful, it brought me to my knees. My big cock just kept pumping out the jizz, soaking the material and dripping down my leg. I fuckin’ LOVED it! When I could control myself again, there on my knees in the hallway, I looked over at Coach, standing there with a triumphant smirk on his face – God damn, I loved him! After all, I owed him fucking EVERYTHING – he made me into the man I was today. He’d trained me all my life to be the best I could be – to be like HIM. His big hard dick fought the confines of his loose sweats, and as the Coach’s Favorite, I knew what my job was. Without waiting for his order or his guidance, I reached over, untied the waistband, and pulled out his thick, nine-incher. Damn, I may’ve had better abs, but I had nothing on Coach’s hot, hot cock. “You gonna stare at it,” he asked, “or are you gonna do something with it?” “Just give me the order, Coach.” That smirk – that cocky fuckin’ smirk – the one I’d inherited. Yeah, fucker, just watch what your favorite can do. Feel my talented mouth. “Suck my cock, Matt,” he said, slapping it against my face. The rush of pleasure I felt when I took it in my mouth caused me to cum again. Seeing our reflections in the mirror, this hulking college wrestler blowing his Coach, their muscle flexing, their faces locked in ecstasy, made it even hotter. I knew just what to do, just how to tickle, just when to deep-throat, and when he orgasmed, filling my mouth with his salty-sweet jism, choking me with its volume, I knew with certainty that was why I’d been created. And I’d never be satisfied. “Isn’t this better than being some pansy-ass performing arts major at Liberal U, Brian?” he asked as he leaned against the wall and I licked him clean. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked as I ran my tongue down the length of his impressive shaft. “My name is Matt. Don’t you remember, or did it take all the blood from your brain to fill this big dick of yours? I go to Iowa, like my dad before me. I’m on a wrestling scholarship that you helped me earn, and for which....” I kissed the head of his cock and slipped it back into his sweats. “…I will be forever grateful.” “Excellent,” he said, patting me on the head. “Let’s go hit the mats, then, Matt. I want to see what you learned at Iowa this semester.” It was our best Christmas ever – we could train, eat, and fuck without Mom breathing down our necks. Coach and I trudged through the snow to the Athletic Building on campus, opened up the wrestling room, turned up the heat, and grappled the night away. We started in our Iowa singlets, which was hot enough, then we stripped down to jocks and finally rolled naked together, sweaty. muscular and masculine. He was a tough bitch and I still couldn’t take him – but he took me, often and ferociously. Quite literally, too. He took me right there on the wrestling mats, fucking me the way a man uses his favorite sex toy, the same way he had for years. I loved it so much. As team captain, I always had my pick of the other wrestler’s tight little asses, but rarely had to give up my own – that’s how often I lost. But man, Coach could always do me, and do me right. He could fuck me hard on the soft mats and I always wanted more. I may’ve even shouted “I love you!” as he came inside me – I don’t remember, I was so lost in ecstasy. So lost in gratitude. I was Wrestling Matt, the Coach’s Favorite, a two-hundred fifteen pound state champion and fuck machine. And I loved it. Afterwards, I licked the mats clean and joined my Coach in the shower. END

The day was there, Andrew’s 18th birthday was finally there. Andrew had seen the procedure on two of his three older brothers. David and Luke both got sent away the day they turned 18. David, Luke and Andrew were kids from his dad’s previous marriage. The three brothers had a small build. They looked twinkish; all three of them had to wear glasses, their skins were full of zits. Even on their 18th birthdays, their faces were covered in pimples. No muscles to be spotted. The first person that went away was David, his oldest brother. He was dragged away the morning of his 18th birthday. Andrew remembered the day vividly. He woke up to screaming and the sound of somebody being dragged over the floor. David resisted as much as his weak body could. Finally, they gave him an injection of some sort. Just as Andrew rounded the corner, he saw his oldest brother losing consciousness, his eyes fading away. Two bodybuilders in army clothing dragged his brother away, into an army van. Two years went by, in the beginning, his brother sent letters. They were all addressed to Andrew and Luke. Andrew still kept the first letter of his brother. The message was positive; it went on about how amazing the camp was, how good his fellow soldiers were, not a single negative thing to be spotted. Until Luke remembered that he and David used to write secret notes to each other. For the first few weeks, the two brothers wondered why the sentences had such weird structures. Then, Luke wrote down all capital letters behind each other. “HELP ME” they spelt. They told it to their dad, who laughed it off. After that, the two brothers had to make sure they checked the letterbox before anyone else, or the letters were destroyed before the boys could read it. For the first three months, all letters contained a similar message. Then the messages stopped, and the spelling of the letters deteriorated. One month later, four months after the hidden messages stopped, all letters stopped. The army must’ve found out about the secret messages, six months later, a final letter arrived. The handwriting assembled that of a child. Somebody else surely must’ve tried to write something. But this contained a message “NO HELP. ME GOOD”. After this letter, Andrew’s father and step mum seemed to start on preparing Luke to be sent away to the army. It was better for him not to resist. If he didn’t, he would be home within half a year. He wasn’t supposed to send any letters, after what happened with David. And then, on Luke’s 18th birthday, an army truck stopped in front of the door. Luke obviously chose to follow the advice. When Andrew walked out of his room to check on his brother, he saw him silently followingGeneral to the army truck outside. Before the sun shone down on Andrew’s street, his brother was gone. With his brother disappearing, all signs of him in the house disappeared as well. Andrew never heard anything from his brother again. His parents were silent about it all; all the pictures of his brothers were removed from the house. And now Andrew was here, lying in bed on his 18th birthday. He finished making up his mind about the past years without his brother, the agonizing pain of not being allowed to tell his friends that he might never see them again hit him. The distinct sound of the doorbell ended his thoughts. It was time. Andrew jumped out of bed, but on his tracksuit pants and grabbed the bags he packed the night before. Deciding also to follow the advise to be cooperative, the image of his oldest brother getting an injection still instilled in his mind. He had to to leave his bags at the door. “The army will take care of that for you, kid”,the General said. Andrew wanted to speak up, demand that he could take some personal belongings with him. Then he remembered the injection again, and he decided not to. He obediently put down the bags and walked outside to the van, not even waving his parents goodbye. The door was closed as soon as he left the house. He saw the army van for the first time up close, the first thing he noticed was that there were other people in it already. Almost all boys inside looked to be his age and one older man, who looked more like a dad himself. As Andrew entered the van, taking place on the last available seat, he saw 7 other grim faces. The older guy looked to be the most shocked. As the van began to move, Andrew could hear that the older man was saying stuff under his breath. “The guy looked like me” he put his head in his hands as he said so, “exactly like me. How will she know? They brainwashed her; they must have. I shouldn’t have resisted the offer. They brainwashed her to put me out of the house. And now, she’s with him. What about my boys?” The guy just kept on rambling completely upset with what happened. Andrew looked around the van. He could only see the people he was sitting within the back, the driver’s compartment had been sealed off, and they were unable to see anything. Finally, Andrew’s eyes rested on the blonde boy sitting next to him. He looked to be around his age, and the only question Andrew could form left his mouth: “It’s your birthday too?” The blonde gave a quick nod. Andrew immediately asked a new question: “Where, where are they taking us?”, his fear made his voice crack a little there. The boy moved his eyes to something that appeared to be a camera next to a speaker. “No speaking to each other!”, a voice commanded through the speaker. “Now that you’re all here, however, I can explain to you guys where we are going. You were selected for a special program from the military in search to create a super-soldier. You guys were lucky enough to receive warnings from your older brothers not to resist us. That’s good. We like it that way, except for Henry here. You may have noticed he’s a lot older than you guys. That’s because he has three young boys who were selected for the program when they turn 18. He decided to resist our offer, so we had to replace him with a copy of him, a copy that’s a bit more obedient to our suggestions. But don’t worry Henry, you’ll be a part of our experiments now.” After saying this, Henry started crying out loud, and the speaker shut off. Leaving the group with only the sounds of the van and Henry’s sobbing. Andrew rested in his faith, as most boys appeared to do. The road to the military facility seemed to take forever, and Andrew drifted off now and then. Just after he woke up, he guessed eight full hours had passed by now. The windows seemed to get covered by something dark. This was preventing the people in it to look at their surroundings. No idea of where they ware, the journey went on for another hour before the van finally stopped. The doors opened and the young men inside needed a minute to adjust to the sunlight flooding in. “Come out now boys!”General commanded. As the boys walked out, Andrew immediately noticed an incredibly muscled guy standing just outside of the van, looking at the boys from a little distance. Andrew’s jaw almost hit the floor when he saw the guy. The man in front of him had blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. He was wearing a tight green t-shirt and cargo pants that hugged his muscled legs very tightly. Andrew had seen some images of hyper muscled guys when he was looking for “chicks with massive tits” on the internet. This guy, however, dwarfed all the pictures he’d seen before. The front of the cargo pants looked like a turkey had been stuffed inside of them. His t-shirt hung loosely around his narrow waist, and the sleeves were straining against massive biceps. At that moment, to Andrew, a god himself had descended from heaven. The blonde guy that sat next to Andrew on their way here clearly didn’t share Andrew’s view of the guy. “Ronald! Ronald is that you? What the fuck did these guys do to you?” By the end of the sentence, the blonde was practically screaming, running towards the god-like figure a few metres away from them. “Rob, stay here! I command you.” General said mockingly, trying to stop him. Ronald didn’t react to his name at first, but he did respond to the guy running towards him. A slight grin formed on his face, and he retrieved a little injection needle from his pocket. When Rob closed the little distance in between them, Ronald stapped him straight in the neck. From where he was standing, Andrew wasn’t able to see Rob’s face. “Wha… what’s… happ…” Before he was able to finish his sentence, Rob lost consciousness and fell to the floor. Ronald picked the blonde boy from the floor and carried him out of sight for the others. “Okay boys, let this be a lesson for all of you; behave yourselves. Some people here might look familiar to you, but rest assured they won’t show any sign of recognizing you. So don’t end up like Rob. And now we’re off to the barracks, you will start your training immediately after settling in. From now on you guys will be on a tough diet and work out regimen. Welcome to the army boys.” Three days had passed. The first night the group was put through the most intense workout any member of the group had ever experienced. Everybody had struggled, eventually giving up on giving their full 100% in the workout. The trick was to make the general think that you were pushing yourself. It turned out the entire group would make for some good actors! Henry, the group’s dad, was the first that lost his façade. He just gave up, put down the weights and started sobbing again, calling for his wife and kids. After seeing this, General walked over to Henry, leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Immediately after this, Henry’s back straightened, and he got a stern look on his face. The rest of the workout, Henry put more than a 100% into his exercises. Nobody considered it possible, but after General offered him a special type of drink, Henry’s muscles seemed to grow with every rep. The general looked up to the rest of the group and noticed them staring with an intense stare. “Well, I tend to have some very forcing whispers as you guys see. If this causes you discomfort, feel free to get your earphones for the next workout and listen to some music during your workouts! But don’t forget, the special water will be mandatory from tomorrow on.” Indeed, the next day during breakfast a special purple drink was served. This was the only colourful thing most of the group had as a meal. All the meals on the army grounds seemed to consist of a grey goo. Andrew looked at Henry’s plate, and he noticed the goo was purple and he had a nice steak served with it as well. A weird type of breakfast, Andrew thought. As Andrew was finishing his grey goo, the ground started shaking a little. The doors to the cafeteria flung open, but where light should’ve been flooding in through the open doors, most of it was blocked by a giant silhouette. A figure that rivalled the other soldiers that Andrew grew accustomed of in the past day. The figure stepped inside, closing the doors behind him. When he turned his face towards the room, Andrew’s jaw hit the floor again. Standing at the entrance was somebody that looked like Rob’s twin brother. The guy had the same blonde hair and small nose as the guy that sat next to Andrew on the bus just a day before. But of course, somebody couldn’t grow that large in one day! The Rob look-a-like started walking towards Andrew’s table. He smiled a beautiful white smile and then asked with a booming voice: “Hey Andrew, is this spot still free?” Andrew found his ability to speak after a bit of a struggle: “R-R-Rob? Is that you?” “I’ll take that as a yes”; the blonde god spoke as he sat down at the table, the chair underneath him letting out a few noises in protest of the weight. Rob was eating a steak, just like Henry. He looked around franticly, and when Rob saw that no other soldiers were around, he bent over a bit to Andrew. As he turned towards Henry, Rob dropped his voice to a slight whisper. “They didn’t get my mind yet. Be sure to take some earphones to the gym session this afternoon. Meet me afterwards outside behind the main building in the north of the camp. Be careful not to show anybody a sign that you know anything. See you then.” Rob looked up as one of the soldiers marching in the cafeteria hushed them. “You two, eat!”, the guard practically yelled at them. Rob and Andrew finished their meals in silence. Immediately after drinking the purple drink, Andrew noticed his muscles aching less. His body was getting a nice pump to start the workouts that afternoon. He actually started to feel a little excited to workout, and clearly, the other guys felt similar. Most of them were chatting enthusiastically, and Andrew only remembered to take his earphones at the last minute before going out of the building to get to the gym barrack. It turned out he was the only one that remembered to take their earphones. As they were walking in the middle of the grey barracks, the sun burning on their bodies clad in army gear, multiple men referred to their forgotten earphones and music. “Oh men, don’t fear” Henry’s voice boomed through the group. “You’ll like hearing the General’s voice pushing you to the limit. YEAH LET’S GO!” That final statement ended with Henry clapping his hands together, flexing his arms in the process. The gym building was pretty close to the guys’ dormitory, and as they walked in rows of two, Andrew again was assigned to Rob. They were walking next to the blonde guy, seeing how he had hulked up. Henry’s dick went semi-hard. “weird”, thought Andrew “I never chub up around a guy.” Before Andrew could give his strange arousal another thought, the group arrived at the gym. The General immediately put them through the same intense session as the day before. Andrew secretly tried to check in the other guys. Henry was in a similar mood as the day before, hyper-focused on his training. He was screaming through his reps as his muscles kept tensing up and swelling. Everybody noticed the rapid muscle growth on the kidnapped dad. Every rep was bringing his body closer to giants like Rob or the soldiers outside of the gym. Henry wasn’t the only one throwing all of himself into the workout. Since almost all people except for Andrew forgot to take their earphones, the General was walking around. Whispering words into their ears, after a brief exchange of whispers, the eyes of the guy whispered to would get an overly focused gaze to them. After that, the guy wholeheartedly threw himself into the workout, immediately growing his muscles. As the General passed Rob, he started speaking out loud, and Andrew could hear his voice through the music from his earbuds. “Ah Rob, the boys did a good job on you, didn’t they? You look like a real good soldier now!” Upon hearing this, Rob’s eyes fogged over slightly, and he started pushing himself further into the workout. All the guys around Andrew threw themselves into their workouts vigorously, but the General left Andrew alone, just winking at him occasionally as he walked past him. At the end of the workout, Andrew stood up from the benchpress he was laying on and decided to still go to the place that he and Rob would meet up at. Andew stood behind the main building in the north of the camp. The late afternoon sun was shining down on his head. He looked around, looking whether Rob was leaving the gym building already. Finally, a figure left the gym building. Henry squinted his eyes against the sun, and as the figure came closer, he saw that it wasn’t Rob. The General had an evil grin as he approached Andrew. “Well, well, well. Look who’s here. You’re the first person I’ve seen so far that was able to remember to bring his earphones to the second workout. Amazing! We can’t use resisters in this camp, I’m afraid. As you may have noticed by now, we don’t really like people that resist. Let me show you what happened to the people that opposed the moment we tried to take them, I think one of them will be quite familiar to you.” The General concluded with a smirk in his voice. At this moment, Andrew could feel the earth move a little as he saw Rob leave the gym building. Rob walked up to the General with a guilty look in his eyes. “Sorry man, all I need is a trigger now, and he just made me…” Andrew could see Rob’s eyes go empty again as he saw the General squeeze the big bulge in Rob’s tracksuit pants as the muscled giant let out a massive groan. “Yeah, it takes a few days for our convicts to stay in their mental state permanently. Okay now, let’s go boys.” “YES, SIR!” Rob yelled as he started marching further towards the edge of the army camp. After a walk that was relatively far considering they were just inside an army camp, the threesome stood in front of a rather high building. From behind the blinded windows, Andrew could hear sucking noises and faint moans. A glance at Rob’s pants showed that at least someone was exciting to stand close to this building. Andrew just got a bad feeling from it. The General slid open some doors that made the building look more like a barn than an army building. As the General closed the doors behind them, Andrew’s eyes needed a second to get used to the lack of lighting, caused by the black paper covering up the windows. His mouth opened in shock, another door was in front of them, the moans behind it unbearably loud. In front of the door stood two guards, just as muscled as the other soldiers in the camp. Andrew focused his gaze on the guard standing on the left side of the door. While all other soldiers he had seen so far were wearing camouflage coloured pants, this one was wearing tight compression pants that reached just above the knee. His calves stood out like diamonds, and his quads were wider than Andrew’s hips. The shorts had trouble containing a throbbing dick that almost showed it’s head on the bottom of the right leg. His balls made the crotch look like two small melons were put in there. Cobblestone abs, eight in total followed the narrow waist. His pecs stood out, forming shelves under his face. His lats almost seemed to form wings behind him, causing his arms to form an angle. His traps almost entirely swallowed the giant’s neck. Now that Andrew finally raised his head to look at the guy’s face, his mouth fell to the floor. Of course, somebody gets used to seeing muscled guys everywhere if you see them all the time, but the face shocked him. The face of this giant, showed his older brother Luke, the one that got sent away directly before him. After getting over the initial shock, Andrew wanted to run towards his brother and call out his name. Just in time, he remembered what happened to Rob. He took a final glance at the soldier’s eyes, staring towards something, only the two guards could see. “Ooh, yeah that’s right. One of these guards should look quite familiar to you, Andrew!” The General said out loud. “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to spend time with him soon enough!” As the General said that, he gave a stern nod towards the guard who pressed their backs against the door, causing it to open minimally. The General slipped through the gap, as did Rob, pulling Andrew behind him. The room behind the doors had bright lights, so bright that Andrew had to cover his eyes for a second. The General clearly tried to say something, but all the background noise completely overpowered him. The first sound that stood out in the cacophony of noises were the moans. The room sounded like an orgy bigger than any porn movie Andrew had ever seen. And then there was a sucking sound, not as if somebody was sucking on something, no a machine. Andrew slowly opened his eyes and let them adjust to the lights. He thought his mouth couldn’t hit the floor any harder than it already had in the past few days, but this was a new shock for the 18-year-old. The General, Rob and Andrew stood on some sort of platform, looking over a slightly lower room. On the floor, about 4 metres below the platform, a group of musclebound people sat, feeding from tubes. The sucking noises were made by big tubes attached to the freaks’ cocks. Sucking the cum out of them, and then, the cum seemed to travel towards a big tank. It reminded Andrew of the times he visited a dairy farm in his youth. The General bent over towards Andrew. “Now, you might want to prepare for what’s next. Your eldest brother is down there.” Andrew’s stomach sank. As the threesome descended down the stairs, Andrew could see that the room continued underground. Dozens of men must’ve been in the room, sucking on tubes and getting their dicks sucked. Some had army men, the kind that Andrew got used to by now, fucking them from behind. The eyes of both cumcows and soldiers only showing utter bliss. The only difference in them was that the guys bottoming seemed to have lost their intelligence. Their mouths constantly drooling. Their dicks were enormous, reaching out well above their heads. The balls were bigger as well, the only other difference with the regular soldiers besides dicks and balls was the look in their eyes. It was hard to describe, but to Andrew, they just looked dumb. His fears turned out to be accurate, the guy in front of them, getting fucked senseless by a soldier at the moment, was his oldest brother. The guy… was David. The General started speaking again: “As I said before, and as you may have noticed by now, we don’t like resisters. We try to form a super army, and we thought we should try to form a bond between the soldiers that was as strong as possible. We were making them gay and hungry for each other. That worked pretty much straight away after the transformation is complete, only super-soldiers will make you horny. Not only that, if you don’t get fucked or get to fuck after two days, you’ll slowly go crazy. The first version of our virus made people stupid as a rock, and caused…” The General paused for a second, “some more significant dick growth than we wanted. Their balls were set to produce the serum themselves, giving them the possibility to enslave the enemy. However, in the end we found out that caused the loss in cognitive abilities, so we had to take that out of the serum. The second prototype worked like a charm! In the end the government decided to stop the funding, so we lost most of our serum. Luckily we still had some of the first serum left. A slight adjustment to that caused their inflated balls to produce the second version of the serum. It’s complicated, but it worked! So now we just mix some of that cum into your food and drinks. The subliminal messages in the gym, enhanced by my commands, activate the serum. Our Research department didn’t stop there though, to guarantee a stable supply of new recruits, we bribed parents into giving us their children. If they resist, we clone them with some more… agreeing versions of themselves. We just send the women to an island. Most men end up in this building, as our serum cows. Your brother was different, though. He decided to resist and kept on resisting even as his mind was melting away into his balls. Too bad, he shouldn’t have needed to become a cow. Unfortunately, I don’t make the rules. And now, say goodbye to your life as you know it.” The General turned towards Rob and commanded: “Rob, start fucking little David here!” “YES, SIR!”, Rob replied as he undid his pants, lowering them. His cock seemed to go on for ages, it turned out he was as hung as the guard’s at the door. Andrew had been silent all the time, completely dumbfounded. The General bent over and said: “Now, be a good jock-soldier and eat your brother's cum. And with you along, I’ll make the army pay for ever stopping our funding.” At these words, Andrew felt the enormous need to obey, and so he did. The General unhooked the tube and Andrew started sucking his older brother’s dick, while Rob fucked David into oblivion. As his brother started cumming, Andrew blacked out. --- “WAKE UP, YOU FATARSES. BREAKFAST IS SERVED SOON.” Andrew lifted his head, he was awake for quite some time. He looked down towards a guy playing around with his dick. After what happened in “the barrack”, Andrew only saw the other soldiers as his brothers. He believed, however, that this one was called Luke, and he had some special bond with him. They both looked quite alike, Andrew thought as he blew his former brother’s mouth. Quickly after they went out of bed, got dressed and walked towards the breakfast hall. In there a bigger recruit, Andrew believed his name was “Henry” or something, threw himself into an already intense pull-up session on the doorframe. He clearly tried to show the general his best. Andrew sat next to his brother in arms, a guy he at one point thought of as “Rob”. The guy was an absolute beast and Andrew loved the way he filled his ass! As he started eating his breakfast, the General started speaking. “Recruits, after months of extensive training, the time has come! This nation can no longer continue it’s crimes agains the people that should rightfully be in power. Just look at you! You are super-soldiers!” The group started cheering as the General started yelling. “You are super-soldiers and together we will move towards the capital! We will make this country ours!” To Andrew, the future looked bright.

POLLINATION: The Series! – BOOK ONE, pts 1-8 (AUTHOR’S INTRO: In the tradition of TV Shows based on movies (i.e. M*A*S*H, PLANET OF THE APES, WESTWORLD), we present POLLINATION: The Series! We take this approach to allow the Original Story to remain independent and retain its original impact, structure and voice, while allowing us to play with the concept and characters introduced there. Although the Original Story is referenced within The Series, we consider that more of an “Easter Egg” than a plot necessity. The Series starts a week or so after the Original Story ends, but the “rules” for the two universes are the same. (It has always been the intent of the Author that The Series be more open-ended, as one would expect from a TV Show seeking to last for multiple seasons. If one thinks of “Book One” as “Season One” and the new material in “Book Two” as “Season Two,” this will more accurately convey the spirit the Author attempts. Also, that gives us at least three more seasons before we jump the shark. (Aside: the TV Show “Happy Days” (where the phrase “jump the shark” originated) was based on the movie AMERICAN GRAFFITI.) (Welcome to POLLINATION: The Series! If this is your first time in this weird little corner of the universe, get ready for a crazy ride. It’s not the movie, but it’s a lot of fun!) 1. When he got on the plane, there was an audible gasp from coach class. This guy was gigantic, bigger than them bodybuilders in the magazines, larger than any human most of these rural-West Virginians had ever seen. That he could even squeeze down the narrow aisle way was miraculous – he had to go sideways for the width of his shoulders. When he finally got to his row, the look on his seatmate’s face flickered between envious lust and uncomfortable fear. This massive giant slid down into his seat, barely, barely fitting in the space – his shoulders still crowded his seatmate. He apologized to the man sharing the row, his voice a deep, sexy rumble. “We didn’t think it was gonna be this difficult,” he said. Despite his size, his face looked like it belonged to a teenager, fresh and innocent. “We didn’t realize how large we’ve actually become.” He adjusted his balls as if it were no big deal, and even there he was ridiculously over-developed. The little nebbish he shared a seat with couldn’t believe the size of this monster’s cock, barely hidden beneath a too-thin layer of pants. With a member like that, it was no wonder the boy spoke in first-person plural. The big teen smiled. “Like what you see?” he asked, lightly touching himself. Even the smallest, most insignificant muscle was pumped to exaggeration – his fingers, his forearms. He was just perfect. A fantasy. His seatmate looked shyly away, stuttering. “I… I…” The muscle-giant laughed, as the plane ran the tarmac. “We know,” he said. “Feels good, too.” He kept one hand on his balls the entire time, cupping them, supporting them – almost protecting them. Maybe they were so heavy it was uncomfortable to let them hang, his seatmate reasoned, preparing the fantasy to which he’d masturbate later. And then they were taking off, G-forces pulling even this heavyweight back into his seat. He looked suddenly uncomfortable, like he was trying to “pop” his ears by yawning. Must be the altitude – “Do you need some gum?” his seatmate managed to choke out, reaching into his breast pocket, when the huge muscleteen began screaming. He tore out of his seatbelt, frantically grabbing his balls, one hand on the side of his head, and stood, his painful screams strengthening. The flight attendants ran to him, even with the difficult slope of the floor during takeoff. “Sir? Sir!” They called. “What’s the matter? What’s happening?” Then, as the pilots leveled off at their cruising altitude, this huge bodybuilder’s eyes rolled back in his head, and there was this heavy, low-pitched bursting sound, like a balloon had popped. His screaming suddenly ceased, and the ridiculously over-muscled boy fell to the floor. He was dead. As the other passengers started screaming themselves, and the attendants strove to regain order, the teen’s former seatmate looked over at the body and saw the liquid stains of blood soaking the front of the muscular kid’s pants. It looked like his balls had exploded. 2. Less than ten hours later, Wolf Murdock’s cell-phone chirped in the pocket of his black trench coat, waking the agent. Grunting deep in his throat, he wiped his face as he sat up on the edge of the bed, feeling how badly he needed a shave. “Coming,” he mumbled, as if the phone could hear him. A clumsy, stumbling little physical bit later, he fished the phone out of his coat, draped over his bedroom chair. “Murdock,” he said in a tone betraying his state. “Sounds like you had a hell of a night.” His partner, Tully. She had a way of projecting her opinions, her judgements – her hidden subtext – even over the phone. “Early morning’s never been my best time. What’s up?” “How soon can you get down here?” she asked. “I got one I think you should see.” What a way to start the day – his supposed day off, as a matter of fact – a dead body on an empty, gin-soaked stomach. Murdock walked to the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the shower. “Gimme an hour,” he said, and hung up on Tully. To rebel, he didn’t shave. 3. “Apparently, the victim had some sort of convulsion during the take-off of a small commuter plane. The airline had no idea what was going on – they assumed heart-attack – but I think from the appearance of the corpse that the cause is more like altitudinal pressure.” Murdock and Tully walked across the tile workfloor of the medical wing, the click of her heels echoing in the empty room, a staccato counterpoint to the legato squeak of his sneakers. Somehow, as always, she looked fresh and clean and perfectly manicured – exactly the opposite of him. “What do you mean?” he asked. “His heart burst?” She sighed, and swung open the door to the examination room. “Not his heart,” she said, and motioned him inside. The corpse was huge, lying there – Frankenstein’s monster, the Cardiff Giant, a brainless robot from a Bugs Bunny cartoon – Murdock flashed through all these images in a heartbeat. Naked but for a towel covering its privates, the corpse’s extreme muscular development was obvious. “Big boy,” Murdock said. “So, we’re thinking steroids?” “He doesn’t show any of the classic signs of obvious steroid use,” Tully said, circling the victim on the table, pulling a fresh set of gloves from the instrument table. “No acne on the face or body, his abdomen isn’t distended. If he’d been taking steroids,” she said, snapping the gloves on her hands, “I won’t know until I do the bloodwork.” “So then, why am I here?” Murdock raised one of the corpse’s arms, and bent it like it was flexing its biceps. Murdock flexed his own in comparison. Tully’s dry look made him lay the arm back down. “Are we thinking aliens?” She motioned him to the same side of the table where she stood, then pulled back the towel, exposing the corpse completely. He almost vomited when he saw the condition of the corpse’s genitals – like any man, it made him weak in the knees. Within the hour, he was on a hopper-flight to West Virginia to investigate. 4. Tully had stayed behind to do the autopsy – she’d call him when she had any information. In a way, that was preferable to Murdock – he enjoyed doing leg-work by himself. He could follow his hunches without needing to explain himself. His hunch here was that this guy – Robert Ray, though his friends referred to him as “Robbie Ray” – had gotten himself into some kind of weird drug, maybe something that he’d injected straight into his balls, and it’d killed him. Simple as that. Murdock suspected some kind of steroid – Robbie Ray’s driver’s license listed the guy’s weight at one seventy-five, and the license was issued less than a year ago. Tully said Robbie Ray’s corpse weighed over three-hundred and ten pounds. Somehow, Robbie Ray had gained enough muscle to almost double his body-weight in less than a year. Didn’t take an FBI investigator to figure there was an outside influence involved. At the airport, he rented a car – a sub-compact, of all things – and began the long trek to Robbie Ray’s hometown, dead in the middle of nowhere, far enough from an urban center that Murdock couldn’t imagine how a man like Robbie Ray had gotten ahold of a drug as sophisticated as what Murdock theorized. Maybe it WAS aliens… A one-light crossroads of a town, Murdock checked into the Main Street Motel because the name tickled his quaint-ness. After a shower and a quick shave, he set out to find a diner, and then the Sheriff. Fortunately, the two came together. When Murdock asked the old-gal behind the counter, whose bright red name-tag announced her as “Sharlene,” she jerked her head toward the side booths, while she filled his coffee cup. “He’s right over there, love,” she said. “Hard to miss a man as big as Sheriff Lane.” Sure enough, seated there in the corner booth, making short work of a short-stack and a side of eggs, his uniform a dead giveaway, was the Sheriff, heavily-muscled himself. Though nowhere near the size of Robbie Ray, he was big enough to make one question how natural he might be. He wore his uniform tight, stretching over his voluminous, blocky chest, showing the flatness of his abs, even sitting down, and his arms, barely – barely – a heart’s beat away from bursting through his sleeves of his tan uniform. Murdock took his coffee with him. “Is everyone in this town a bodybuilder?” he asked, standing at the Sheriff’s table. The Sheriff looked up from his plate, finishing his mouthful. “Do I know you?” he asked, after he swallowed. A strikingly handsome middle-aged man, rugged, his thinning blonde-gray hair was cut in a tight flat-top, down to the skin on the sides. Meticulously groomed, Murdock noted, he obviously took great pride in his appearance. Maybe to the point of vanity. Murdock flashed his ID, showing his badge. “Agent Murdock, FBI,” he said. “May I sit down?” “Sure,” the Sheriff said, nodding to the other seat. As Murdock settled himself, the Sheriff asked, “What brings the FBI to Bum-fuck, West Virginia this morning?” “The death of one of your local boys,” Murdock said, sipping his coffee. “Name of Ray. Robbie Ray.” The Sheriff reacted, jerking his head the tiniest bit. The news obviously surprised him. “Robbie Ray?” he asked, his eyes becoming intense in their gaze. “Where’d this happen? When?” “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” Murdock said. Sharlene appeared with his order, placing it in front of him and disappearing just as quickly, not even asking if he’d need anything. Both Murdock and the Sheriff were quiet while she was present. After she was back behind the counter, Murdock continued. “Last night, he boarded a flight bound for Atlanta and suffered an apparent heart-attack during takeoff.” The Sheriff was quiet, his big arms resting on the table, a look of concern and confusion mixed with disbelief on his face – Murdock was certain his reaction was genuine. The Sheriff shook his head. “That’s a damn shame,” he said. “He was barely more than a boy, just graduated high school.” “Pretty big boy,” Murdock said, cutting into his sausage. “He weighed over three-hundred pounds.” He took a mouthful. Sheriff Lane looked even more confused. “Robbie RAY?” he asked. “Agent Murdock, you got somethin’ wrong. Robbie Ray weighed a buck-fifty if he was lucky. He was one of the skinniest kids I’d ever seen.” Murdock stopped chewing. “Sheriff, when was the last time you SAW Robbie Ray?” “Three days ago,” the Sheriff said. “The day before him and that construction crew he worked with went up missing. What the hell’s goin’ on here, Mr. Murdock?” Murdock took another quick mouthful before he retrieved his briefcase. “I don’t know, Sheriff,” he said, “but I have some pictures to show you.” As the Sheriff studied the photos of Robbie Ray’s corpse, Murdock finished his eggs. 5. “So, Sheriff, mind if I ask you a personal question?” They walked along the abandoned construction site – no, not just abandoned – deserted. Jobs were left half-finished, building materials left out and untended. There were no personal tools lying around, Murdock noted. Wherever these guys had gone, they’d taken their stuff. No sign of foul play. The Sheriff peeked into different half-built buildings and even allowed Murdock to enter the company trailer, the temporary office where the foreman worked; but aside from the standard furniture, discarded paperwork, and a couple of dead potted plants, there was nothing to find. No clues about what had happened to them at all, no hints about where they’d gone, nothing. Now, they walked along the edge of the forest on the outside perimeter of the site, taking one last sweep. The Sheriff was an even larger man than Murdock had first surmised – maybe because half of him had been hidden by a table when Murdock first approached him at the diner. Over six-feet, Murdock guessed the Sheriff weighed between two-forty and two-fifty, and his large frame looked like it could handle more weight easily. He looked like a professional wrestler, or at least projected that kind of energy. He sure did like wearing his uniform tight – lucky it was polyester, he would’ve burst out of cotton. As it was, it could barely stretch over the man’s heavy muscle. Along with the black boots, sunglasses and cowboy hat, Sheriff Lane looked a little more like a porn-movie character than an officer of the law in West Virginia. “Go ahead,” the Sheriff said, a man of few words. “Ask.” They kept walking – Murdock secretly enjoyed all this open, unspoiled land, even with the blight of this dead construction site here – city-folk always did. “Well, I wouldn’t be much of an investigator if I didn’t ask the obvious question. I’m here looking into the death of a man who seems to have gained almost two-hundred pounds of muscle in a matter of days and the first person I meet when I come to town is the bodybuilder Sheriff. Tell me that’s a coincidence.” The Sheriff cracked the edge of a smile – it was the most emotion Murdock had seen from the man yet so far – he grunted instead of laughing. “It’s a coincidence,” he said in his deep voice. “And a shitty coincidence at that. I’ve been into bodybuilding since I was eighteen – that’s almost thirty years, Mr. Murdock – and some kid comes along and gains more weight in three days than I have in my whole life.” The Sheriff removed his hat and wiped his forehead. “I wouldn’t call that very fair.” Murdock nodded. “What about a gym? Is there a gym in town where Robbie Ray could’ve gotten connected with some kind of steroid?” The Sheriff shook his head and put his hat back on. “No gym,” he said. “Not within fifty miles. The only place to lift weights around here is my garage – as a matter of fact, the construction crew we’re lookin’ for did the renovations for me. They put in the skylight, the extension, laid the new floor – it’s a damn nice job. You should come by and see it.” Murdock laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t have the patience for weight-lifting.” “It’s not patience, Mr. Murdock. It’s discipline.” Murdock conceded. “Then I don’t have the discipline. I’m afraid the only way I’d ever become a bodybuilder is if there WERE some kind of magic steroid that did it instantly, some comic-book transformation that required no effort on my part. What about you?” “What about me?” Sheriff Lane asked, subtly adjusting his balls in his pants – so tight, they seemed painted on. Murdock couldn’t imagine how the Sheriff dressed the way he did – swear to God, it looked like his uniform was shrinking as time went by – and it left nothing to the imagination! Not that the Sheriff had anything to be embarrassed about there, Murdock noticed – his package was no small thing. Some men had all the luck. Murdock’s jealousy surprised him in its force. He formed his question carefully. “I guess what I’m asking is: what would YOU be willing to do to get a body like yours?” he asked. “Or a body like Robbie Ray’s?” The Sheriff stopped walking and faced him, suddenly serious. Murdock couldn’t help but be a little intimidated – the Sheriff looked even bigger when he was angry. “Mr. Murdock,” he said, his voice low, intense, “The only way something’s coming into my body is if it were grown in the earth –organic, natural – and that includes magic steroids.” Maybe he realized he was leaning in a little close, maybe he’d made his point and decided to back off, whatever. The Sheriff stood straight, then added, “Do I make myself clear?” “I don’t mean to insult you,” Murdock said. “I’m just trying to get some answers.” Sheriff Lane nodded slightly, crossing his arms, making sure Murdock saw their impressive size, making sure Murdock knew who was really in charge around here. “Well, you got one,” the Sheriff said. “And you hardly insulted me at all. Let’s get out of here, Mr. Murdock – there’s more valuable places to spend our time.” Reluctantly, Murdock agreed, and he and the muscular Sheriff drove back to town. The last thing the Sheriff said as he dropped Murdock off at the Main Street Motel was, “You should really come on over and catch a workout – at least check out my little gym. The light in the afternoon is incredible.” Then the Sheriff smiled, the first true smile Murdock had seen on the man’s face, his rugged, strong jaw – damn, that man had a heavy jaw – but then, so had Robbie Ray. “You might also find out how wrong you are about working out. See you later, Mr. Murdock. You have my number if you need it.” Murdock waived him off and went to his room, where he found a little surprise waiting. 6. Housekeeping had been in – the bed was turned down, the bathroom was clean, the towels were fresh – and someone had left a gaudy flower arrangement on the table by the window. Murdock laughed – small-town niceties. Nobody must ever visit this place. The flowers smelled kind of nasty, actually, even from a distance – it reminded him of old sex a little, stale and musty. He opened the window behind the arrangement to air the room a bit. Flopping back on the small sofa, he pulled out his cell phone and called Tully. “Hey, it’s me,” he said when she answered. “I’m hoping you’ve learned something.” “Not very much,” she said. “Bloodwork showed absolutely nothing unusual. There was a slight elevation in his testosterone level, but nothing indicative of steroid abuse. The cause of death, though, wasn’t the obvious. Aside from his testicles, his pituitary gland also burst – that was what actually killed him. I’m still suspecting atmospheric pressure, but I’ve never seen anything like this. I wish I had more to tell you.” “What’s the pituitary gland? What’s that do?” “The pituitary gland’s main function is the secretion of growth hormone, and Robbie Ray’s was clearly working overtime, but I don’t have any evidence of outside influence. Well, there is one strange thing…” “Anything, anything,” Murdock said, rolling his eyes. “Any lead on why an eighteen year old kid would gain two-hundred pounds of muscle in three days. Make that make sense to me, Tully.” “Well, I don’t think it’s terribly unusual, given that he worked in outside construction, but there was an awful lot of dust in his lungs. It looks like plant pollen – we’re analyzing it now.” “Pollen…?” Murdock suddenly looked at the flower arrangement sitting on the table by the window. All this talk today of organics, and plants… Empty flower pots in the foreman’s trailer… Murdock’s conspiracy-theory mind-set clicked into gear. “I’ll call you back,” he said to Tully and clicked his phone off, dropping it on the coffee table. Slowly, cautiously, he approached the arrangement, studying it. Potted, not fresh cut – one main plant and a lot of decorative spray accenting. It was one of the ugliest flowers Murdock had ever seen. It looked like a big cock. Flashing on “Invasion of the Body-Snatchers” and “The Outer Limits,” Murdock began theorizing. Because of his video-based paranoia, before he got too close to the plant, he went into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, dampening it quickly beneath the cold water. He held the washcloth over his nose and mouth as he went in for a closer look. He’d ever seen anything like it, though its long, tubular blossom reminded him of a Pitcher Plant, except it looked so much like a porn-star’s cock. The bulb that produced the blossom lay half-exposed in the dirt, itself resembling a nut-sac. As he brought his face closer to the flower, he could swear he saw the blossom move, take aim almost. Before he could react, the flower shot a cloudy wad of golden pollen directly at Murdock’s face. It was like it coughed, or burped – it just expelled the dust, hitting Murdock directly in the washcloth. He backed away from the plant quickly, actually frightened. Holding his breath, he pulled the washcloth from his face and folded it in on itself, to save the sample. In the bathroom, before he even tried to breath, he washed his face and hands thoroughly. It was some kind of PLANT that had done the boy – some kind of quasi-botanical invasion – although Murdock suspected there was some kind of human hand behind it – plants didn’t arrange themselves with decorative sprays. Was there some kind of evil, bodybuilder-florist in this town, or was the conspiracy broader than he first thought? He pocketed his cell-phone, leaving the room – leaving the plant and the pollen sample behind – and got directions to the Sheriff’s house from the man at the front desk. Only three blocks, it was easier to walk. And instead of calling Tully, he dialed Sheriff Lane. 7. “Mr. Murdock, I’m surprised to hear from you so soon. What’s up?” “Sorry to bother you, Sheriff,” Murdock said, walking at a brisk pace, panting a little, “but I’m on my way to your house right now. I think I finally understand what’s going on around here.” He crossed off of Main Street and went up the tree-lined Oak Ave. “You do? Really?” asked the Sheriff. “Excellent. We… I look forward to seeing you, then.” “Actually, Sheriff, if you look outside your window, you’ll see me approaching your house right now.” Murdock walked up the shrub-lined path that led to the side door. As meticulously groomed as the Sheriff, so too was his landscaping. Between his lawn and his body, when did the man find time for the law? His cruiser was parked in the driveway, which was how Murdock was certain the house was his, an old three-story Victorian with a wrap-around porch, bi-tone gray with white shutters. The garage sat back catty-corner from the house – “renovated” didn’t even begin to describe it. Shaped like a miniature barn – there may have been a name for this style, but Murdock didn’t know it – the top third, the part under the peak, had been replaced by glass. Several sky-lights ran down each side of the roof. It must get great light. The garage-door had been replaced by a new wall – no windows on the street-side. The only entrance was on the house-side of the garage, and that was covered by a screen door. Murdock rapped twice on the side door of the house as he turned off his phone. The Sheriff’s deep voice came from behind him. “I’m in the garage, Mr. Murdock.” He heard the screen door open as he turned toward the sound. There stood the Sheriff before him, not ten feet away. Or what had been the Sheriff. Murdock was too late. Sheriff Lane was gigantic – unbelievably gigantic. As big as Robbie Ray had been – and then some. Where Robbie Ray had been a lifeless corpse on a slab, Sheriff Lane was a living, breathing, vital being. His muscle was swollen past the point of possibility, exaggerated by his failing attempt to wear his uniform, where even the polyester was giving up the struggle. The buttons on his shirt had each popped, exposing the deep cleavage between the halves of his impossible pecs – his badge balanced on the ledge where the nipple had already lost its grip. His shoulders and back couldn’t be contained much longer – as it was, the seams were unraveling. His pants fared better – but only a bit. He stood at attention, his legs spread wide, showing the thickness of his thighs and his solid, over-blown calves. He still wore his boots and gun-belt comfortably, which meant that only his muscles had grown, not his waist or his feet. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The tightness of the pants also displayed the size of the Sheriff’s package, on par with what Robbie Ray’s had PROBABLY looked like. His thick cock had pushed itself halfway down his left thigh, and was no doubt responsible for the split in his pant’s left seam. And his balls – unlike Robbie Ray’s – were easily the size of oranges, maybe even grapefruit, well-formed and obvious. He wasn’t wearing the cowboy hat, but it looked like he still could. As a matter of fact, his head looked almost too small for his body. But for the widening of his jaw to accommodate his bull-neck, it would’ve. The Sheriff actually looked more handsome, if rugged, working-class muscle-heads were your type. He looked content. “Holy shit,” Murdock said, taking an involuntary step back. The Sheriff smiled. “We’re finally complete,” he said, flexing his arms, tearing the sleeves. “What do you think?” Murdock was speechless – a first. “Oh, my God…” Laughing, the Sheriff said, “You were the one who said you wanted it like a comic book.” He flexed a most-muscular, and the sound of his shirt tearing up the back preceded his triumphant yell. “Well, how’s THAT for ‘The Incredible Hulk?’” He reached across his body – like Lou Ferrigno – and tore the shirt from his torso, throwing it to the ground, exposing muscles that dwarfed anything seen on campy, 70’s tele-drama or even the fanciest, high-tech CGI. All he wore now were his pants – and they were barely hanging on – his boots and his gun-belt. “You sent the plant…” The Sheriff nodded. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring it with you,” he said, adjusting those massive balls. “Most guys get very protective of…” He suddenly paused, and looked at Murdock suspiciously. “You didn’t get pollinated,” he said simply. Murdock shrugged. “In my line of work, you get suspicious of innocent gifts. I’ve seen ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers,’ thanks.” “This isn’t like that,” the Sheriff said, with a quick flex of his pecs. “They’re plants, yes, but they don’t understand concepts like good and evil. Morality is a human attribute. They simply seek to re-populate an almost extinct species. It’s their only goal, not the subjugation of the human race. Does that make sense to you, Mr. Murdock?” “Oh sure, today it’s repopulation, but tomorrow it’s domination. An army of guys like you would be pretty formidable.” “If they controlled us, which they don’t.” Sheriff Lane began walking toward him, his massive thighs navigating effortlessly around each other – he had the grace of an athlete that matched the size of his muscles, not the bulky burden of a bodybuilder. “We work together, Mr. Murdock,” he said, touching his balls. “It’s a symbiotic relationship.” Murdock ran then – who could say why? Maybe it was years of harboring paranoid, alien-invasion fantasies that finally broke him, who knew? He just… couldn’t TAKE it anymore. So he ran. But Sheriff Lane had been transformed into something specifically designed for superior performance – he was a PROTECTOR – his body was now capable of feats that would’ve seemed impossible before the symbiosis. With only two steps for prep, he literally leapt over his cruiser, somersaulting in mid-air and landing gracefully on his feet, right in front of the panicked Murdock. Smiling at his own accomplishment, he caught the fleeing investigator with one gigantic arm. “Going somewhere, Mr. Murdock?” he asked, walking back to the garage, carrying the struggling Murdock with him. “Stop it!” screamed Murdock – where the hell were the neighbors? “I don’t want it! I don’t want it!!” The Sheriff chuckled. “Yes, you do,” he said. “You said so, yourself. Your words now are just your fear.” “No!” Murdock continued, helpless against the iron-strength of the Sheriff’s physique. He could see the Sheriff’s pistol, inches from his face. “NO!!!” “We need intelligent men, Mr. Murdock,” the Sheriff said, opening the screen door and tossing Murdock into the garage, “not just construction-crew yokels with no ambition beyond their own sexual satisfaction. You’ll understand better in a few minutes.” He shut the main door then, and locked it, standing guard outside the screen. Murdock could see him through the glass. He banged on the door for a couple of seconds, already realizing the futility in it. “Damn it,” he mumbled, then remembered the cell-phone in his pocket –he fished it out. A weak signal, but at least something. He pressed Tully’s number. When her service answered, Murdock muttered a swear and turned around. “Tully, I need you to…” Then he saw it – them. Everywhere – on every bench, every weight-rack, every shelf, every clear inch of the floor – anyplace that might’ve offered a horizontal resting space. Dozens – hundreds of pots: clay, plastic, and metal, coffee cans too, anything that could hold dirt, bowls and tin-foil broilers, everywhere Murdock looked. The plants. Dozens. Hundreds. Sheriff Lane’s converted gym was the perfect greenhouse – the skylights caught the afternoon sun and reflected it warmly throughout the space, a golden yellow incubator for the row after row, pot after pot of cock-shaped flowers. Flowers that now took aim. “Holy shit,” groaned Murdock, dropping the phone, which broke when it hit the ground, snapping plastically. A burst of pollen hit him square in the forehead, golf-ball sized, but with the consistency of loosely-packed dirt. He snapped his head back in reaction and chuckled nervously. “Missed me,” he said to them, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. Then he was hit in the shoulder, from another angle, then another, in his lower abdomen. And then the barrage started. One after another they pummeled him, like a batting cage gone awry. Murdock might’ve opened his mouth to scream, but sound probably couldn’t get out, the layer of pollen became so thick so quickly. The front half of his body was coated with a good inch of the stuff, making him look like he was struggling with his footing against a yellow-orange blizzard, like frosting on a living snack cake. He finally collapsed, falling over backwards. A couple of last minute volleys hit him in the face, but by then it didn’t matter. He’d stopped holding his breath a while ago. 8. The train pulled into the station with none of the ceremony that would’ve greeted it only a century ago. Everybody flew these days – always in a hurry – and nobody appreciated the Romantic atmosphere provided by a train. He’d forgotten himself – it’d been a long time since he’d traveled for pleasure and not business, this case or that. And flying was out of the question for them now, anyway. Like the others, he’d felt an urge to play Johnny Appleseed, to spread out, to take root. They’d learned their lesson from Robbie Ray, now traveling only by ground or water. Several had just driven off in their trucks, packed up their trailers and their mobile-homes and left for parts unknown, which for a couple of the guys was just outside their own county. They had much more confidence now that they weren’t traveling alone. Sheriff Lane had at least had the foresight to arm them all with cell-phones before they left, so they had some way of keeping track of each other. In person, they could sense when a man harbored a Symbiote – and a Symbiote could sense another from quite a distance away – the outer limit seemed to be about twenty miles. But the Sheriff had little confidence in their success. “You can’t blame the Symbiotes for taking advantage of an opportunity,” he’d said, “but now we have the chance to be a little more particular. The smartest move those guys made was giving a plant to me – to us.” He’d chuckled. “We still have trouble thinking in first-person plural.” He’d stood guard outside his converted garage during Murdock’s entire transformation, enjoying the deep colors of sunset. When the neighbors would walk by, he’d wave congenially. They’d wave back – remembering that the Sheriff was a big man, but not realizing quite HOW big. Many had never seen him without a shirt – he was almost always in uniform – so they had nothing to compare him to. It was possible that he’d ALWAYS been that big. Like most small-town people, they didn’t talk about it until they were behind closed doors. He’d heard Murdock’s struggle, his moans of resistance. Incomprehensible to Sheriff Lane – even more so now – but he’d resisted the impulse to peek through the small window on the door, even when he’d heard the sounds of tearing material – the “Incredible Hulk” fantasy more common than anyone had realized. It would be good to have someone of Murdock’s intelligence with them. He would know better than the Sheriff how to deflect the government, the army, and many of the threats that would greet them at later stages of re-population. Robbie Ray had been a costly mistake this early, bringing attention when they’d least needed it. True enough, it had brought them Murdock, but that was the only silver-lining. At its worst, it had given evidence to a possible adversary. From inside the garage, when Murdock had moaned again, a little more lustful than the last, Sheriff Lane had been able to sense the symbiosis, the acceptance. He’d smiled, but still didn’t look. He’d felt safe about unlocking the door, though. He’d heard Murdock’s orgasm, and hoped Murdock wasn’t wasting the seed, but was distracted suddenly by the beginning of his OWN erection, his sense of discipline failing him slightly. He’d thought those construction-bozos had simply been weak, but if this was how they’d felt when the Symbiotes were in close proximity to each other, it was no wonder that the guys had been having sex constantly. It would be hard to resist. Murdock had stepped out of the garage only a minute or so later. Much improved, though the agent had had a quirky handsomeness before with his lanky, unreliable physique. Not that looks had mattered to Sheriff Lane, or to the Symbiotes themselves – they required their Protectors to be heavily-muscled warriors, not handsome ones – but, as they said in cartoons, “it didn’t HOIT.” Murdock had grown significantly, close in size to the Sheriff himself, maybe twenty pounds lighter – Sheriff Lane still wanted to believe that his years of bodybuilding hadn’t been in vain, and had given him some sort of advantage with the Symbiote. Still lightly dusted in a fine powder, heavier around his mouth and nose, Murdock had been wearing only his boxer shorts when he’d stepped out of the garage, decorated with little spaceships. Only because his fly had been buttoned had they offered any support at all. Like all of the guys, Murdock kept one hand on his package to offer comfort to the Symbiote. He was going to need a different kind of underwear. The Sheriff himself was going to have to start wearing a cup under his uniform if he’d wanted to continue going about his duty – more likely, given his current size, he’d need a cod-piece. For the moment, the two of them stood there facing each other, each in the same pose – one hand offering support to one’s balls – two huge musclemen caught in the act of mutual appreciation. “How do you feel?” the Sheriff had asked. Murdock had smiled. “For the first time in my life, the idea of an alien invasion excites me.” Their coupling had felt even better than their initial symbiosis. Murdock hadn’t considered himself homosexual, but the closer he’d gotten to the Sheriff – or, really, the closer their Symbiotes had gotten to one another – the greater the feelings of pleasure, of growing lust that they’d felt. Attraction and physical pleasure had been alien to the Symbiotes, but they’d noted the effects it’d had on their Protectors. As the Symbiote fed him more testosterone, more adrenaline, more hormonal stimulation, Murdock knew he’d only want other Protectors as partners from there on. No other coupling would ever offer this impact. As he and the Sheriff had pressed their packages together, getting the Symbiotes as close as they possibly could without crushing them, their massive erections rolling against each other’s torsos like logs on a flume, as they had held each other’s hips and gently thrust against each other, the Symbiotes allowed them their orgasms. The flood of their cum had erupted between them like a muscular volcano, like a geyser shooting up between the shelves of their chests, mixing together until it had become one liquid – one single seed. They’d caught it together, cupping it carefully in their hands and then carried it to the backyard garden. After planting it there wordlessly, they’d gone into the house and plotted Murdock’s necessary disappearance, and formulated their first actual plan. Though they both felt the desire, it had been important to the Sheriff to deny the impulse for sex – he’d seemed to define denial as discipline, determined not to succumb to the same fate as “lesser men.” Murdock couldn’t have agreed more, if for slightly different reasons. He’d known that his new-found sexuality was a manipulation of the Symbiote, and he’d wanted to believe that the creature had no influence over him if he hadn’t allowed it. (None of their human failings seemed to affect the Symbiotes at all, who seemed patient enough to wait-out their Protectors’ rationalizations.) Still, Murdock and the Sheriff gave in twice, and Murdock learned a new love of being fucked up the ass by a dominant top. By the next morning, the product of their initial coupling had taken root in the garden. Neither of them had been surprised to discover that something different was growing there – different than what either of them could’ve produced separately. Clearly the same species, but what must have been the next evolutionary step up. What Murdock and the Sheriff had faced in the garden that morning was the obvious drone to their worker bees, royalty to their peasantry, something simply greater than them both. The same sort-of plant, but half-again as tall as the ones in the Sheriff’s garage – a cock of such size and girth that even transformed men such as the Sheriff and Murdock thought it impossible. The bud would easily come up to a normal man’s knee, and be about as thick as his leg. The base of the flower was a dark-bluish purple, which veined up the sides until it reached the soft lilac head – even its bulb had been bigger – a fantasy man’s fantasy cock. It would take the right man to Host this. With great care, in the light of the rising sun, they’d re-potted it in a plastic, traveling pot – a little wider at the base – and made the decision about what to do with it. Using a roll of stiff butcher’s paper that the Sheriff had in his kitchen – though God only knew why – they wrapped it, put a bow on it, and stapled it at the top, making it look like it had just come from the florist’s – a gift for some long-absent mother or girlfriend. It sat on the floor in front of the train-seat next to Murdock now. He was one of only three people in this car – maybe he’d scared the others away. On the other hand, he WAS traveling AWAY from civilization rather than toward it, no doubt more people rode in the other direction. This was the last stop before his destination – a small town in Kansas called “Garden City.” He picked the name because it tickled his quaint-ness – he did that a lot. They needed land, somewhere in the farm-belt, where they could plant and grow and go unnoticed. The name of the town couldn’t matter less to the Symbiote, so Murdock got to assert his own sense of humor. “Cimarron!” the conductor shouted, sticking his head in the door. He looked at Murdock, as he had done so many times on the trip, sort of lusty, but afraid. It was obvious to Murdock that the man had never seen anyone with a build like his – lots of people stared at him, even dressed in baggies as he was. He hated to admit he liked it – vanity was so not him – but he also recognized the need for anonymity at this stage. It was hard to hide with a body like this. “We’ll be stopped for about ten minutes at Cimarron, sir,” the conductor said to him. “If you want to step off the train again. Get some air. Maybe stretch a little…” Murdock smiled – the conductor HAD been watching him, keeping track of him. Maybe he’d even seen what Murdock did. Kept doing. “Thanks,” Murdock said in his low, sexy voice, winking. He stood then so the conductor could get a good look at his incredible mass, then stretched his back, flexing ever-so discreetly. He was starting to like being a flirt. The conductor probably had an erection when he ducked his head out of the doorway – Murdock sure hoped so – at least he was flustered. That was a nice reward, too. Murdock chuckled, surprised at how much he enjoyed his new body – it was like a teenaged, comic-book fantasy. Although maybe the Symbiote was controlling that, too. Oh, it didn’t matter. He stepped off the train into the bright, Kansas sunshine. Though the Symbiote loved the light, Murdock wore heavy sunglasses because it bothered his eyes. He wasn’t used to the midwest. The train station was built close to the Arkansas River, and with his athletic ability, Murdock easily jumped the twenty feet down to the base of the trestle. His feet landed lightly, gracefully, the muscle of his legs supporting his massive upper body. Stepping to an overgrown area, he quickly lowered his pants and pulled out his gigantic cock. The Symbiote allowed him orgasm immediately, and he shot his seed all over the ground, turning around and hitting as much land as he could. He’d done the same thing at every stop along his journey – Dodge City, Kinsley, even Osawatomie – left his seed behind in some out of the way place near each train-yard. Maybe the new flowers would be found, maybe they wouldn’t. If so, well then, all the better. It might also serve as a distraction from what he and Sheriff Lane were really up to. If not, it didn’t matter. They’d have their army soon enough. Two leaps, and a tuck-flip, and Murdock was standing on the platform again. Through the window of the train, he could see the Great Plant was safe, and that was all that mattered. He’d been given the responsibility to find the Host, though he didn’t think his chances of finding one would be very good in Back-water, Kansas – but Sheriff Lane would be under too much scrutiny soon to keep it secure. Tully alone would dog the Sheriff until he went crazy. Fortunately, Murdock had planted several distracting leads to keep her busy. By the time she found him, it would be far too late. “All aboard!” the conductor shouted, and Murdock headed for the train. “Next stop, Garden City! Garden City, all aboard!” That he could even squeeze down the narrow aisle way was miraculous – Murdock actually had to go sideways for the width of his shoulders. When he finally got to his row, this massive giant slid down into his seat, fitting much more comfortably here than he would’ve on a plane. He checked on the well-being of the Great Plant again, and went over his thoughts again about what kind of farmer he needed to find. With his strong hands, he reached down and lovingly supported his balls.

(Hello, friends! I'm posting this CLASSIC ABSMAN story in anticipation of posting the erotic novel that grew out of it. POLLINATION has inspired two comic book adaptations and a slew of fanfic! If this is your first time in the Garden, take your time to stop and smell the flowers...) POLLINATION by absman420 If you expected dumb ol' Mike Milliano to explain the growth-rate of local real estate or the sudden value of property in this traditionally rural area -- you know, the BIG picture -- you were expecting far too much. All Mike Milliano understood was that he had work framing houses for the next twenty weeks, and that it paid enough for him to live through the construction worker's off-season. Other than that, all Mike Milliano cared about was his pick-up truck, his next beer, and what little pussy he could find in this shit-ass flyspeck of a town. He knew this area well, where he grew up. As a boy, Mike and his buddies used to come up here and ride their dirt bikes. It'd been unspoiled land then, lightly forested. If anybody'd actually owned it, he didn't know who -- maybe one of the few farmers that had dotted the landscape in those days -- didn't matter. Now here he was as an adult, clearing that same land, building houses for snotty rich folks who had no history, no connection at all. He tried to pretend he wasn't feeling nostalgia when he slipped away during his lunch hour to walk through the nearby woods. Real men controlled their emotions. Now, sitting at the base of an old oak tree that overlooked a steep, forested slope, Mike Milliano smoked a cigarette and reflected. He wasn't a big man, although he wasn't in bad shape -- working construction kept him fit enough, if he'd hadn't been losing his battle with beer -- but nothing like when he'd played ball in high school. Now, a soft gut rolled over the top of his jeans, and though it bothered him, he did nothing to change it. He still had good, thick arms, and showed them off when he could, but he'd definitely lost his edge. He'd kept his attitude, though. A gruff, unforgiving, obstinate man, he fought as often as he fucked. And he got the same peculiar satisfaction from each. Smirking, Mike removed his well-worn baseball cap and wiped his forehead with the back of one heavily callused hand. Nothing in this old forest but memories, he thought. Time to head back to work. As he was about to stand, a particular flower caught his eye. Now, Mike Milliano was not the type of guy that normally noticed plants -- to him, flowers were just another tool to get into some chick's pants -- but this was like nothing he'd ever seen before. The way it was shaped, it looked like a big dick stickin' up out of the ground. Tube-shaped, like a Venus Flytrap a little, but with the gentle curve of its blossom, it looked exactly like a half-erect cock. A big cock, no less -- the flower was about a foot long. The base was a deep red, which veined its way up until it reached the soft pink "head" -- which was really just a little fold of petal over the end of the bud. When he got close enough, he noticed the half-exposed bulb in the ground, appearing as the flower's swollen ball-sac. He snorted a simple laugh. It's a shame he didn't have a camera -- none of the guys would believe this -- a flower that looks like a dick. He could probably make something off a picture like that. He caught the fragrance in a couple of steps -- frankly, it smelled like old sex, sort of pungent and spicy. All that did was increase his amusement -- it didn't just look like a big ol' dick, it smelled like one, too. Squatting down next to the plant, careful that his workboots didn't accidentally crush it, Mike Milliano leaned in. Certainly, he'd never been this close to a real dick -- and hopefully never would be -- but he almost couldn't help thinking of the image. Suppressing the slightest bit of a gag, Mike brought his mustachioed face close to the bud. It moved -- twitched -- he'd swear it. How could...? Suddenly, the flower before him seemed to burst -- no, actually, to burp -- to cum? -- and a good amount of pollen dusted Mike Milliano's nose, mouth, and mustache. He couldn't help but breathe it in, to taste it, dry and powdery, coating the inside of his mouth and nose. His first instinct was to gasp, which made him breath a little more of it in; he pulled his head back a bit, and brought his hand to his mouth. Brushing the pollen out of his mustache with his thick fingers, he mumbled, "Fucking plants." This close to crushing the stupid flower with his boot, he thought better of it. He could still come up tomorrow and take a picture of it -- a picture of a plant that looks like a guy's package would be worth somethin' -- THEN he could crush the shit out of it. Besides, it wasn't like the silly thing hurt him -- it just launched pollen in his face. Mike Milliano laughed only because no one else was around. His pride was hardly on the line over a fucking flower. Still brushing the last of the shit from his face, he hiked out of the forest and went back to work. ********************************************************************************** "I'm tellin' ya, Smitty, I feel fuckin' awesome! I ain't felt this good since I played ball in high school!" Smitty gave a non-committal grunt and took another swig of beer. Sitting there on the tailgate of his truck, he'd watched Mike Milliano put up an entire lower floor of a house by himself in less time than it took a crew of four. Impressive, but why work that hard, especially now, well after five o'clock, after the rest of the crew had gone home? Mike Milliano stepped off the foundation and walked toward Smitty's truck. There was something different about him, but Smitty wasn't sure what. He looked... well, he looked BIGGER than normal. Heavier. He looked like he'd packed on about ten pounds of muscle since lunch. The thought was so stupid that Smitty put it out of his head. "I don't know what the fuck it is," Mike said, unconsciously adjusting his balls. "I mean, I feel fuckin' great!" Smitty tossed him a beer from the cooler which he caught with a casual ease. He DID look bigger. His arms hadn't been that dense, had they? Mike Milliano popped the top of his beer and took a healthy swig. When he brought the can down, he studied his foreman, as if he debated telling Smitty some heavy shit. "Do you think I look bigger?" he asked, flexing his muscles to illustrate. "I think I've gotten bigger, Smitty." Smitty grunted again. "I was just thinkin' the same thing," he said. "It's weird," Mike continued, rubbing his free hand over his torso. "I don't know why, but it's like, all afternoon I could FEEL myself growing, getting stronger, gaining energy. I can't describe it -- it just feels so fuckin' great!" "What do you think caused it?" Smitty asked. "Have you come into contact with anything unusual?" Mike Milliano paused. Literally, he stopped feeling himself mid-stroke. The look on his face was confused, contemplative -- which was not an often-used adjective to describe Mike Milliano. "You know, come to think of it," he said, "I did." He touched his fingers to his mustache, pinching his lip. Smitty leaned forward. "What?" Mike Milliano was broken from his thought. He looked at Smitty and smiled. "You'll never believe it if I just tell you," he said, suddenly walking toward the forest behind the building project. "C'mon, I'll show ya!" Smitty snorted a laugh, but followed, not forgetting to take an extra beer with him. ***************************************************************************************************** "It looks like a big cock." Mike Milliano laughed. "That's what I thought." He squatted down on one side of the flower -- Smitty did the same on the other. "And the way that root there is exposed?" Mike continued, pointing it out. "It looks like the thing's balls." The two of them laughed together, in that juvenile humor kind of way that men share. Smitty took a swig of beer. "So, what's that got to do with you lookin' bigger?" Mike Milliano was quiet, but intense, like he was exposing his secret -- like he was confessing a great sin. He even leaned in toward Smitty, as if someone were eavesdropping in the middle of the forest -- as if the flower could hear them. "Buddy," he said, "I think I'm having a reaction to this thing's pollen." "What?" "Seriously, man," Mike continued, rubbing his hands together. "I was lookin' at this plant at lunch today, and it spit all this pollen in my face. I think this," he said, flexing his left biceps, "is what happened because of it." Smitty snorted. "That's crazy, man." "Maybe," Mike Milliano muttered. "But you asked me if I'd come in contact with anything unusual, and this is the only thing. Look, there's one way to find out for sure. You sniff it." "What?" "Sniff it," Mike said. "If it happens to you, then we know it's the plant. If not, then it's somethin' else -- but I think it's the plant. It's gotta be. So, sniff it. What's the worst that could happen? This?" He flexed his upper-body in a quick Most-Muscular shot -- he HAD gotten bigger. Maybe even bigger in the fifteen minutes since Smitty'd first noticed it. "It feels fuckin' great, Smitty." Smitty rolled his eyes. "This is stupid," he said, but it didn't stop him from leaning in to smell the flower. On the off-chance that Mike Milliano wasn't kidding, Smitty wanted to cover his bet. No man would mind havin' a build like that, especially if he didn't have to work for it. He put his face right up next to the flower's "cock-head" -- the fold of petal over the tip -- and breathed deeply. Nothing. The plant sat there, inanimate, unconcerned. If it could show less interest, Smitty couldn't imagine how. Worse, its fragrance was hardly pleasant. Frankly, it smelled like stale cum. "Okay," Smitty said, sitting up. "What's the joke?" Mike Milliano shook his head. "It's not a joke," he said earnestly. "I swear to you, man. I just leaned in like this..." Then, as Mike Milliano pushed his cap back and brought his head close to the blossom, the thing reacted. The flower seemed to shift toward him, as if it recognized him. Just as Smitty saw the movement, but before he could speak a warning, the flower shot a huge wad of dusty pollen right into Mike Milliano's face. "Mike!" But Mike Milliano's reaction was exactly the opposite of what Smitty was expecting. Instead of coughing and trying to expel the pollen, Mike Milliano was trying to get all of it inside -- he snorted the dust caked in his mustache, licked it off his upper lip and the fingers that he used for brushing. He was trying not to waste a bit. Smitty thought he looked like one of them heroin addicts handling their fix. What the fuck...? "Yes!" Mike Milliano shouted, standing, holding his arms out at his sides and flexing his back. "Oh, YES!" Smitty bent down at the plant. This time, when he leaned in close, the blossom seemed to turn away, as if it were snubbing him. When he looked back up, watching his crewman and buddy go from pose to pose, he realized -- with no small amount of homophobic horror -- that Mike Milliano had an erection. Smitty could see its outline plainly beneath Mike's tightening jeans. Obvious. When he flexed his abs, hands behind his head, Mike Milliano's eyes rolled back and his hips bucked uncontrollably. When he groaned, a growing wet spot appeared in the crotch of his jeans, proof of his orgasm. Mike Milliano smiled. "Oh, yeah," he purred, his voice relaxed. "Feels fuckin' great." He reached down and adjusted his package, touching the soaking stain in his pants. Mike Milliano didn't seem embarrassed at all. He just looked at Smitty, squatting there next to the plant, and kept on smiling. Ironically, it was the seams tearing open in Mike Milliano's jeans that broke the moment. "I better get the fuck home before I'm drivin' naked," he said, fingering the tear, studying it as if proud instead of amazed. The mass was becoming more and more evident in his thighs. He walked over to Smitty, adjusting his gait to accommodate his new size, and offered a hand. Smitty was speechless. There was now no denying that Mike Milliano had changed. Still in the same grungy baseball cap, but now his t-shirt was too tight, too form-fitting for even a guy in construction, showing a body normally produced through military obsession -- rock-solid abs and bulbous chest, round, wide deltoids and sloping traps. Listen, his pants were still tearing from the growth in his legs -- each step, each flex, opened them a little further -- the seams couldn't contain the mass. From Smitty's angle, squatting there looking up at Mike Milliano, there was no way to avoid seeing Mike's package, either. It seemed to Smitty that even THAT was growing -- a thought he would've considered ridiculous only a few minutes ago. How long before the fly gave out? Or before Mike Milliano spontaneously orgasmed again? The thought horrified Smitty. Mike Milliano's balls were the size of eggs. Even as Smitty reluctantly took the offered hand and allowed Mike Milliano to pull him to his feet, he briefly toyed with the idea of destroying the plant -- stamping it into the ground -- just a fleeting thought that he might be actually SAVING his friend from something, though he couldn't imagine what. Instead, he asked, his voice a little shaky, "Are you okay?" Mike Milliano hadn't released Smitty's hand after helping him up -- the moment was becoming uncomfortably long for two straight men -- then Mike Milliano put his free hand on Smitty's neck, intimate, like he was getting ready for a kiss. He had that look in his eye. "I'm sorry the plant doesn't like you," he said. "But I still do." He winked, then Mike Milliano released his grip and started to walk out of the forest, leaving Smitty standing there stunned, unable to move. Smitty said, "Mike?" and Milliano spun around, still smirking, clearly enjoying the affect he was having on poor Smitty. "Are you okay?" Smitty asked again slowly, a little more deliberately. Mike Milliano laughed, and flexed his upper-body, straining the already-burdened t-shirt. "Never been better," he said, and motioned with his head. "C'mon." Smitty tried not to look at Mike Milliano's thickening ass as he followed him out of the forest, but the sound of the tearing material kept drawing his focus. ********************************************************************************************************** Okay, he didn't have a great body -- he never had, not even at his peak -- and he wasn't particularly handsome, either. Frankly, he'd heard a few too many jokes about his hairline recently. As Smitty stood in front of his bathroom mirror, all he could see were faults and weaknesses. Why didn't the fucking flower want him? It didn't make any sense -- well, NONE of it made any sense -- but the idea that a plant could somehow be particular, that was ridiculous. That the flower would react to one person alone, the idea that the flower could know the difference between one person and the next was baffling. That it could make a guy more muscular was laughable in itself. But what did Smitty know about botany? He couldn't even keep a houseplant alive. He was content to simply drink his beer and watch his collection of adult video -- not that he found much comfort in either at the moment. He couldn't stop thinking about that damn plant! It'd SNUBBED him. How could that have been? As Smitty stared in the mirror after his shower, assessing his physical weaknesses for the millionth time, he began the comforting process of rationalization. Skipping ahead -- there's no need to bore anyone with Smitty's leaps of logic -- here's where he finally arrived: it wasn't that the plant didn't want him. No. What happened was, he'd sniffed the plant, or brought his head into proximity, whatever begins the process, and Mike Milliano just happened to have his face in the way when the plant expelled its pollen. If Smitty had just kept his head there a little longer, HE would've gotten the pollen. HE would've been the one growing more muscular. It wasn't that the plant was particular. No. Smitty just hadn't shown enough patience. What he needed was another chance. He needed to go alone, without Mike Milliano tagging along. He needed to give the plant the proper amount of time. A fair chance. For sure, if he sniffed the plant again, and waited long enough, he'd get the pollen. He'd get the growth. So then, at the first hint of light in the sky, Smitty headed toward the site. Purposely, he wore loose-fitting clothes -- he wanted to make sure his jeans stayed ON through his growth. Not like the way Mike Milliano's had exploded just as they'd reached Mike's truck, exposing his gross size and obscene new package. Worse, the way he seemed to revel in it -- Mike Milliano had hardly been shy about showing his erection when it'd happened. Maybe Smitty couldn't admit it outloud, but in truth, he was jealous. He couldn't believe how jealous he was. It kept him awake throughout the night -- it motivated him now. When he pulled into the building site, he was surprised to discover that he had a partial erection himself. The sky was pink, the forest a dark silhouette before it. Smitty impatiently smoked a cigarette as he waited for the sun to crest the horizon, to give him enough light to see. He didn't know these woods as well as Mike Milliano did -- he'd grown up in the next town over. Finally, Smitty flicked his butt to the ground and crushed it beneath his workboot. He could see well enough, certainly well enough to find a flower. He hiked into the woods the same way he and Mike Milliano had yesterday afternoon. He stayed to the path, even if it was a little dark. The shadows of the forest heightened the sense of mystery and excitement. Smitty couldn't believe the power of his erection. Because of the lack of light, he heard the scene before he saw it. It sounded like a man's low moan, like the approach of orgasm. What the hell...? Smitty was careful, hiding behind a great tree and taking a safe peek. The sun had risen enough to cast light into the small glade where the plant grew, so he could see all too easily. And what he saw horrified him. And because he could so easily see, the image was all too clear. Burned in his eyes, it would stay with him forever. There by the flower, naked but for workboots and baggy gym pants down around his ankles, knelt Mike Milliano. He was gigantic. Bigger than the bodybuilders in the magazines, more virile than the wrestlers on TV, Mike Milliano must've weighed three-hundred pounds, his musculature grown to unbelievable proportion, thick and heavy. But what stunned Smitty was what Mike Milliano was doing. He was kneeling before the plant, his massive legs on either side of it, with his cock buried deeply in the blossom. He wasn't fucking it -- that probably would've killed Smitty -- but it seemed like the plant was giving him head. It looked like Mike Milliano's cock fit perfectly in the foot-long, curving flower, and the moans coming from lips sounded like a man getting the best blow-job he'd ever had. His huge chest heaved. He rolled his head, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open, lost in apparent ecstasy. His muscles still grew, and he softly flexed them in turn, his pecs, his biceps, his wide, wide back. Smitty couldn't move -- couldn't react -- all he could do was watch, try to process what he was seeing. It was almost too much. He watched helplessly as Mike Milliano's tempo increased. But when Mike Milliano suddenly stood, holding his arms out to his sides and flexing his entire body, every single over-grown muscle at once, when Mike Milliano threw his head back and suddenly orgasmed, screaming, shooting rope after rope of cum from his huge foot-long cock, coating the forest floor, Smitty found the strength to run. He didn't stop until he was back in town, at the local diner, where, because of the look of absolute horror on his face, the withered old waitress Sharlene gave him a shot of whiskey from her personal stash below the counter. He had to have two more before he had the nerve to face going back. ******************************************************************************************************* Mike Milliano knew what he had to do -- the thing had a funny way of communicating with him, like with pictures and feelings -- images. He couldn't describe it -- he certainly couldn't understand it. But he didn't need to. All he had to do was protect it, not understand it. He adjusted the pouch of his boxer-briefs to give better support to his balls, pulled up his baggy gym-pants and headed back to his truck -- Home Depot would be open soon enough. Stepping over the wilted flower, flattened and dead, unnecessary, Mike Milliano left the forest. Some of the other workmen were arriving on the site as he drove away. He waved to them with a much more muscular arm than he'd had yesterday -- he'd be back, and they'd get a clearer understanding of what had happened to him. He hadn't slept last night, either. Between the muscle-growth and the spontaneous orgasms and the cocaine-like buzz that had flooded his entire being, Mike Milliano had no time for sleep. The buzz had kept him from being concerned -- instead, it had been more like an exciting, wild ride -- the fulfillment of an adolescent dream. A comic-book transformation turned real. He'd had no fear. Why should he? He'd continued to grow throughout the evening, able to feel himself thickening, gaining mass. Look at him! Thank God he'd found that flower! Around midnight, the growth-spurt slowed, and finally let off. By that time, he'd weighed over two-hundred fifty pounds, and if he'd been paunchy before, there was no evidence of bodyfat on him now. His abs were incredible, drawing the eye to his narrow hips, which in turn lead to his dominant package, his unbelievable cock, his huge balls. That'd been when he'd noticed the shape of his new semi-erect cock, the slope -- it had been exactly the same as the plant. As a matter of fact, his cock could probably slip perfectly inside the blossom... He couldn't stop thinking about the plant. As his buzz had faded, he'd thought about it more and more. "Third time's the charm," he'd thought, beginning his own process of rationalization. He hadn't felt the need to be any bigger -- not that he would mind -- but what he really wanted had been the fuckin' buzz the thing had given him. It had been so strong, it'd reminded him of the crash after doing too much coke -- the impossible desire for more. Finally, Mike Milliano hadn't been able to take it. At four o'clock in the morning, after endless posing and modeling and hand-jobs to pass the time, he threw on his baggy gym-pants and workboots, grabbed a flashlight, and left for the forest. The moon had offered a surprising amount of light, so Mike Milliano had found his way through the construction site easily, the frames of half-built houses rising like prehistoric skeletons in the dark. He'd parked a little way further down the road than normal -- he hadn't wanted anyone to see his truck if they'd driven by. He hadn't even used the flashlight until he was well into the forest -- he hadn't wanted anyone calling the police because they'd seen someone lurking around up here. That would've been an unnecessary complication. He'd found the flower effortlessly -- he hadn't even needed the flashlight -- he'd known exactly where to go. There, waiting for the pre-dawn light, the dew had already begun to form on its bud -- that huge and beautiful cock, as perfect as the one Mike Milliano now had. He'd walked toward it as if hypnotized, with a stupid grin on his face, a loving and adoring look in his eye, his gratitude as powerful as his erection. He'd left the flashlight on the ground, spotlighting the plant like the star of some Broadway show. On his hands and knees, Mike Milliano had opened his mouth wide and took the blossom in. He hadn't cared what it looked like, a grown man taking what looked like a cock in his mouth, because he hadn't wanted to miss a bit of pollen. He'd wanted the whole hit. If he'd looked like a fag doin' it, then he did. And the plant had responded. In time with Mike Milliano's breathing, it'd launched its pollen. Every bit had gone into his lungs -- the blow job-like position had been a good idea. A cock in his mouth had seemed surprisingly natural. If he'd thought the buzz was intense before, it'd been nothing compared to what he felt at that moment, when the growth had begun. The feeling of gaining mass -- of thickening -- had overwhelmed him. He'd sat up on his haunches, enjoying it. Looking down at the flower, and at his semi-erect dick hanging almost next to it, he'd realized that he WOULD fit exactly inside the blossom -- his dick had gotten that big. The idea had seemed so right that, before his buzz-addled brain could stop him, he'd instinctively followed it. He'd slipped his cock into the velvety softness of the plant. Mike Milliano had been right, his cock had fit perfectly. He could feel the flower's stamen tickle his piss-slit. He could feel it slip inside. He could feel it growing up into his cock -- into his balls -- but he'd shown no concern. It'd felt so fucking good. And then, it'd come into him -- the Symbiote, the creature itself, the whatever-it-was that had been living in the bulb. Mike Milliano had been able to feel it come up through his cock, slippery like a snake, and make its way down, settling in the base of his balls, curling around his nuts, somehow connecting to him. And he'd understood. Images -- feelings -- a history had unfolded in his mind. It'd shown an explosion, massive, on a planetary scale -- spores in ice, hurtling through space -- hibernation, a deep, long, empty sleep -- a hundred years, a thousand, immeasurable -- cold -- then, entering THIS planet's atmosphere, the re-awakening -- taking root, beginning to search for a host, a Protector. It had all come into Mike Milliano's mind in an instant -- the Symbiote had spoken to him. A defenseless creature, the Symbiote would find a host organism willing to serve as the its Protector, keeping the delicate Symbiote safe. In exchange, the Symbiote would advance the Protector to his genetic limit, maximizing his abilities, his strength, and his sexual potency as well. Mike Milliano had seen the trade-off as more than fair -- he'd been only too glad to accept the Symbiote completely -- and so they'd joined together. The Symbiote had given him the best orgasm of his life, then -- Mike Milliano shot his seed all over the forest floor. Hopefully, he thought, they thought together, it would take root. Now, in his truck driving to Home Depot, gently cupping his balls so the Symbiote would be more comfortable, Mike Milliano ran over the list of things he had to buy to give the Symbiote what it wanted. Mike Milliano knew that great rewards were coming. ********************************************************************************************************* Finally the sun was completely up, so Smitty couldn't put it off any longer. He was the foreman -- he HAD to go to work. Whatever he'd seen, whatever he'd thought he'd seen, it was only one man, and Smitty had a responsibility to the REST of the crew. It didn't stop him from calling the lead carpenter on his cell. No, Jonas hadn't seen Mike Milliano at all that morning, though some of the other guys said they'd seen him driving off earlier. Smitty said he was on his way and hung up, surprised at his level of relief. He'd wanted a better body, true, but what he'd seen in the forest that morning thoroughly horrified him -- and not just the homophobic part. He didn't want anything at that price. It took Smitty about fifteen minutes to drive to the site. He spent that time debating whether he was glad or not that the plant hadn't picked him in the first place. What had it done to Mike Milliano? And where had he gone? He parked his truck next to the trailer that served as their make-shift office -- the crew, at work on various buildings, waved or hollered "Morning!" -- everyone greeted the foreman. And everybody was busy -- they were working awfully hard this morning, Smitty noted -- someone must've seen him coming and gave the word. Nobody on this team busted their ass until the coffee was gone or the boss was present, and maybe not even then. Then he saw it, back by the edge of the forest, Mike Milliano's pickup, black and shining like new in the morning sunshine. Where was...? Smitty approached the truck cautiously, looking around the site -- the only movement were the men working. The only sound... "Smitty!" A deep, heavy bass. A voice he'd heard but never heard. Smitty turned around, as saw him coming out of the forest. It was Mike Milliano, for sure -- or it had been Mike Milliano once. Smitty had never seen a man as large, as muscular as the beast that walked toward him. Mike Milliano's face, yes, but heavier, the jaw so much wider -- he still wore that stupid baseball cap, which meant his head hadn't grown, but that was the only thing. His neck and traps were so swollen that he looked almost cartoony. Even in the baggy gympants, the size of his legs was obvious, as well as the size of his genitalia. Yet even with the difficulty of getting his thighs around each other, Mike Milliano moved with an athletic gait, like a warrior. He wore a sleeveless t-shirt that didn't begin to cover his abs, that could barely contain his mountainous pecs. And his arms -- good Lord God, his arms! Bowling balls for biceps, hocks of hams for forearms -- his hands, his thick fingers were filthy, as if he'd been digging in the dirt. Smitty hoarsely whispered, "Mike?" Milliano smiled, cupping his balls through the thin cotton material of his gympants. "And more," he said, his voice deep -- his neck was so big, no wonder it had dropped in pitch. "What's that thing done to you?" Mike Milliano went from pose to pose, displaying those ridiculous muscles. "Completed me," he said, again adjusting his package. "What do ya think, Smitty? We're fuckin' amazing, aren't we?" Smitty motioned to Mike Milliano's dirty hands. "What are you doing, Mike?" he asked. "What's going on?" Mike Milliano gestured for Smitty to come closer. "C'mere," he said, then sighed impatiently. "We're not gonna hurt ya, Smitty. We just wanna show ya." He cupped his balls one more time. "We promise." Smitty tentatively stepped toward the giant and his pickup truck. Mike Milliano brushed the excess dirt from his hands as he waited, then gestured for Smitty to look in the bed. Smitty sighed, and finally did. "Our seed took root," Mike Milliano said proudly. There, in the bed of the truck, were almost a dozen clay pots, each of them filled with a plant exactly like the one that Mike Milliano had shown him yesterday in the forest. "Oh my God," Smitty said, as the panic of realization started in the pit of his stomach. But before he could even really react, one of the plants -- not the one closest to him, he noticed, a strange detail to remember -- which he would, for the rest of his life -- one turned toward him, literally, as if taking aim, and then shot a load of dust and pollen that hit Smitty square in the face. No! "Yes!" shouted Mike Milliano. He would scream -- Smitty breathed in to scream -- but coated his throat with even more of the stuff. Oh, shit! Oh, shit! "We just want to re-populate," said Mike Milliano simply. "We're not gonna hurt anyone." Panicked, Smitty ran. And as he ran, he tried to wipe the shit off his unshaven face. But it proved impossible -- it was gritty. It stuck. Trying to get it off just got more of it in. Smitty went to the first person he could find: Jonas. The nearly-obese head carpenter was working on the foundation of House Six, the one nearest the forest. Smitty called to him. "Jonas!" Jonas turned, and Smitty's horror rose a notch. Jonas had the remnants of pollen in his thick black beard. He smiled, and licked a little more of it off his upper lip, from beneath his mustache. "Morning, Smitty!" he said amiably. "Hey, you wanted to know. Milliano got here about fifteen minutes ago, right after you called. But I see you've already found him." "Oh my God..." Jonas smiled again, unconsciously adjusting his balls beneath his overalls. "Yeah, I know," he said. "I'm really startin' to feel it now, Smitty. And Milliano's right. It's pretty fuckin' amazing!" Smitty almost cried. He ran from guy to guy, searched out the whole crew, all eight of them, but Mike Milliano had gotten them first. Every single one of them had been blasted by that damn pollen -- and not one of them seemed the slightest bit concerned. And the thing of it was, after about a half hour, Smitty wasn't concerned, either. As a matter of fact, by the end of the day, he was feeling so good that he was more than happy to take the potted plant home with him. He actually felt kind of protective of it. He let it ride in his lap to keep it safe.

THE PARAGON PORN QUARANTINE by absman420 “Congratulations, Domenic! You have successfully logged onto the Paragon Porn Employee Reference Site! Please take a moment to fill out your profile page, then we will pair your headset with your bluetooth connection. Please click HERE.” I do. It brings up a page for personal information, regular stuff: address, phone number, payroll forms, social security, the whole routine. I’ve filled out enough of this sort of thing through the years -- business is business, after all -- even in porn companies, you have to pay taxes, it seems. That I’ve even come this far is comical in itself. When my buddy Austin approached me at the gym, I thought he was kidding. I mean, I knew he was a “porn star” -- I guess I shouldn’t use sarcastic quotes there, he’s a legit star, not some guy who’s filmed a couple scenes and uses the title. In that world, Austin was a celebrity -- his name alone could sell millions of units of merch -- he won awards (there are awards!) -- and all the little twinks loved him. (And he loved them -- often.) We worked out at the same gym, we worked out at the same time, we had nearly identical physiques, but we weren’t partners. He preferred entertaining some different fan-obsessed boy daily and I preferred to train alone. 2020 was the year I turned forty and I’d just done my first official contest -- I’d placed second in “Masters” physique, so I was flying high on myself. I’d performed well on stage, mask and all, probably from having been an actor/dancer in my 20’s, and my stage-savvy helped me. And then Austin approached me in the gym and asked me if I’d be into doing some porn? What ego doesn’t need that stroke? I mean, I’d been an actor most of my life -- I knew how to work an audience -- and I’d always been curious about porn. Like… how do you motivate yourself? How do you fuck in front of a crew? Is there any intimacy or is it all business? Is there a script or can you improvise? What do you tell your mom? “Serious?” I asked Austin. “Yeah, sure, why not?” he said, adjusting his mask. “You got the bod for it. And I think you got the cock…” He glanced purposefully down at my crotch -- I adjusted myself self-consciously -- he smirked. It wasn’t the best cock, but it did okay. Was it a porn-star cock? Doubtful. “No one complains,” I said. He winked and said, “I sure wouldn’t.” I chuckled. “Tease,” I said. “You like the twinky boys.” He smiled professionally (seductively). “I like everybody.” I smiled -- the joke was easy but I didn’t take it. “Listen,” he said, “I’m exclusive with Paragon -- they’re great! Best house I’ve ever worked for. They really care about the talent, they provide opportunity for growth, investment, marketing and stuff to help you build your brand.” “That sounds... surprisingly great! I’ve heard that porn kind of chews guys up and spits them out.” He shrugged. “Some studios do,” he said. “It’s a shame. It’s a great way to make a living -- you just can’t let yourself get treated like shit.” I laughed. “You sound like a salesman, not an actor!” “I’m a testimonial. Four years ago, I was just a physique model trying to bust out of the pack on IG -- now I’m a freakin’ celebrity! And I owe it all to Paragon. And they’re looking for muscle tops right now, preferably mature, level-headed guys without sexual hang-ups. I thought of you right away.” I was genuinely flattered. “You did? Thank you,” I said. “I’ve always been curious about porn, honestly… as an actor, I mean. I know that sounds weird…” “No, not weird at all -- we’re not robots. It’s all about creativity -- dude, it’s fun. Give the guy a call and do the initial interview -- everything’s on facetime now… you know, cuz of the COVID, so it’s even easier. I mean, in my day, I had to strip naked and blow the guy…. Kidding, kidding!” He gave me a card -- I thanked him and we elbow-bumped. “Let me know how it goes,” he said, indicating the card. “My number’s on there -- shoot me a text.” “I will, thanks!” I pocketed the card and resumed my set -- he left with his pretty partner, no doubt to fuck. Maybe porn wouldn’t be so bad... ***************************************************************************** “Please select your Virtual Training Coordinator.” There are five different profile pictures to choose from, each a different type -- a lean black guy with mind-blowing abs; a twinky bottom with an impossible bubble butt; a professorial type, all nerdy and neat; a bad boy in his leathers. I pick the one most like me -- a middle-aged, well-muscled bearded guy with a slight roid-gut wearing workout tights that do nothing to hide his prodigious manhood. His blurb reads: “COACH ROD -- great for Jocks and Sports-Gear Fetishes. From straight guys who’ve never sucked a dick to muscle daddies looking to be young again, COACH ROD is for you.” I select “COACH ROD” and a download begins -- I have to give it permission -- finally a pop-up appears with what looks like a FaceTime window with the Coach, a CGI character that seems impressively complex. He’s sitting on the edge of a desk in a locker room/ office -- the place just exudes organized chaos. He picks up a whiteboard and writes on it, then holds it to the camera. “PUT ON THE HEADSET.” “Oh,” I say. I quickly slip the headset on my head and adjust the microphone while I say, “Got it.” “Great,” he replies, his AI voice smooth and rich -- a baritone. “Can you hear me okay? Do I sound clear?” “Yes, I hear you fine -- the volume’s okay.” “Great. Give me a second -- I’m downloading your profile information. We’ll finish filling out your paperwork together and we’ll let my algorithm get to know you a little better, then we’ll work our way through the employee training program. It’ll give us something to do during your two-week quarantine period, right?” “Sure,” I say -- dictating was better than typing anyday. “Seems like kind of a big set-up…” “...for a porn company?” Coach Rod finishes. “Yeah, maybe. I think you’ll find Paragon is the premier studio for a reason -- we treat our people well. Our performers aren’t just assets -- they’re family. It’s too easy in this business to find low self-esteem, drug abuse, burn out, a real use ‘em up and throw ‘em out mentality. Paragon doesn’t have that.” He pauses for just a second, holding up a finger in a “wait a minute” pose. “Okay, I’ve just finished downloading the results of your physical this morning and I’m going to put together a diet/ training program that will better address your needs. You’re in good shape, Dom -- especially for your age -- but you can be significantly better.” When I don’t respond, he looks up into the camera and says, “Problem?” I smile. “I guess I’m just blown away by this technology,” I say. He smiles and touches his muscular body. “Yeah, I’m pretty real, aren’t I? Listen, I’m just an instruction program -- I can be whatever you think you learn best from. Do you want me to change race? Age? Costume? More muscle? Big, shameless cock? Anything that’ll keep you focused. As I get to know you better, I’ll probably refine myself, both in looks and motivational approach, to get the best out of you. We want to launch a successful career for you with Paragon -- that’s always the goal.” “Thanks, Coach,” I say. He laughs. “See? You’re gonna do just fine. Now, let’s start with some basics. I’m gonna ask you a bunch of random questions to get to know you better. Answer honestly -- I’m not going to judge you -- I can’t, I’m just an algorithm right? -- but your truthfulness will matter, so don’t be embarrassed or ashamed, no matter how weird the answer might seem. Okay?” “Go ahead -- shoot!” “You’re gay, right? 100% gay/ 0% straight? Or is there some pussy love in you someplace?” “Well, I fucked my high school girlfriend -- does that count for something? Of course, that was decades ago and I haven’t been with a woman since. So, 100%, yeah.” Coach smiles -- it looks so real. “Top or Bottom?” “Top.” That smile again, as if he knows something. “Percentage?” “If I say a hundred, it doesn’t sound like you’ll believe me, but it pretty much is. I’ve bottomed a couple times but it’s never worked out well.” He hmphs -- a computer hmphs! “Is that because it hurt too much or because it didn’t feel natural?” “Both, I guess. And don’t tell me it’s cuz I haven’t met the right dick, because I assure you, I have! I’m just… not a bottom.” “Okay,” he says, matter of factly. “Being vers will get you more gigs, but maybe if you have other skills. Do you suck cock?” “Uh… yeah, sometimes.” “Do you like it?” “Yeah, it’s okay.” “Are you good?” “Uh… I think I’m okay.” He looks up from his notes into the camera. “Have you ever made a guy cum?” “From a blowjob? No.” “From lacking technique or desire?” “Jesus… these questions.” He smiles a tight smile. “Don’t evade. Answer it -- honestly.” I shake my head as if I’m searching for something to say. “Um… I don’t know.” He nods. “Fair enough. Would you like to watch a training video?” “Excuse me, what? A training video? Are you kidding?” “Of course. Why not? It’s a skill -- and skills can be learned. You learned to ride a bike, right?” “Yeah,” I say, trying to find some way of arguing it. “I guess. It just seems… I’ve never considered...?” A link pops up in a text window below him. “Click on the link,” he says. “We’ll make fun of the acting together afterward!” “Ok, what the hell? I got nothin’ better to do.” “Good man!” I click the link. ******************************************************************************************* You’re in a classroom -- no, it’s a movie set of a classroom -- it appears functional but it’s not real. The teacher sits on the edge of the desk, except he’s clearly not a teacher -- he’s too muscular and tan. Even in his short sleeve dress shirt, his neck ink and forearm tats give him away. Gruffly handsome, his hair and beard are the same shaggy buzz. As he leans against the front of the desk, you see his pants are unzipped and open, revealing his sizeable erection. Aside from you, there are two other boys in the shot. Both are young and handsome, a blond and a brunette in schoolboy uniforms. You are all three on your knees at the feet of the teacher, looking up at him. The brunette is sucking the teacher’s cock while you and the blond look on. You’re in a porn movie, you realize. That makes sense -- just follow the script. “Okay, that’s not bad,” the teacher says. “Work around the base of the glans a little more. Good, good. Like that, yes.” The brunette, confident, attempts to deep throat the “teacher’s” huge cock, but ends up choking and gagging. He backs off immediately, sitting back on his heels. “That’s okay,” the teacher says. “Your eyes are bigger than your throat. That’s why we’re here, to learn. Who’s next? Who wants to give it a try?” He waggles his hard dick. “You?” He looks at you, and you don’t need anything more of an invitation -- his cock is magnificent. (Well, all cocks are magnificent in your eyes -- cockslut!) -- so you shuffle on your knees into a more advantageous position for the camera and you get to work. The script calls for you to be hesitant at first, maybe intimidated -- it’s hard for you to play that when this cock is so clearly suckable -- but you’re an actor, so you do what the director tells you. The “teacher” develops a nice dollop of pre-cum at the tip of his dick as you play with his balls -- he told you right before filming that he’d heard how amazing your mouth was and how much he was looking forward to this scene -- looking into his eyes, you gently lap it off with the tip of your tongue, teasing the slit of his cock for more. Fuck, that’s good! Sweet and slick, it fires you up for more. You grip the base of his shaft with your left hand and begin to roll your tongue around his mushrooming head. “Yes,” he moans. “Very nice.” He begins “instructing” you -- that’s the point of this video, remember -- techniques to stimulate the glans, using the tongue to tickle the very spot where the ends of the glans merge, how to create just enough suction -- this is a swirl, this is a tease, this is how to stimulate the nerve endings -- you demonstrate as he discusses. The whole thing feels very sophomoric to you, you who’s born to suck cock, you who’s such a natural. Without waiting, you plunge deep, taking this spectacular cock into your throat, past your naturally suppressed gag-reflex. You hold your breath and constrict your throat slightly, letting his head run along the soft tissue of your throat. Your tongue is magic. He moans -- loudly. “Yes,” he says. “Very good -- you’re a natural.” You start bobbing your head in a rhythm that grips him, countering that by pulling on his balls. You can tell he’s close -- you’re connected -- it’s a gift you have -- so you decide instead of teasing him and passing him to the blond boy, you’re going to finish him off yourself, this beautiful man and his tasty cock. Who could blame you? You got into porn to show off your skills, after all -- show them! You deep-throat him again and you can actually feel his balls churn. Your mouth races his cum to the tip of his cock -- you pull your head away just in time to have him shoot two long white ropes across your face, then you take his cock back in your mouth and swallow the rest -- your reward. Your drug of choice. You continue sucking him, draining him until there’s no more to get -- what a hunger you have! Little slut. “What a mouth you have!” the teacher praised. “That’s the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten from a Freshman!” You smile, still gripping the base of his dick, and lovingly kiss the head, never breaking eye contact. “I wanna see what he does that’s so great,” the brunette says, standing and revealing his own erection. “Suck my dick!” “No!” complains the blond. “I want him to show me -- I haven’t gotten to do anything yet.” “Don’t worry, boys,” you say, taking one of their cocks in each hand. “I can do this all day!” You suck the knob on one, then switch to the other. They both taste good. “See, boys?” said the teacher, “that’s the kind of cockslut you should aspire to be! You just gotta love it…” And you do -- big cocks, little cocks, thick cocks, bent cocks, heavy cocks, knobby cocks, uncut cocks, hairy cocks, pierced cocks, leaky cocks, old cocks -- you love cocks! Not just having them in your mouth, but pleasing them, pleasuring them, getting them to cum in your mouth… This is an instructional video -- here’s how you get two guys off at the same time. Getting a guy to cum is powerful enough -- getting two guys at once shows you’re a master of technique and desire. When the blond and the brunette are simultaneously shooting their loads across your face, you know what a cockslut you are -- how much you truly love it. The teacher brings your cum-covered face in for a deep, loving kiss. You’re Teacher’s Pet. Fade Out -- End Scene ************************************************************************************************** I wake in the morning to the sun streaming in the window, pleasant and warm, even the cinderblock dorm rooms don’t seem so stark in this light. I’m excited to work out -- my quarantine gym time is from 8-10am, giving me a half hour to have some coffee and smoke a bowl before I have to head down. I do hate working out alone, but it’s way better than not working out at all. (If I had to go through a two-week quarantine with no gym, I think I’d go out of my mind!) As I sip and puff, I scan through my emails. There’s one from Coach Rod -- I’m tickled that my virtual trainer is reaching out to me virtually! (Stoner…) “Hey, Dom,” the email reads, “Check outside your door -- your meal-prep should’ve been delivered by now. I want to bump your training a notch and clean you up a bit before your big film debut! The meals are all labeled -- you’ll have six today -- you’ll see the consumption times on there, too! All good stuff -- I made it myself (haha). “Reply to this email to let me know it’s received and understood and I’ll see you at your Noon Training Session with me. In the meantime, enjoy the gym! Coach Rod.” This is so weird -- I respond so. Outside the door is a cooler with a stack of prepped meal containers. I bring it in the room and transfer the meals to my mini-fridge (but for the one I’m scheduled to eat) and then put the cooler back in the hallway. I continue to be surprised at the budget of Paragon -- this seems a long way to go just to film some pornography. Don’t people make that stuff on their iphones? Whatever -- I’ll enjoy the pampering when it’s offered. I could really use a cock. This quarantine has gotten me horny -- it’s been too long since I’ve had a cock in my mouth. (Hard to believe about a little cockslut like me! I can’t fucking WAIT to finally film and get some fucking relief!) I’d suck on a dildo, I want one in my mouth so bad, but I don’t own one. Fuck! Great time to be a top with an oral fixation. I eat my boring meal of egg-whites and oatmeal and then dress quickly for the gym, baggy shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. It’s a nice gym and I have an intense workout -- I think of all the people in quarantine without access to a gym -- I’m pumped and gently flexing in the mirrors when I notice someone in the pool on the other side of the glass wall. It’s the first time I’ve seen a live person in three days… ...and already I’m aching to suck his dick. He’s doing laps in the pool, lean and athletic, smooth and practiced. His back and arms are muscular and well-defined, strong but not big. I’m watching him swim back and forth and I’m gently touching myself. Shameful -- but I'm isolation-level horny, so it’s understandable. I watch him for a good five minutes before he finally finishes and pulls himself out of the water, his back to me. A scruffy-bearded redhead, wearing a neon green speedo, his ass is beyond spectacular. As he walks down the deck, he has to reach in his suit and adjust himself -- he’s not hurting in the front, either. What a beautiful, lithe body, not an ounce of fat on him! Is he a fellow actor? Dear God, let him be a fellow actor!!! As he disappears into the locker room, I bring myself back to reality. Damn, I’m horny -- I’m fucking hard watching a guy swim, wishing once again that I’d been on the swim team in high school. Anyway, enough regrets, time for my Training Session. ****************************************************************************** “How’d your workout go?” “Great! I must say, I was feeling kind of bad about having this incredible gym available while the rest of the country’s on lockdown.” The coach coaxes. “But…” “But then I get these great pumps and I get over it.” “You like showing off.” I laugh. “I’m not sure I’d make it a statement like that -- I mean, I like getting looked at. It took me a long time to get up the nerve to compete, though.” “But you’ve been an actor for years -- you’re comfortable on stage.” “Oh, I think that’s what helped my win, don’t get me wrong. But when you’re an actor, you’re playing a role. When you’re onstage in a tiny little poser in a bodybuilding, you’re you, as emotionally naked as you are physically -- it’s way different.” “Would you do it again?” “I don’t know. I mean, the dieting is hell and the shaving is endless… I mean, maybe. I don’t know.” Coach Rod smiles. “What if you had a really big dick that barely fit in your posers?” I laugh. “Everything’s a porn movie to you AI-generated training programs, isn’t it?” “And you evade answers by making jokes.” I think for a second -- how to phrase this? “What man wouldn’t?” I ask. “What man wouldn’t want a really big dick that barely fits in his posers?” “How big?” I laugh. “Porn-star big!” “That’s limited,” Coach Rod says. “Free associate. How big?” “I don’t know -- hyper-masculine, Tom-of-Finland big, ridiculous and seductive, impossible yet challenging, tempting but worrisome -- every teenage boy’s transformation-fantasy big! That’s what I mean. Or do you need numbers?” “No, no. You’ve given me plenty to work with. Let’s communicate with the medical staff and see what’s possible…” “Excuse me, what?” I sit up in my desk chair, nearly choking on my protein shake. “‘What’s possible?’ Did I hear you correctly? They can… do that?” Coach Rod laughs. “You’re asking that of an AI program.” “Which means?” “Which means they can do lots of stuff that used to not be possible.” “A porn company?” “A worldwide adult entertainment juggernaut with a reputation for incredible men with incredible abilities with which you’re entering an exclusive contract. They -- via me -- will drive you to be the best product you can be. Stick with it and I promise you’ll be very well taken care of. All you need to do is look good and fuck guys -- there are worse jobs.” “True...” “Do you have any idea how many men would kill for this opportunity? Do you know how lucky you are, to be entering off the street with no experience into this field at this level?” “I wonder if that’s what my high school guidance counselor would say?” He holds up a finger in a “wait a minute” gesture. “Your high school guidance counselor was Jonathan Witek -- he retired in 2018. By tracing his credit information, I see he has purchased Paragon’s online content for the last six years. He responds to movies about young twinks who turn the tables on and top their authority figures.” “Oh my God…” “With this in mind, we can surmise that he’d approve of your career choice. Perhaps he’ll even be a fan?” “This just gets weirder and weirder.” “Or better and better. Now, you’re scheduled to check in with the medic at 1pm -- you remember where that is, right?” (A facility map appears on the screen with an animated trail that leads from your dorm room to the medical center in the basement.) “I got it.” Coach reappears on screen and blows me a kiss. “Go get ‘em!” he says, smiling. “We’ll talk about doing a video when you get back.” “Okay -- peace.” The box goes blank -- Coach has “signed off”. ************************************************************************************ The medic is dressed in a blue Hazmat suit, which seems a little overboard for me -- his face is shielded and he’s masked beneath. I can only see his eyes, so I wouldn’t be able to identify him if I saw him naked. (I wonder what kind of dick he has?) He’s pleasant enough, but nowhere near the conversationalist my AI-generated Coach is. I try to engage him in conversation as he swabs my nose. “I think you scraped my brain,” I joke as he removes the swab. I can’t tell if he’s amused or not through his mask. “A lot of guys say that,” he responds. “I have to do it that hard.” I smile. “That’s what guys always say.” Nothing. I’m sitting in a chair that reminds me more of the dentist than a medic, but it’s comfortable. The medic sets up an IV for me, puts the needle in my forearm and tapes it in place. As he’s satisfied with the drip, he returns to my chart and reads it over. “Oh,” he says as he spots something he hadn’t seen before. “Says here you’re scheduled for some gential enhancements. Wanna get that started now?” I’m not sure how to take that information -- I’d barely mentioned it to Coach Rod a half an hour ago and here I am. “Sure,” I say, shrugging, not really believing him. “Why not? What have I got going on?” He goes to a cabinet and removes a device that’s connected to a bunch of tubes. It reminds me of a cock-pump, except it’s significantly larger, like it would hold everything. “You’re not wearing underwear, are you?” “Beneath my paper gown? What kind of porn star would I be?” I’m right, the whole of my genitals go inside the tube -- it really has a shape more like a swollen package, not just a cock -- lifting my paper examination gown, he begins sliding the pump on me without asking permission. It creates a seal around the base of my groin like a cock ring -- he then connects the hoses and power cords to a small USB port next to the examination chair. He pulls a pre-loaded syringe from a drawer and injects the contents into my IV. “This is gonna take about an hour or so to run the complete program,” he says in a way that sounds almost bored, like he’s done it a thousand times. “Would you like to watch a video?” “Oh, sure!” I say as he pulls out a VR-headset front he cabinet. “What you got?” He helps me put the headset on and insert the ear plugs. “You’ll like this,” he says as he presses a key on his pad. Just as the video starts, I can feel the suction begin on my groin. Oh damn, I think. This is gonna be good. ****************************************************************************************** You’re onstage at a bodybuilding contest -- no, it’s the set of a movie -- there’s no audience (they use cutaway shots and SFX for audience reactions), only a camera crew. You’re pumped and primed and crammed into your posers, the tiny pouch barely holds all of you, stretched as it is -- the root of your cock is plainly visible. You’re in the final posedown with the other men of your weight-class. The guy on your right is trouble, a big Russian with a back as wide as the Asian continent -- he’s blocky, though -- thick. He doesn’t have your natural aesthetic, your height. Or your huge package. You can’t help your genetics. When you were in high school, going through puberty, having a dick the size of yours made you feel self-conscious -- none of the other boys had dicks as big as yours. It made you feel a little freakish -- especially on the swim team! Perhaps because your balls were so oversized -- goose eggs at 14 -- you put on muscle easily. You started working with a coach and trainer because the owner of the gym saw your potential and you did your first contest at 19 -- you took the Open and the Teen Class! That posing would cause you to get hard was the challenge. Flexing would always get you hard. Your posing coach laughed it off at first -- “You get off on showing off!” he’d say, patting your shoulder as the two of you looked in the mirror and tried to ignore your rod. “You just can’t hide it as easy as some guys!” Even now, all these years later, flexing for others has the same effect on you -- it’s one of the reasons you stopped competing so much. Difficult enough to get past the “does he stuff his posers” memes online -- which secretly turn you on -- but as you got into the muscle worship scene (and started making some serious bank from it), you realized your flexing fetish got you bookings by the score! And sponsors (mostly underwear companies)! And now… movies! You and the big Russian with the acne-scarred back start the posedown. The third guy in the lineup -- the guy on your left -- he’s not even show-worthy, bulky, but with a thick, round ass that can’t be contained in his posers. So you start flexing for the “audience”, for each other, for yourself, and you feel your cock start to come to life, as it always does. Double-bis, to get attention, then you start flexing your legs. You shake your relaxed quad muscle then slap it and flex it hard at the same time, but this is just an excuse for the camera to get your growing cock in the shot and you know it. The big Russian plays along, jamming his leg up against yours and doing the same bit. You can see him checking you out -- his little dick gives him away. He runs his hands down the front of your flexed quad and he makes an “impressed” face. You flex your bicep and let him feel that, too. Meanwhile, your cock grows harder, already testing the limits of its spandex container. The other guy tries to jump in front and do some squat poses, low to the ground, aching for some camera time, some audience recognition. Both you and the Russian ignore him and turn around to do lat spreads. Going from that pose to back double-bi is what causes your cock to pop out of your trunks, the one thing you’ve always worried would happen in actual competition. It’s strangely liberating, letting it go, not able to stop it. You can still feel your balls contained by the strap, but your cock is free, bouncing up as you hold your pose -- when you turn around, the audience screams, -- or maybe you just hear that in your head (it’s a movie, isn’t it?). It doesn’t matter -- you continue your show, fluidly moving from pose to pose as your cock rises to full mast, its head just above your belly-button. The big Russian is hard as well, though his dick is contained in his strained posers. He faces you and, with a smirk on his face, begins punching your pecs. The other guy is on his knees, running his tongue up the grooves in your thigh, nuzzling your bull ball-sac. From your position, you can see his lower back tattoo -- above that magnificent ass -- of two powerful wings. The Russian is behind you, reaching around, running his hand down your cobbled abs, purposefully -- teasingly -- avoiding your huge cock. He pinches your nipples as you continue to flex. And that’s what makes you cum! You don’t even touch your cock -- your arms are up in a double-bis -- but you shoot a massive load anyway. So hard and far it hits the camera lens -- stripes of it coat the face of the guy on his knees and you can tell he’s loving it (and aching to get some of it in his hot hole). The big Russian is standing there pounding his cock. You flex a “Most Muscular” in his face and he shoots his load, which the other guy is more than eager to lap up. You and the Russian make out, feeling each other’s bodies as the other guy kneels there and shoots his load for the camera -- he doesn’t matter. Your cock is the star. ************************************************************************************* Another fantastic workout -- I’m gonna have to be careful or I’m gonna become a regular morning gym guy, even when my contract is up here. What am I now? Eight days into a fourteen day quarantine? Certainly no one could look at me and think me in any way unhealthy. My body is amazing! The training regime, the dietary control, and whatever they’re giving me supplementally in those IV’s is taking my physique to a whole different level. I look so good right now that I hate that no one is seeing me. I haven’t announced what I’m doing on IG yet, but I have put up some thirsty shots after my last few workouts. I’m getting a fuck-ton of hits, not to mention all the people trying to slide into my DM’s. I admit to feeling the slightest bit guilty about my gym access with everyone else on lockdown, so I don’t post videos of workouts like I’d like. For the sake of ease, I pretend I’m working out at home like everyone else. For my chest training today, I’m wearing a red stringer that scoops so low as to show off the entirety of my deep cleavage and a pair of spandex short-shorts, which barely -- BARELY -- cover my oversized package. It looks as though any second my gigantic cock is going to pop out, or flop out, or just wear the material down and tear out. I love being a tease with it -- I know what cockhounds guys are. (At least, I know what a cockhound I am -- and if I saw someone with a cock as hot as mine, I’d be all over him, too. I can’t blame them.) I’ve been dealing with it since being on the high school swim team, learning how to keep it in my Speedos. My gigantic cock -- my gorgeous, gigantic cock. And my swollen bull balls. That’s what got me here to Paragon, right? Austin saw me in my contest and thought, the way my package crammed my posers, I should be in porn! How right he is! Squeezing out the last few reps of cable crossovers, in the reflection of the mirror I can see the glass wall that separates the gym from the pool. I know he’s over there -- I’ve seen him doing laps in the corner of my eye -- that beautiful red-haired boy. So I waddle over to the glass wall and watch him swim. I can see myself in the reflection of the glass, so I practice posing -- my chest looks amazing! It doesn’t take more than a few poses for my dick to start to come to life. Whatever -- I fuckin’ love posing! As my erection starts to get obvious, the red-haired boy gets out of the pool. This time exiting on the side facing the glass wall, so I can see his front, which is just as spectacular as his back. He’s probably 5’10” 190 or so, rips so sharp his abs could cut someone. He wears a pair of black jammers so low on his tight hips that they expose his entire deeply grooved iliac furrow -- called the Adonis Belt -- and rest just above his cock, across his groomed pubis. Other than that and his scruffy beard, he’s completely hairless. Pulling himself up out of the pool, he doesn’t see me until he’s standing, shaking the water from his head. We make eye contact and he smiles an easy, genuine smile. Gorgeous. I smile back, knowing he’s seeing the erection he’s given me -- with my cock (in spandex) it’s a little more than obvious. I salute and wave -- he waves back. We can’t hear each other, so after a few awkward moments of staring, he points to his eyes, then points to me, then waves, heading off toward the locker room -- allowing me to see that ass again. Fuck that guy’s hot. Please, please, please, gods of pornography, let him be my scene-partner. Fucking six more days!!! ************************************************************************************************ Over the last few days, I’ve noticed that Coach Rod has gained some size, especially through his chest and traps (and some big, obvious nipples) -- he’s also dressed more provocatively lately, as if he’s purposefully exploiting my spandex fetish. He’s an AI program, I think. He’s clearly adapting to me -- right? “Coach,” I ask, “who picks what you’re wearing?” He smiles. “You can if you want. Click on this link…” (one appears in the text box) “...and you can pick specific items, or you can just tell me a genre or style and I can work from there. You respond best when I’m wearing spandex.” I laugh. “I know. Feel free to wear as many singlets or posers as you want.” “You got it!” “Tell me something,” I say as I act casual about getting my meal ready, “there’s a hot redhead who’s been swimming laps while I’m training. Do you know who that is?” Coach smiles -- if I didn’t know better, I’d say a knowing smile -- and he says, “Hold on -- let me check the schedule… oh, yeah! Eddie -- Eddie Ginger.” “Eddie GINGER…?” “His stage name. Which reminds me, we need to finalize YOUR stage name…” “Yeah, yeah. Tell me about Eddie Ginger instead.” Coach can’t stop smiling. “Do you like him?” “Of course I like him,” I say. “He’s fucking hot as fuck and I’m horny as a motherfucker! I’m so over this quarantine right now -- you have no idea! I swear to God I’m gonna stick my cock in the first hole I come across and pound on it like I’ve never fucked before!” “Then you’ll be happy to know Eddie’s your first scene partner.” I’m shocked. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask. “That beautiful boy? That beautiful, twenty-something boy is my first scene partner? Oh, fuck, look at this… my cock is already getting hard. I’m never gonna make five more days…” “Eddie’s a really nice guy -- and one of our top-sellers! He moves more units than the next three featured bottoms put together -- you’re very lucky, Dom. Working with him, you’re bound to get exposure.” “How did I win this golden ticket?” I ask. “I’ve always heard the porn industry chews ‘em up and spits ‘em out. As an actor, that’s what’s kept me AWAY from porn all these years! If I thought this were possible…” “Working your way up from the bottom is very hard,” Coach says. “That’s where there’s likely to be use and abuse -- guys who are desperate or addicted or lost -- very few make it out of that. Some are lucky -- they know the right people or they manage their online presence well enough -- but most blossom and die without rising to the level of Porn Star. In some ways, it’s just like Hollywood, right? And you? You got a feature film on a referral -- and that’s gonna piss so many people off. This guy appears out of nowhere and becomes a huge star -- it’s the American Porn Dream come true! It’s just perfect! If only we could finagle you into having been straight before we hired you… that’d be the Porn Hat Trick!” He laughs at his own joke -- how odd that AI can entertain itself. I shrug. “Sorry,” I say. “Can’t help it -- I like cock too much.” “Especially your own!” I laugh with my usual confidence. “Of course -- you know what I’m packing! And you know I love showing it off! You should’ve seen me in the locker rooms in high school -- stupid straight boys standing there with their jaws agape as I wagged my cock out of my Speedo. Do you have any idea how many teenage circle-jerk cock-worshipping scenes I started? Paragon should’ve filmed those!” “Speaking of which, shall we work on a masturbation video today? The one you did yesterday -- the one where you were standing there spinning your cock around like a tassel? -- the producers LOVED that!” “They did?” I ask excitedly. “They saw it? I thought we were just playing around?” Coach Rod was matter-of-fact. “It was good,” he said. “Part of my programming is to alert the producers to content that stands out. Especially from the newbies. They’ve invested a lot in you -- there’s no harm in showing them their money’s not wasted.” I shrug. “I suppose not. I just… I wasn’t being serious.” “That’s what they liked about it -- it had personality. It was obvious how much you enjoy your cock -- that came across very clearly. So let’s make another. I think we should do a seated one this time, so we can really focus on it. What do you think?” “I’m totally in,” I say, flopping down in the chair in front of the camera. “When do we start?” ************************************************************************************** As the video opens, you’re sitting back in a chair -- the camera is at a high angle, looking down, probably not a laptop -- you barely fit in frame, the focus is so tight, your muscles are so pumped. You wear a black baseball cap and a tan-colored thong that could easily be mistaken for nothing if seen out of the side of someone’s eye at the beach. You prefer thongs to jocks -- hung as you are, you prefer the freedom of a thong rather than the tight compression of a jockstrap. You’ll wear whatever the client wants, of course, but you prefer the aesthetic of a thong if given a choice. As you sit back in the chair, you give the audience a chance to appreciate your body, your size, your cuts, your ridiculous abs and obliques. The angle in which you sit, leaning back like this keeps your abs flexed without any effort at all -- you reach your arms above your head and stretch -- so seductive. You know the audience’s eyes are sliding down your torso and focusing on your insane dick -- you’ve done that move before. You flex your pecs, bouncing them slowly back and forth while staring at the camera -- your expression says “come get ‘em” -- but when you play with your bare, pink nipples, pinching them just slightly, your cock comes to life. That’s what everyone’s here to see, anyway -- heck, you’re just the co-star and you know it -- so you allow your cock to grow, quickly filling the confines of the lycra pouch. Keeping one hand on your nipple, you allow the other to trace down the heavy grooves of your abs -- the look on your face, amazed at your own development -- until your fingers land on the top edge of your smooth pubis, slipping along the band of your thong, which itself barely covers the root of your cock. A cock that keeps hardening, seeking escape. Palm down, you slip your fingers under the band of your thong, two on one side of your cock, two on the other, and you waggle the pouch back and forth, slipping the front down the lengthening shaft. Your cock seems to inflate as it’s exposed, like yeast in dough, until the only thing keeping it from springing out to its full glory is the head, still trapped in the pouch of the thong. You put your arms back behind your head, again flexing your impossible abs and weaving your hips back and forth, which makes your trapped cock’s struggle obvious as it aches for freedom. The look on your face seems to expect the viewer to jump through the screen and do just that -- set that beautiful cock loose! Finally, the material loses the battle and your cock pops out, arcs up and over, and slaps loudly on your tight abs, just above your navel, thick and full and near fully erect -- your balls are still in the pouch, so you pull the band down with one hand, pull your goose-eggs out with the other, and let the band slip behind them, the elastic helping to elevate and keep them in frame (for their fans)! You play with your nips again, which causes your cock to thrash about, seeking attention -- it’s nearly twelve inches long, coke-can thick, gorgeous and intimidating at the same time. A pearl white dollop of pre-cum forms at the tip -- you push your cock to the camera, offering it to the audience, then you bend down and actually lick it off yourself. You can put your own cock in your mouth! You start jacking it then, showing us how one hand can barely reach around the root of the thing. It takes both: one to stroke the upper cock, to encompass the head, and the other to work the thick root. It’s a technique you’ve mastered through the years and it’s somewhat hypnotic to watch, the same way a snake charmer tames a cobra. You’ve been jerking this bad boy off for an audience since the locker room on the high school swim team, getting off on the cheering when you’d cum, much less the endless college frat parties where you discovered real big-dick energy, where you learned a cock like you had could get you what you wanted. All you had to do was know how to use it. And you learned how to use it. Happily, it’s never made you cynical, or contemptuous -- you love cock too much. And even if everyone isn’t as lucky as you, a cock is a thing of beauty -- and they all deserve a little love -- big cocks, little cocks, thick cocks, bent cocks, heavy cocks, knobby cocks, uncut cocks, hairy cocks, pierced cocks, leaky cocks, old cocks. And now your cock, the grandest of them all, which is about to shoot. If their volume is up, they can hear the change in your breathing, as your body tries to get enough oxygen to power this explosion. Just as you’re about to shoot, you pull your hands away, revealing the magnificence of your fully erect unit, and the audience can see your balls churn just before two huge ropes of cum blow out of your cock, leaving streaks across your face. You get your mouth open for the third one, catching a great lot of it on your tongue -- you roll your eyes as if you’ve tasted meade. With your right hand, you slowly stroke the base again, allowing the burbling lava that is your cum to continue to spew from the head, coating itself in its own volume, running down the grooves of your abs to gather via the cum gutters of your adonis belt. Once again, you look in the camera, as if the audience is challenging you, and you lean over and flat tongue the tip of your cock, licking an ice cream cone’s amount of cum and swallowing in bliss. You wipe the rest off with the two fingers of your right hand, kiss those fingers, then use them to flash a peace-sign to the audience. The video fades out. ***************************************************************************************** Finally, I wake on the day my quarantine ends! The heavy focus on training and diet have me in incredible condition -- especially for a guy who’s forty -- I look amazing, better than when I’d competed! I’m not as tan as I’d like to be, but my cuts are totally visible and obvious, so I’m not stressed. On the bed, I’ve spread out a bunch of posers and jocks and a couple singlets -- I don’t know what the director’s going to want for the shoot today, so I figure I’ll bring options. Maybe Coach’ll have an opinion -- an AI opinion.... I open my laptop and Coach’s window pops up. He’s a monster now, a freak -- his muscles are so swollen, his body would be barely functional if it existed in real life. Still, he’s managed to squeeze that bulk into the barest of singlets -- an old-school 80’s low-cut, revealing nearly everything. He’s also a redhead, but I choose to ignore that. “Good morning, Dom!” he says with a smile, adjusting his substantial package. “You must be excited to shoot today!” “I am!” I say, mirroring him. “I’m trying to decide what I’ll bring to wear.” “I wouldn’t worry,” he says. “I’m pretty sure for most of it, you’ll be naked.” I smile indulgently. “I gotta start somewhere.” “This is casual -- jeans and a loose t-shirt. This is a ‘buddy-shoot’ -- they’re just testing for chemistry, experience, awareness. It’s not a ‘scene’ -- that usually has a script, or an intent. This is just two guys getting to know each other. It’s easy!” “Easy for you to say,” I say. “I’m horny as fuck. I’m liable to blow the minute we shake hands!” “I doubt it,” he says confidently. “You’ll remember your training.” “So what if I suck or something -- what if I can’t cum or I’m terrible? Will they ship me out? After all this?” He laughs indulgently. “That won’t happen. Believe me, you’re ready. I’ve had two weeks with you -- normally, I get one long Saturday to do it all. The quarantine has been great for us in that regard. You’re here in our bubble for the next six weeks to shoot a shit-ton of content. After that, we’ll reevaluate your contract and go from there -- to be transparent, most of our models choose to stay here in the bubble and continue to shoot. I mean, why not? Unlike the rest of California, you get access to a gym during lockdown.” I chuckle. “That would piss a lot of people off.” He pinches his nipple. “All the more reason.” Ultimately, we settle on my blue posers (just cuz I don’t like the look of my cock down the leg of my pants -- too obvious) under jeans. I prefer a big bulge. On top, I wear a loose, scoop-neck t-shirt, which does display my cleavage, but whatever. My scruff is trimmed and my pump is obvious as I proceed to the studio in the basement. We’re filming in studio 2B, one of the smaller, more “intimate” studios -- I can see a gym set and a dungeon set as I walk along -- I’m so excited! As I enter, there are three people already present -- it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen live people, even longer since I’ve seen people without masks within six feet of each other -- the cameraman is obvious as he tinkers with equipment, setting lights, and running cables. He looks to be about my age, though in nowhere near as good condition, wearing a backwards baseball cap. The other two are talking quietly together. One is the gorgeous redhead from the pool, now wearing jeans and a tank top, and the other is who I assume is the Director. He’s a handsome man in his mid-thirties, slightly stout but not chubby in his tight black jeans and his loose flowered top. When I enter, they both turn and see me -- smiles break out on their faces. “Big Daddy!” the guy I assume is the director says. “You found us!” I smile -- I was loving my stage name: Big Daddy Domenic -- or Big Daddy Dom. (C’mon -- that’s damn funny. And isn’t porn built on puns?) “Yeah,” I laugh. “I followed the breadcrumbs.” The redhead smirks and adds, “No surprise -- they were coated with pheromones.” We all laugh together -- I’m instantly at ease, even if I’m crushing harder than ever. “I’m Michael McFly,” the Director says, extending his hand to shake. (“Why wouldn’t the director have a stupid stage name in porn like everyone else?” I think, shaking it.) “I’m so excited to be talking to human beings!” I say, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “For the last few weeks, I’ve just been spying on people through glass walls.” The redhead laughs, knowing I mean the joke for him. “And this is Eddie Ginger,” the Director says, indicating what I already knew. I hold out my hand to Eddie and instead of shaking it, he hugs me, a warm and genuine gesture. He’s firm but gentle and he smells of clean soap and freshness -- my cock plumps immediately -- I know he can feel it. “Nice to finally meet,” he says quietly in my ear. “I’m excited to film with you.” “So am I,” I whisper back, inadvertently pressing my package against him. “Obviously.” He laughs and slaps my ass as he steps back. “We’re gonna have fun, Dom,” he says, smiling. “It won’t even feel like your first time.” The Director McFly jumps in. “You’re not nervous?” he asks me, gripping my arm around the tricep. “There’s no need for that -- Eddie’s a pro!” “No, no,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “I’m excited, not nervous. Excited.” McFly glanced at my package. “So we see,” he says, flicking his eyebrows. I may’ve reddened, a little embarrassed, but Eddie seems to find that adorable! Aside from the camera equipment, there’s only a sectional sofa with a daybed, flat and clean and decorated with a few throws. The walls are industrial gray and bare -- nothing to pull the eye -- but the lights are warm, pink and soft. The Director has us sit on the sectional while he and the cameraman adjust lights and sound. Eddie makes small talk with me about my quarantine and how he finds it funny that we spied each other through the wall -- he says he went back to his room and jerked off. I’m starting to get hard again when the Director says, “All right, looks like we’re ready to get rolling. You guys ready?” “Yeah!” Eddie says excitedly. “Sure am!” I say, ready for anything. “All right, gentlemen, let’s have some fun -- and… ACTION!” And the moment he says “ACTION” I feel dizzy… something deep... ************************************************************************************************* You’re on the set of a porn movie -- there’s only a sectional sofa in frame. You share this sofa with an incredibly hot redhead, sleek and muscular, with cream-colored skin and the small remains of the tan freckles of his youth. He wears comfortable jeans and a red tank top with a unicorn printed on it -- you’re in jeans and a loose low-cut t-shirt, humble-bragging on your ample cleavage. DIRECTOR’S VOICE (off-camera): Hey, everybody! Welcome to another Paragon Porn First Timer Video. We have the always incredible Eddie Ginger with us today as our experienced model. Eddie waves to the camera. “Hi!” he says, smiling. “Been a hot minute since we’ve filmed.” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: And he’s joined today by our newbie, Big Daddy Dom, right? You laugh. “Yeah,” you say. “Domenic Luger. Just Dom is fine.” “Oh, but I like Big Daddy,” says Eddie, punching you in the arm. You smile at him. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: And Dom, this is your first time doing something like this? You look around nervously, glancing into the camera. “Yeah,” you say, with a bit of an enigmatic smile. “But I’m looking forward to it.” “Me, too!” Eddie chimes in, patting your knee. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: So you’ve never sucked a dick before? You act embarrassed. “No,” you lie. “I mean, guys have sucked mine -- guys have BEGGED to suck mine -- but I’ve never…” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: But you’re gonna try today? You look at Eddie enthusiastically -- VERY enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah,” you say, trying not to smile. “Looking forward to it.” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: Well, maybe you guys should do your first kiss. The two of you glance at each other like you approve the idea -- small, teasing smiles -- he slides across the sofa to be closer to you. You wrap your upstage hand around his neck and gently pull him in -- he allows this, already submitting to you. His lips are soft, gentle but confident -- his kiss is more tender than you expect, a little playful, too -- surprisingly intimate. You kiss lightly a few more times, then you finally go in for something a little more serious. Already you feel a connection. As you pull apart, you both mumble “Wow!” and then laugh -- he falls into your arms and you begin kissing a little more seriously. “Take this off,” you say, pulling his tank slightly. He strips it off, exposing his defined torso and his puffy pink nipples -- his abs are so cut and sweet, small little veins evident across his thin skin. “Damn,” you say, running your hand up along his strong core until it ends up cupping his pec and squeezing his nipple -- he gasps. “Look at you and your hot body…” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: Yeah, but Dom, show him YOUR abs! “But I just got off a show,” you say, raising your arms so Eddie could remove your shirt. “So it’s not completely fair…” “Holy shit,” Eddie says as he reveals your abs. “Holy shit -- you praise ME? Dude, LOOK at these abs -- eight pack?” You smirk. “Very early in the morning, before I’ve eaten, yes.” He removes the shirt and you flex for him (which always turns you on.) You bounce your pecs, which makes him flat-palm your chest -- he’s smiling a gleeful grin, clearly enjoying himself touching you. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: You said you just came off a show? A bodybuilding contest? “Yeah,” you say, continuing to flex for Eddie. He’s feeling the peak of your bicep right now. “I compete in what’s called ‘Classic Bodybuilding’ -- we don’t go as big as the freaks.” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: You look very big. “Everything’s very big,” you tease, winking obviously. You indicate your jeans to Eddie. “Help me get these things off.” You both stand, you and Eddie kissing as he unbuttons the waist and fly of your jeans. You keep your hands behind your head and your abs flexed as he opens the waist, revealing the blue poser you’re wearing beneath. “Sexy,” he says, gently pulling the waistband of the posers, then getting back to work on the jeans. He has a hard time getting them down over your thighs -- and you don’t help him by keeping them flexed so he has to struggle. You love to tease. “Damn,” he says, smiling. “You weren’t kidding everything’s big!” “Big thighs is why I’m a bodybuilder, not a physique competitor. Pull ‘em like you mean it!” His tugging makes your package flop around, which you love. Finally, he gets them down to your ankles and you step out of them -- he remains kneeling. “Holy shit,” Eddie says, eye-level with your pouch. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: Do you have to have those specially made? You smirk, adjusting yourself. “Yeah, I can barely squeeze myself into the standard ones -- though I like trying! I worry that one day I’m gonna be onstage and pop right out.” Eddie strokes your thighs and gently grips your hamstrings as he nuzzles into your package. He then licks his tongue up your spandex-fighting cock until he gets to the root, itself barely covered by the waistband of the poser. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: That would make a good movie. Would you mind flexing for us? “Not at all,” you say, and you begin your routine. Flexing has always turned you on -- it’s your favorite part of the sport, certainly not the training! No, it’s listening to the audience screaming, seeing the disbelief and awe in their faces, the desire, the envy. Of course you get hard when you flex. And Eddie is right there, worshipping away, stroking and punching and feeling everything he can, imprinting it onto his fantasies. Facing him, you do an ab/thigh pose, so he can see your half-hard monster straining, yearning for escape. He takes the bait, gripping the waistband with both hands and slowly pulling it down, revealing the entirety of your beautiful cock. When the head pops out, it swings up and swats him on his fuzzy chin. He grins broadly and kisses the head, as you step out of your posers. “Oh, yeah,” Eddie mumbles as he takes it in his mouth -- or as much as he can, which is a surprising amount (more than half). He pulls back and spits to help lube it, then wraps a hand around the base to stroke while he sucks. He’s got a good mouth -- well, he should. (He’s a professional.) More, he’s not afraid of your balls, big as they are. He squeezes and strokes and gently pulls on them, accenting the pleasure he gives to your cock. Adding to your enjoyment, you begin to pinch your ample nipples. You expected to lose track of the camera, to forget it’s there and just focus on your technique. But it’s just the opposite, you’re very aware of the camera -- it’s like you’re showing off for it, opening up angles for better views, making love to it. You know the camera loves your flexed abs as you lean slightly back to make a better picture, the swollen cum-gutters taking the focus right to your magnificent cock, which Eddie slaves away on. He’s got you on the edge and he knows it -- you can see the glint in this eye -- but it’s way too early to cum, horny as you are. No, you want a taste of him first. As he pulls off your cock to catch his breath, you pull him up into a kiss. He wraps his arms around your neck, allowing you both hands free to open his pants. Turning his back to the camera, you slide your hands down over the cakes of his ass and bring his jeans with them, giving a clear shot of his spectacular bubble butt. Spinning him around, you seat him on the sectional and pull his jeans off him -- he leans back, straightening his legs and flexing his own fine abs. He’s got a beautiful cock, uncut, maybe eight-and-a-half inches, pretty pink head -- he leaks precum. You kneel between his legs and kiss him deeply -- it’s hard for him to resist the urge to wrap his legs around your torso, but he does make a show of embracing you with them, gorgeous muscular limbs. You bite his fuzzy little chin, then kiss his neck, working your way down his beautiful body, his pale skin and bright pink nipples (which you make a show of working), then you’re licking HIS abs, defined and obvious, even if not as developed as your own. Finally, you’re at the trimmed little patch of auburn pubes and you can feel his hard cock stroking your cheek as you kiss the base of it. As an actor, you’d like to continue the charade of having never sucked a cock before, but your own internal horniness casts that aside quickly. You’re on his cock like a whore on crack, the sweet taste of precum your drug of choice. It’s no small cock -- Eddie’s a porn-star, remember -- and whether a bottom or not, it’s a nice piece. You’ve been dying for a cock, much less a nice cock, much less THIS fantasy cock for a while now! You’re conflicted about taking your time and savoring the moment or just banging out a desperate load then going for the slow cook on the second. But then you remember teasing the camera is your job, so you make a show of it. It’s possible that Eddie’s that good an actor, but his reactions seem very real, as if he’s legitimately turned on by what you’re doing. You’ve no reason to doubt it -- you are. Fuck, you’re so turned on, living this fantasy cum true, that you never want to step out of your filming bubble. You’ll stay here forever fucking hot guys for fun and profit. (You already want a scene with Austin to thank him.) And then you’re just deep-throating him and going to town, bobbing your head effortlessly on his beautiful dick -- how happy you are to have a cock in your mouth again! The sheer joy of that drowns out any thought of pacing for the camera or making the moment last -- you’re too eager to make this beauty cum! For his part, Eddie moans and rolls his head. He’s up on his elbows, leaning back, so he can look down across his flexed abs at your effort -- he’s supposed to be the “experienced” guy, remember? “I’m gonna shoot,” he moans, as you tug his balls. “Oh, Big Daddy, I’m gonna shoot!” You pull your mouth off his cock, still stroking the base, just in time for him to orgasm, the first volley hitting you right on your tongue. You deep-throat him and he screams, thrusting into your mouth. You flat-tongue his big dick, showing the camera how much cum he produced, and just swallow it all. “Oh, fuck, Big Daddy,” he mumbles. “Oh, fuck…” You advance onto the sectional and kiss him, sharing his taste. Then, in a semi-push-up position, you continue to slide up his body, until he’s face to face with your monster cock. He takes the head of yours in his mouth and you begin doing push-ups, slowly dipping your cock into his mouth, then rising back up. The camera loves your muscular back. You sit back onto his torso, putting his arms under your knees in a wrestling school-boy pin. The tip of your erect cock rests on his chin -- he only has to slightly lift his head to get it in his mouth, which he does. “You want it, pretty boy?” you ask, tapping the head of your cock on his lush pink lips. “You want Daddy’s big load?” “Yes,” he answers, trying to lick your cock with the tip of his tongue. “Please, gimme it! Please!” It takes little more than a few tugs and you can feel your big balls churn. “Here you go, Eddie,” you say as you release your cock and flex a double-bis just as you begin your orgasm. Your first shot crosses his entire face, but he gets his mouth open for the second one. But you don’t stop -- it’s been too long. You just keep shooting and shooting, volleys that just coat the redhead’s pretty face. You’re panting as your finish, releasing him from your hold. As he sits up, the two of you kiss, your cum running down his face -- you snowball it back and forth, as you wipe the rest of him clean with your hand. The two of you are laughing about the amount. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: A-a-a-a-and CUT! The moment he says “CUT”, you feel dizzy… something deep… ******************************************************************************************************* Eddie and I are standing in each other’s arms, soaked in cum, giggling like schoolgirls. Someone throws us towels and we begin wiping each other down. (It’s a lot of cum!) The Director is still talking to us. It’s clearly a Post Show -- the camera’s still rolling. “That was great you guys!” he says. Eddie laughs, wiping his face. “Dude shoots some big loads!” he says. I shrug. “I do everything big!” I laugh. Eddie is playing for the camera -- he points to your cock and brings his hand to the side of his face in an “astonishment” pose. In the same spirit,I spin him around and show the camera his perky bubble butt, smacking it with my open palm. He laughs. “All right, thank you guys,” the Director says. “Great shoot!” “It was a lot of fun,” Eddie says, playfully kissing me. “It was,” I agree, kissing him back and glancing at the camera. “That was just… easy. I could do it all fuckin’ day!” He chuckles. “Don’t say that too loud or they’ll make you!” He slides into his jeans. “I guess you’re coming out of quarantine, right?” “Yeah!” I say. “Finally…” “Well, then maybe I’ll see you at the gym and stuff?” I smile, sliding my jeans up over my ample quads. “I hope so!” I say enthusiastically. He strolls up to me seductively. “I’m sure of it,” he says. “I’m gonna put in to do a full-scene with you.” “What?” I ask. “Are you kidding? That would be fuckin’ AWESOME!” He indicates my bountiful cock as I tuck it into my jeans (I didn’t put the posers back on). “Big Daddy, I want to get fucked by that log -- it’s fuckin’ hot as fuck.” “Anytime.” He smirks. “How about a shower scene right now on my OnlyFans page?” “Let’s go!” ************************************************************************************************ Outside the bubble, the virus continues to run unchecked, gyms are still closed, lockdowns still enforced, Americans still feeling like masks infringe their freedom -- it’s just unbelievable. Naturally, desperate to stave off boredom, people are seeking content, entertainment, anything to fill the time. And nothing fills time better than porn. Most of the major entertainment companies set up their own production bubbles, but Paragon was far-and-away better prepared than their major competitors, creating what the industry has been calling Paragon’s “Porn World” where all the biggest names live and film as if it were still the Before Time. My first six weeks are up today and I’m hoping my contract will get renewed. I’ve been filming almost daily, mixing and matching with the other studs in the bubble -- it’s honestly been some of the best times of my life, professionally. Well, socially, too -- I’ve made some good friends and fuck-buddies. I open my laptop to see Coach’s Tab blinking. I open it and link up with the program. “Good morning, Dom!” “Morning, Coach! What’s the word?” “Your number’s are great!” he said. “They’re offering you a contract extension. Would you like to pull another twelve weeks?” I don’t even have to think about it. “Hell. Yes.” I love this job so much -- seriously, they can use me until I’m dried up and dead. I don’t care. “Great!” he says. “I’ll forward the contract to your email and we can get it done. There’s a couple of perks we can talk about, but it’s an improvement over what you were getting. Of course, they’d like you to start performing private services for clients…” “Private services?” I ask, suspiciously. “I don’t know, Coach. It’s one thing to be a porn star, it’s another to be a whore.” He laughs indulgently. “It’s not being a whore,” he says. “Here, let me show you a video…”

Here's the third (and final?) part of the Maximus Protein saga. Hope you enjoy. "WHAT THE FUCK" yelled Travis, causing me to turn and fall out of Dan's lap in alarm. "I GO TO TAKE A NAP AND YOU GUYS JUST DRINK MY PROTEIN? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT SHIT COST?" Travis was livid, red face behind his wire-framed glasses, messy hair sticking up. Standing there in just his loose plaid boxers and a wifebeater shirt, he looked almost comically small. Travis was a couple inches taller than me, sure, and he had a decent frame, but he had always been more on the skinny-fat side and now that Dan was a behemoth who was currently taking up half the living room, he seemed incredibly small. "I can explain, Travis" I said apologetically, getting up and realizing I was completely naked and still semi-hard in front of my roommate, which would have been a mortifying situation on any other day. But not today. Before I could say any more, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach and dooubled over, falling to my knees. "Gah! What is this?" I gasped. Dan's rumbling laugh behind me: "It's hap-pe-ning!" he said in a sing-song tone, snickering at me as I started sweating anew, cowering on the floor. Travis stomped out of the room, fists clenched at his side and muttering to himself. I didn't see where he went, I was too focused on whatever was happening to my own body. "What is this?" I gasped to Dan. "Put two and two together, runt." He said in his now-extra-bassy voice. "I drank the Maximus and then I drank your cum, you drank the Maximus, and then uh, took my cum..." "I'm gonna grow." I said, stating it out loud and barely believing it. I don't know why it didn't occur to me that it would happen. I still couldn't believe what happened to Dan. This all felt like some dream that was out of control. But I had had dreams like this before. I wasn't dreaming the burning feeling in my gut, or the sweat racing down my back, or the shaking in my limbs. This was no dream, but I was about to lose control. "Don't sweat it man" Dan said from the couch. He had a huge shit-eating grin on his face, and he was lazily fondling his junk again. He was enjoying this. "Trust me, runt, this (he slapped his huge, hairy muscly stomach, running his fingers over the ridges of his abs, smearing around some precum that had leaked) feels DAMN good." Blood was rushing in my ears, I felt like I could puke or pass out. I opened my mouth to respond to Dan but the only sound I managed was a low groan. "OOOuuuuuhhhh" I fell back into a kneeling position facing Dan on the couch. My suddenly hard erection slapped against my flat stomach and I had no choice but to start jerking it. Just then all the feelings of pain and nausea and burning coalesced into one feeling: I was horny as hell and ready to grow. My cock felt thicker in my hand, and I was working my arm higher up a longer shaft than I had had before. "Unh" I felt my knees spread outward involuntarily and noticed some mass in my quads that hadn't been there a second ago. "Ah" I took a sharp intake of breath as I felt my toes push across the carpet. Simultaneously my ass, which I'd always been proud of, was pushing on my heels. I readjusted my kneeling position without taking my hand off my prodigious dick and felt my balls roll and drop heavily between my legs. I stuck my hand down between my muscular quads (which were getting bigger by the second) and tugged at my balls. They were bigger, definitely. They were the size of limes in my hand, which also felt bigger. I pulled my hand up to look at it and flexed my fingers in front of me. I'd always had slender hands that I was ashamed of, but these looked like a man's hands, beautifully muscular and powerful. My wrists were thicker, and I noticed a shade of my copper red hair, which had always been to wispy to really notice, was now growing thickly on the backs of my hands. Then I couldn't ignore that my whole forearms were looking insanely thick and veiny. "Oh fuck!" I felt a spasm shake through me. This was hot as hell. I knew I had to see my chest, but I was almost afraid to look, afraid to see what I was becoming. I closed my eyes for a second, throwing my head back and breathing, enjoying the expanding sensation. I'd never felt this, but I knew it was all I'd ever wanted to feel. I bit my lip, feeling more stubble growing under my lip than had ever been there before. I was ready for this. I felt like a new man. I could feel my pecs heaving, my abs flexing involuntarily. It was time to become the size of man I wanted to be. "Uhhhhhh" I grunted, as I opened my eyes and adjusted to the immediate shock of everything in the room looking lower (and smaller) than when I had shut them just a minute ago. I looked down at my chest to see pure muscle, twitching and growing outwards, my pale skin flushing red as a luxurious spread of copper hair fanned outward from the gap between my pecs. "Oh holy fuck" I yelled, in a voice that was like mine, just deeper and hoarser. "look at these fucking pecs!" I barely had to turn my head to see the boulder delts that were growing on either side of me. I lifter my left arm up to flex and felt like I could have cum right then at the size of my fucking cannonball bicep surging up from my freakishly veiny, striated arm. That was my arm! I craned my neck to see past my pecs, and saw a dark treasure trail trickling straight down my tensing cobblestone abs to a thick bush. Sprouting out of it was what had to be 11-no 12! perfect inches of rock hard cock , capped off by a flaring cockhead, perfectly pink and juicy. "This is what I am now", I said to myself, barely believing it. "This is all me." I put both arms into a massive most muscular pose and roared like the beast I was. "Hot damn, runt!" I had almost forgotten Dan was there, I was so absorbed in my own growth. "Who are you calling runt!" I demanded, shocking myself at the power of my own voice. Dan just laughed his new, booming laugh. "I think I'm still the big dog around here" he said in a cocky way as he made each of his giant pecs bounce. I instantly jumped to my feet, and immediately was taken off guard by just how high I was off the ground now. I had to be nearing 7 feet. "Big dog? We"ll see who's the big dog! Get the fuck up Dan!" A momentary expression of surprise passed over Dan's face, immediately replaced by his handsome, cocky grin. He leaned forward and hoisted his bulk onto his feet. The couch seemed to groan in relief. He took his time standing up, but boy did he stand up. And up. And up. Fuck. He was probably 9 feet at full height now. He squared up against me, looking down his nose at me, exhaling loudly and puffing out his massive, hairy pecs. He had a neck like a bull, and all I wanted to do was put my hands around it again. "Well, runt" he growled, "You gonna do something?" I could barely keep from cumming right there on the spot, he looked so fucking sexy. I went for the only weakness I knew Dan had: his soft, pink nipples, which were now quite a bit larger than they had been , but still stood out from the dark hair on his heavy pecs like they wanted to be pinched. Before he could say another word I grabbed them with both of my strong hands, squeezing as tight as I could while Dan howled in pain and pleasure, and fell to his knees so hard that it made the whole house shake. I heard some dishes crash in the kitchen. "How's this, big dog" I sneered teasingly, trying to intimidate, even though Dan on his knees was only a little shorter than me. "Ahhhh sonofabitch!" Dan grunted. He was obviously enjoying this. "Ohhh fuck! Ah! Not so hard!" I clamped down, rubbing his nipples roughly between my huge thumbs and forefingers, pulling and twisting. Dan yelped in pain, but his red-hot erection, the size of a baseball bat,, and sticking straight up out of his briefs (how was he still wearing those briefs?) told me he was enjoying this. "Ok I'll do anything you want" He wheezed between short breaths, "just know that I'll do the same to you, twice as hard." Had Dan always been this much of a freak? Why hadn't we hooked up sooner? Maybe he had been sending me signals all along, but I hadn't picked up on them. I had always been pretty shy and lacking in self-confidence. But not anymore. That version of Scott had gone, and now there was a real life hulk where a skinny Bruce Banner had been. I was going to get what I want, and I what I wanted now was Dan. On all fours. "Get down, boy" I growled, surprised at the gravel in my own voice. Dan complied as I let go of his nipples, now swollen and red, and he looked up at me with a mixture of lust and playfulness. Here was the biggest man I'd ever seen, and he was waiting on me to tell him what to do. Suddenly I had an idea. Travis had bought this massive oak table when we had moved into the place, in order to fit the huge dining room that was just right next to the living room. I had mocked him for it at the time, cause we only ever ate dinner leaning against the kitchen counter or sitting on the couch, but he had insisted that it was his viking banquet table. "Dan," I said in the most commanding tone I could muster, "I want you to crawl to the table and lie facedown on it." A huge grin crept across Dan's face, and I had to force myself to stop from smiling too. "Now!" I shouted. Dan complied. The table was much tougher than the couch, and it was a truly massive slab of furniture, so even Dan's awesome bulk fit onto the top of it comfortably. He was lying face down on it lengthwise, and his feet were still dangling off of one end. I took the floor length curtains off the sliding door that let on to the back porch (no sense in privacy anymore) and used them to tie Dan's hands together under the table. It was amzing that his arms were long enough to reach over and under the sides of the six foot wide table, but there was just enough space between his hands to get a good tension. Without saying a word, I walked to the end, grabbed Dan's ankles, and brusquely yanked him toward me, sliding him down the table until his legs were hanging off the end and his giant size ass was sticking out at perfect waist height for me. I took some more curtains off the rod (taking a moment to bend the curtain rod in my meaty hands like a paperclip) and used the curtains to lash each of Dan's gargantuan thighs to one of the equally sturdy table legs. "That oughtta hold you" I grunted. Dan laughed a bit, which earned him a violent slap on the ass. Speaking of Dan's ass, how were his briefs still intacted. The man had practically quadrupled in size this afternoon and still they were stretched across his has, full of tears and see-through thin, but still on him. Not anymore. I knelt down and grabbed at the back of the briefs, shredding them easily in my hands. "HEY! Those were my lucky undies!" Dan shouted. "Well I'd say theyve gotten you pretty lucky" I teased as I grapped the elastic strap and pulled it until it snapped off. "Do you feel lucky?" I said as I spread his huge cheeks to reveal a thicket of hair surrounding his pink, quivering asshole. I spat on it and gave it a lick, inhaling deeply and getting light-headed from the intoxicating man-musk that was steaming off of him. "Well do you?" I asked again, but I didn't wait for an answer before I stuck my face in, slobbering all over his hole, kissing it, drooling on it, working it over with my strong tongue. Dan moaned loudly and writhed against me, flexing his glutes to squeeze my head, grunting animalistically and whimpering as I worked away on his hole. Without warning I stuck two fingers in, then three, working my thick digits around inside his shockingly warm and soft hole.Dan only moaned louder and shoved his hips back toward me. "Is this your first time, big man Dan?" I asked lovingly as I stood up, readying myself to plunge into him. Dan turned his head to try to look at me from his prone position. "Maybe" he said. Bastard. I lubed up my footlong tool with some of the pre that had been leaking from the head and plunged it into his hole without pausing until I was all the way in. "OOOOH! UNNH! FUCK YES" Dan bellowed, and shoved his hips back into me. I started to pump away, shocked at how easily he took my massive tool. Was I big enough to really fuck him I momentarily wondered, and almost immediately I felt the swelling, heaving feeling again. I felt my dick expand wider and lengthen by another couple inches inside of Dan, causing him to squeal. I felt my arms and pecs get thicker, shaking with each pump as I plowed into Dan's ass. I guess the cum that Dan had filled me with was still working. Maybe Maximus Protein continued to work as it digested? I didn't have time to ponder the intricacies of growth effects while enjoying them at the same time, I was getting bigger as I fucked Dan! My arms put on considerable size, looking like two columns of muscle. Where my hands had only been able to paw at Dan's back before, now I could actually get a decent grip around his waist. I squeezed both sides of his hips, adjusted my stance wider to account for my thicker, longer, tree-trunk legs, and began to jackhammer into Dan with my 15, no 16 inch rod. "OH FUCK! FUCK YEAH BIG DOG! GIMME ALL YOU GOT!" Dan was lost in bliss, bucking back against me, shaking the whole table with our motion. I was grunting animalistically, losing all control of my thoughts. I wanted to fuck Dan on this table all night, and I would. Sweat was pooling under us, and I could hear the sound of Dan's huge dick slapping the bottom of the table with each thrust that I put into him. I readjusted my grip, reaching across the expanse of Dan's back and grabbing around his thick warm bull neck with both of my huge paws. I pulled his neck roughly towards me, squeezing my fingers against his windpipe, but it neck muscles with too thick to let me cause him any harm. I pushed his head into the table, grinding his sweaty forehead against the wood. Dan's almost incoherent with pleasure, I could feel his drool spilling down his thick beard and over my fingers, pooling on the table as he drew sharp, ragged breaths. Just then there was a low groan and a faint rumbling sound from Dan. I felt my grip on his neck loosen slightly, but I hadn't relaxed it. "Dan what's... unh.. are you...... aggh.... growing more?" Dan only laughed hoarsely, dumb hanging out of his mouth in an idiot grin of pleasure. I forgot he had drank all my cum from when he fucked me. That had to have some effect. The only thing I could do was keep fucking him, watching in amazement as his head and shoulders crept slowly up the surface of the table, his lats inching wider, arms flexing and pulling at the curtains that were tying his wrists together. I could hear the fabric starting to tear as his thighs pulsed and bulged bigger, straining against the inadequate bonds I had tied him with. I had better hurry up and cum before Dan tore free and had the upper hand on me again. Or should I wait? It had already been a couple hours since I had grown. The huge load that was currently weighing down my grapefruit-sized testicles could surely wait a few more minutes. I wanted to see what would happen. Then I noticed a change in Dan's demeanor. He arched his back up, pulling away from the table and causing his mammoth back muscles to flare and bulge. "UNNNNH" he said. I pumped into him more, but I wasn't causing this sudden change in reaction. Then I realized that I couldn't hear Dan's dick slapping against the bottom of the table anymore. I all I heard was some wet licking sounds. "Wait, Scott" said Dan, out of breath between guttural moans of pleasure, "If you're the one, UNNH, fucking my-Huh, ass... MMMnnn.... then who....AAHhhh.... is sucking my cock?!?" I pulled out of Dan's ass and dove to the ground to see an unbelievable sight. Underneath the table, in a pool of sweat, drool, and precum, was Travis, my roommate, still in his boxers and wifbeater, flat on his back and wrapping his arms and legs around Dan's mammoth cock, hungrily lapping his tongue around the head and using his whole body to jerk him off. Dan's cock was as big as Travis' whole torso, and slick with precum, but Travis hung on for dear life as it twitched and bucked around . Suddenly there was a loud rip as Dan broke his hands loose of his shackles and he instantly grabbed Travis' body with his massive mitts and began to jerk himself off with Travis' body. "WHOEVER"S DOWN THERE.... UNNNGHHH..... BETTER HOLD ON TIGHT!!" Dan bellowed just as he released a torrent of cum straight in to Travis' face, blowing his glasses off his head and causing him to sputter and gurgle. "Dan let go you'll drown him!" I yelled but Dan couldn't hear me over his roaring grunts. I reached down to pull Travis out of Dan's grip when I realized Travis was still holding on to Dan's dick with all his might, and he was, well, he was actually managing to drink most of the cum that was flooding out of Dan's dick. He had his mouth wide open, gulping down spurt after endless spurt of giant seed. I was confused. Travis, my avowedly straight roommate, was guzzling cum that should have been going down my throat if anyone's. I didn't even have time to realize how jealous I was as I looked around the room at the excess cum pooling on the floor. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something on the floor in the kitchen doorway. It was the tub of MAXIMUS PROTEIN, lying on it's side, completely empty. Travis must have drank the whole container. I looked back at Travis under Dan's cock, finally having let go of it as the cum flood ebbed. He was gasping for air, covered in all manner of fluids, and there was a familiar rumbling sound coming from his stomach... To be continued?

This is a new story I’m starting that will be written as several blogposts documenting the muscle growth of a guy from a stick to a god. I will update it once every day or every other day, and it will include pictures. Hi, I’m Max and this is a new blog I have created to follow my muscular progress. I’m about to start taking this new supplement called Alpha Mix. (I’ve heard it’s been banned in most countries). I’ll be taking it every day before I work out in my high school’s weight room. I’m super pumped to see if it helps my muscle growth! Here goes nothing! Day 1: Well, as you can clearly see, I’m not a very muscular guy. I just started working out again last week, so I’m pretty new to this. Every time I’ve started working out, it seems like all the other guys in the weight room seem to laugh at my skinny little body, so I’m hoping to get at least a bit bigger with the help of this Alpha Mix. Speaking of Alpha Mix, today was the first day I tried it, and even though nothing has changed, I felt strangely confident all day, and my whole body felt almost like it was throbbing under my skin after the workout. That’s definitely never happened before. Anyway, I jerked off a bit when I got home later, and I noticed something strange. My cock felt a little odd the whole time, and then my cum was a bit oozier then normal. I just shrugged it off, though. It must just be a weird side affect of Alpha Mix.

Hey everyone! A quick couple chapters of a new story I've been working on. Everyone seems really stressed today so I thought I'd post a distraction of sorts for all of the growers out there. This chapter is mainly exposition, but there will be plenty of growth in the next chapter. Supersized Chapter 1: Experiments Max had graduated from college with a masters in biochemistry. He had been looking for a job for months and finally had made it far in the hiring process for a job at a stem cell laboratory that was leading the charge on fighting world hunger. For the last step in the hiring process, two candidates were meant to demonstrate to the board of directors their competency within biochemistry and how they will further the research of the laboratory. “Geez. I’m really nervous for this man. I can’t believe it’s come down to just the two of us,” said Max as he paced back and forth waiting for them to be called in. “Hey don’t worry man. I’m not surprised it ended up coming down to the two of us. We were both leagues ahead of our other classmates when we were in school,” said Ethan as he patted Max on the shoulder. Ethan and Max had gone to the same university for grad school and they were the brainiacs of the class. They had always gotten a kick out of the friendly competition they had between each other, but it was always in good fun for the furtherance of science. They became good friends and were happy that the respective other had made it so far in the interview process. “Ethan, Max, they’re ready for you,” said the receptionist as she poked her head out of the door. The two walked into a large room. There were two tables set up on opposite ends of the room and a table at the front where five people in lab coats were sitting and waiting for the two men to walk in. “Hello gentlemen. Congratulations on making it this far in the hiring process. We have looked at your accomplishments within academia, we’ve interviewed both of you and found that both of you are passionate about this field, now we would like to assess what you two have to offer this research group. We’ve set up your experiments as instructed by the two of you and have read your procedures. Mr. Burk you will be conducting your experiment first. Good luck and take it away when you’re ready,” said the scientist as she sat back down in her chair. Max walked up to the table and saw his experiment materials: five lab rats, a syringe, a beaker of a green liquid, a scale, a wire, and two double A batteries. “Hello distinguished members of the board. My name is Max Burk and today I will present you with my solution on curing world hunger. As you have read from my thesis, I have discovered a way to harness electrical energy and turn it into calories.” Max took out three lab rats from the cage. “This is Charlie, Delta, and Echo. Genetically identical lab rats. I administered my formula to Charlie and Delta one week ago today while Echo has not received the treatment. As you can see, Charlie and Delta are significantly larger than Echo. Charlie is 43% larger and Delta is 87% larger. The discrepancy in sizes are due to the diets we had them on. Echo is currently on a strict dry food diet. I fed him once daily and he has not increased in size at all in the past week. I placed Charlie on a strictly electric diet. I gave him access to 1.5 volts of electricity a day and as you can see, he has gained significant size. Delta’s diet was both an electric and caloric one. I fed him the same amount as Echo and gave him the same volts as Charlie. I’ve discovered through administering both treatments, the specimen will grow twice as much than when it was just the electric access.” “And just to prove that these results are true, allow me to give you a demonstration.” Max set the three lab rats back down in the cage and picked up a new one. “This is Foxtrot. He has not been exposed to the formula and is also genetically identical to the others. He currently weighs 403 grams and after I administer a dose of the formula and expose him to this simple double A battery, he should increase to approximately 420 grams.” Max grabbed the syringe on the table, extracted 10mL of formula from the beaker, and injected it into Foxtrot. The rat spasmed as the formula worked its way into his bloodstream. “To give you a description of what is happening, enzymes are being added to his digestion system that are able to accept electricity as a resource to be converted to energy. He is feeling a small bit of pain at the moment, but the process is brief.” As fast as it started, Foxtrot’s reaction stopped. Max picked up one of the batteries and connected the wire to it. He placed it in front of the lab rat and Foxtrot immediately went to observe it. He began to suck on the exposed part of the wire. Slowly but surely, the scientists in the room watched as the rat steadily increased in size as he continued to suck on the wire. Once Foxtrot had consumed all of the voltage stored in the battery, Max grabbed him and put him on the scale. “422 grams. In just one short session, the rat has gained 5% of its original size.” “This is clearly a phenomenal discovery that you’ve made Mr. Burk, but this is only a small dosage and it has gained a significant amount of size, what will happen when a user has gained enough size and can’t stop gaining size?” asked one of the scientists. “Excellent question Dr. Washington.” Max turned around and retrieved another lab rat from the cage. This rat was larger than both Delta and Echo. “This is Beta. I administered the formula to him 40 days ago. Watch what happens when he is exposed to the same amount of voltage as Foxtrot just was.” Max replaced the battery that Foxtrot had drained with a fresh one. He placed Beta in the cage with the exposed wire and he did the exact same thing as Foxtrot did. But he didn’t gain size like the previous rat. “The formula has now worn off within Beta so therefore he no longer converts the electricity into energy.” “Excellent job Mr. Burk. I do have a question as well. You’ve clearly used the NATO phonetic alphabet to name your rats. So I must ask, what happened to Alpha?” “He was the first rat to be administered the formula. Unlike the other lab rats, he had a larger dose of 50ccs. He grew much larger than the other rats much faster and he had to be terminated. But with your funding, I hope to be able to begin moving to human testing. Thank you.” The room clapped for him as he sat down in the chair next to Ethan. “You were really good. I don’t know how I’m ever going to top that,” said Ethan as Max sat back down. “I’m sure you’ll find some way to top me. Good luck.” “Mr. Rogers. If you’ll present us with your findings?” “Yes ma’am.” Ethan scurried his way to the table to find his own beaker with a red liquid inside, 5 lab rats, a miniature treadmill, a syringe, and a scale. “Ladies and gentlemen of the board, I’d like to present you with my growth hormone.” Ethan turned around and picked up a very large lab rat. It looked to be almost the size of a housecat. “This is specimen 6. I administered my growth formula to him 50 days ago and as you can see, he has grown approximately 600% bigger than his original size. This was not done with any other special food. He received the same food that this rat was fed.” Ethan pulled out a second lab rat that was normal sized. “This is specimen 7. He was given the same amount of food that specimen 6 was. However, specimen 6 did receive 25ccs of my growth hormone as well as an increased amount of exercise.” Ethan set specimen 6 back in the cage and grabbed a rat that was smaller than specimen 6, but bigger than specimen 7. “This is specimen 8. He was given the same amount of food and formula as specimen 6, but he did not receive an increase in exercise like specimen 6. I believe I have found a way for the muscle tissue to break down and rebuild itself sooner than the average specimen.” “Pardon me Mr. Rogers, but FDA will not approve of most steroids that are injected with an animal for purposes of growth. And it is not the best thing for PR at livestock farms.” “That is true Dr. Khan. However, my growth hormone meets the criteria of the FDA. It is nontoxic and does not affect the meat of the animal. And just like Mr. Burk, I’d like to demonstrate this formula so all of you can witness it firsthand.” Ethan picked up a new untouched lab rat. “This is specimen 9. He weighs 396 grams. Once I inject him with the hormone and put him on this treadmill, he will begin to show signs of muscle growth.” Ethan did just that. He took 25ccs of the hormone into the syringe, shot it into specimen 9, and placed him on the treadmill. The rat began scampering across the treadmill. The room anxiously anticipated the rat to grow with minimal results. After 10 minutes of the rat running on the treadmill, there was no visual growth that happened within the rat. Ethan took the rat off the treadmill and placed him on the scale. “Now you probably can’t see it like you could with Mr. Burk’s example, but there was muscle growth within specimen 9. He is currently 409 grams. My hormone is meant to be administered over a longer period of time. I hope to sell this product to the meat manufacturing industry in order to revolutionize how meat is sold and hopefully increase the meat supply.” “That is quite wonderful Mr. Rogers. If you both could leave the room while we make a final decision, but good work, both of you. Even if we do not hire you, each of you have a fulfilling career in the field of biochemistry,” said the head scientist. The two men quickly left the room as the scientists began discussing. “You were great man. That hormone will definitely be a game changer in the meat industry,” said Max as he patted Ethan on the back. “It will, but I messed up my presentation. I was hoping for my demonstration to yield more results like yours did. Your product even cancels the need for food all together. It’s truly incredible,” said Ethan to the smaller man. “Thanks. Hopefully, the research team agrees.” The two of them waited for what felt like an eternity until the receptionist came out again to get them. The pair walked in and stood in front of their respective experiments. “Gentlemen. Both of these experiments are amazing feats of science. But we only have the funding for one new study. So the individual who will be receiving funding is-” A man abruptly cut off the scientist as he barged into the room “Everyone, we must evacuate now! The substance in lab number 6 has become unstabl-” But the man didn’t get the chance to finish. There was an explosion that came from the room next to them. Everything in the room was blasted to the opposite room. Max hit the wall and heard glass break above his head. Liquid poured down his body as a support beam landed on him and knocked him unconscious. For more updates, story ideas, or general MG stuff, Follow my twitter: https://twitter.com/Musclesaber

Heya y'all! It's my first time actually posting anything on this site (that i can remember, at least) and the first time I try my hand at writing this kind of story. but since I read a lot of content from lots of authors both from here and from the previous website, I figured it was time to give a small fraction of it back. Fair warning; English isn't my mothertongue, so any mistakes are entirely mine! Without further ado, here's part one! I hope you'll enjoy it. Male Hunger Part one The humid air of his room had gotten warmer. Bran huffed and licked his lips, tasting the salty sweat racing down his head, hips rocking, his wide hands wildly jerking off his thick cock. He groaned lowly, racking a cum-covered palm through his short hair and started slapping his dick on his 6-pack, splashing precum everywhere. After a few beats, his heavy balls surged higher.. And Bran stopped, out of breath, hands off his penis, his body tensing, muscles flexing hard to keep himself from cumming. After a few long seconds, he brought a veiny hand to his mouth and licked the pre off his thick fingers, one after the other. The taste of pre and the weight of each rough fingers in his mouth had him shuddering so much his eyes closed. Bran roughly pinched his nips and grunted quite loudly as saliva filled his mouth. His other hand skimmed down his thick pecs, along the valleys of his abs, to finally grasp at his thick shaft. He fisted his dick and – the immediate, overwhelming pleasure had him gasping out and snorting air back in, nostrils wide, hips pumping- he distantly recognized the potent scent of his own musky sweat and semen, different, stronger than ever before – He needed more. “Fuuck…,” he growled out, kicking his muscled legs further apart. He needed just a bit more. His other hand left his fluid-covered pecs to tug at and massage his bloated balls, the sensations shooting up sparks up his body. They felt so good, so full, he threw his head back on his pillow; his pre-covered hair coating them. He rocked his hips harder, the sound of his bed hitting the wall getting louder. He distantly heard some of his dorm neighbors hit the wall back but he couldn’t find it in himself to give a single fuck; his attention solely focused on pleasuring his thick, weeping cock. “Fuck!,” he snarled, teeth bared, as release started sweeping through his body. He tensed ever more, both hands tight on his shaft now, tense, striated pecs protruding more and hiding the root of his dick. Not that it mattered; his eyes were focused on the way his cock thickened even more, despite the two fists holding it. Long moments passed, during which his heavy balls, usually hanging low, pulled up and sent its fiery magma up. Bran panted wildly, wide eyes almost rolling backwards, as the first load of semen burst out and arched up the wall behind him, almost splashing on the wall. Some of the thick magma dropped back down and landed on his face, in his mouth, in his hair and on his pecs. After a few tense seconds, as the thicker and warmer liquid and its unusually strong taste coated his taste-buds, a second explosion of semen went out. It did much the same as the first. The third was much the same. “Mmhhh… So good...,” Bran moaned lewdly, in a pleasure-filled haze, as his body alternated between tensing and releasing loads of thick cum over and over. He groaned some more at the ninth; the final shot, the rest of his release dribbling out thickly and utterly flooding his abs. Still in a daze, heart beating loudly in his ears, Bran stroked his heaving belly, sliding the thick white goo over his wide torso, up his neck, down to his pubes. He thoroughly coated his still-rock-hard penis and huge, heavy balls in the stuff. Then he scooped as much as he could and licked it up with one hand, the other dedicating itself to playing with his hard cock. After a while, Bran’s stomach cramped. He was quite hungry but couldn’t be bothered to move. But the sleepiness he expected after such a release didn’t come: he started feeling antsy, as though he had had too much caffeine. His cramping stomach decided him; he would eat something, maybe watch something mindless on the TV, and then he’d go back to bed. But as he got up, something felt off; but Bran shrugged the idea away. He did the same with the vague idea of putting on clothes; it was too much trouble, besides no one was there to care besides himself. And he felt quite warm; he was still sweating. The fact he used to care a lot more about not being buck-naked in the dorm, even in his room, a few weeks ago amused him distantly. His feet thudded and left perspiration on the floor as he left the cum-covered bed and wall behind him. He felt something warm hit his legs and snorted in amusement; his hard-on was still leaking. Feeling even hungrier, Bran headed straight to the small fridge and opened the door. The sudden light had him squinting -the sudden cold surprised him – as he bent his head to search for something good to eat. The cold felt good against his warm flesh and he shuddered in delight. He reached for a can of coke, rose back up, and drank it in a few big gulps. He drank another, and another after that. Then, stomach feeling less empty, but still needing fuel, he went back down and was about to take another can when he noticed something and huffed out a short laugh. “Fuckin’ hell,” he whispered. So focused he had been on filling his belly, he hadn’t really noticed that his still leaking hard-on had coated some stuff in pre. He smirked, shook his head and took out some leftover – spaghetti bolognese – to heat up while he turned on the light, searched for a fork and a big plate. After serving himself, he set himself in front of the TV and, before turning it on, he couldn’t help but checking himself out. His reflection showed him as he was; sitting on a slightly-too-small sofa, large arms bursting out off thickly muscled shoulders and traps rising high of his bull neck. Big legs spread wide, cock high and thick, still dripping, heavy balls low and resting on the sofa. His tight musclebound gut and the V-shape low on his hips partially hidden by his wide and 10 inches long cock, his tits hanging low on a decent pair of round pecs, biceps close to 17 inches and veins and striations both easy to see on his 6’3 frame… All of those were pretty good reasons for the deep satisfaction he felt at looking at himself, a smirk reflecting such masculine pride tugging at his lips. His cock pulsed heavily as pre made his abs glisten and- his stomach cramped: he took a big bite of his meal, burped loudly – the coke – huffed out a laugh, and, feeling a bit more satisfied but still quite ravenous, he demolished his meal. But before he knew it, he was back at the fridge, pulling out enough to make another, albeit bigger meal – he was that hungry. But a man his size needed to eat quite a lot to stay so big. He smiled. “’m damn glad Ian’s not back yet,” he snickered, “he’d freak if he saw me right now”. He slapped his belching cock absently, a meaner smirk on his lips. “Though I know how I’d shut him up, mmffhhh…”, Bran closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, imagination running wild, his cock pulsing harder. Bran then smiled and stole an under-cooked chicken breast from the frying pan, too hungry to wait any longer. He munched on it, muscled jaw breaking it down fast, and his strong neck moving as he swallowed, eyes glazing over in pleasure, drool dropping from his lips. Too busy eating, he didn’t notice the bigger veins appearing all over his studly body. He was too taken up by the need to fill his void-like belly. Meanwhile, the scent of his body, of male pleasure and exertion slowly but silently got stronger in the warm and humid air of his room.

Here's a story that I wrote a while ago, but I want to share it with you guys since I recently (re)discovered these forums I hope you'll enjoy it! --- Chapter one: Return to Cloville Henry was walking around the taxi parking area, looking for a cab to bring him to his hometown, Cloville. For some weird reason, however, it seemed very hard for him to find a driver to take him to the small rural town that he once called home. Being so close to his hometown made Henry think. It had been ages since he had last seen his hometown or his family for that matter. All it took was one fight, as Henry hit puberty. He hated his stepdad, and the hatred seemed to be mutual. At one point, all the pent up frustrations just exploded. Henry immediately regretted his little outburst, trying to make up for it. His stepfather was relentless, though, and he forced Henry to move out. He had family living on the other side of the country, so, fortunately, he could stay there. Years had gone by since then, he lost all contact with his family. Even his little brother, who turned 18 two months ago, wasn’t allowed to contact him. Henry had now finished his studies and was working at this big law firm in a big city. His life seemed to be pretty good until his brother called. His mom had passed away, and his father insisted on bringing the family back together. “You wouldn’t believe how much everything changed here” Andy, Henry’s brother said through the phone. “You’ll like dad now. I surely like him. There’s a new farm in town, and the veggies are amazing, we eat them as much as possible! Just come back as fast as possible, mom’s funeral is on Friday. See ya!” Henry put down his phone, surprised by how cheery his brother sounded. Was the bond between Andy and their mom worse than he thought? Even if the relationship between Andy and his mother was worse than Henry expected, why was the information about this farm and the vegetables so crucial in comparison to their mom’s funeral? Henry pulled up his nose, thinking about the vegetables. Since he was young, he always despised most vegetables. The only plant he liked was lettuce, but mostly he tried to stick to fruit to meet his vitamin intake. That night he found a ticket, and the next day he left to Cloville. --- “Hey boy, looking for a cab?” A very muscled man called out to Henry. “Erm, yes, sir! Thank you very much. I need to go to Cloville.”, Henry said, hoping this wouldn’t result in a new denial. “Oh, cool! I live there, and it’s the end of my shift so you can hop along for free!” The driver replied. Henry got into the taxi, together with the muscled man. Now that the driver was sitting in front of him, Henry could take some time to look at the man a bit more closely. The man’s back was wider than the chair he was sitting; his short build made him look a bit stocky. Like a big bodybuilder was squashed together. The muscles on his leg almost touched the steering wheel though. And was that an eggplant stuffed in the guy’s crotch area? As Henry was looking up, he noticed the eyes of the driver looking directly at him in the mirror. Henry quickly averted his eyes, looking at the floor under his feet. “So boy, why are you going to Cloville? Not a lot of tourists make their way up there, and you don’t look like you’ve been there recently.” The driver at least made an effort not to show he noticed Henry’s staring. “Well, I’m originally from the town. I’m just here to attempt my mother’s funeral. She passed away last week, and my stepdad hopes it’s a reason to bring the family back together again. Her funeral is tomorrow.” “Oh yeah, that’s why my son was back too! He arrived yesterday, unfortunately, one day too late for the funeral, so he missed that.” Then the driver’s voice went a bit softer, Henry focussed his ears and listened “Fuck do I hope the boy ate some veggies, I’m horny as hell.” Henry’s eyes widened in shock. Did he hear that correctly? He decided to ignore it since it was almost a whisper he must’ve heard it wrong. His brother’s focus on the veggies was still clinging to him properly. “Oh, a son? Maybe I know him, what’s his name?” Henry sat up a little. Even though it was ages ago, maybe he could meet up with some old acquaintances. “My son? Dylan! I guess he’s as old as you are, so pretty big chance you know him. What’s your name then kid?” Henry seriously started getting agitated by being called “kid” all the time. But he thought about a Dylan he knew. “Are you mister Sandhoff?” Henry asked, “because I used to be friends with a Dylan Sandhoff, we used to be friends when I still lived here. We met each other again when I went to university.” Dylan looked at the driver again. “No, this can’t be mister Sandhoff”, he thought. “Sandhoff used to be a very frail guy. Surely he couldn’t possibly have gotten this big in the past years. The man surely must’ve been a hard gainer.” “Mister Sandhoff in the flesh, kid. Pleased to meet a friend of my son, maybe you guys can go and eat some of the local veggies soon!” Mr Sandhoff said. “These stupid vegetables again”, Henry thought, and then he replied to mister Sandhoff. “Well, mister Sandhoff, both me and Dylan don’t really like a lot of vegetables. But we used to go out and have some beers though so we can do that again. I’ll send him a text when I get home! Didn’t know he was visiting too!” The cab slowly drove into Cloville, and Henry looked around the town. The city hall was still there, mister Sheffield’s store just at the corner of the main street. The small village looked exactly as Henry remembered. The streets were abandoned. “Well, guess even this town is shrinking”, Henry thought. “This must be it, kid.” Henry’s attention was pulled back to reality by the low grumble of his driver. “But sir, I never told you my name. How did you?” Henry looked surprised. “The secret of Cloville, boy. Now say hi to your family, so I can go have a look at my son. See ya soon!” Henry quickly got out of the taxi, got his suitcase from the back and walked up to his driveway. The house looked the same as Henry remembered it, possibly trapping all bad memories inside as well. Henry felt the nerves in his stomach. Then the front door opened, and Henry saw the face of Dave, his stepfather. Henry was only able to recognise the face, however. He remembered Dave to be quite chubby and rather short. The man now stood a good head taller than Henry. The most shocking change, however, was the body. Dave looked like an exact copy of Dylan’s dad. Dave’s pecs formed shelves under his incredible thick neck and broad shoulders. The shirt Dave was earing was so tight that a solid eight-pack could be seen under it. The shirt’s sleeves were filled with arms that must’ve been as big as Henry’s legs. Dave’s legs, filling a pair of khaki pants, looked like tree trunks. His upper legs looked like tree trunks, big enough to harbour a few animals if it would’ve been hollow. The calves looked like sharp, big diamonds. The only difference to mister Sandhoff was Dave’s ass. It was enormous, easily twice the size of the taxi driver. Almost like some sort of compensation, the bulge in front looked a bit smaller. Henry still wondered if there was something stuffed in the front of his stepdad’s pants, but at least this thing was slightly smaller. “Heey Henry, kiddo. Awesome to see you again! I have to bring a few veggies Frank and Davy, our new neighbours down the street. They moved here last week, cute couple! See ya soon, son, go meet up with your brother! Get ready in your room, it’s ready for your arrival. I’ll serve dinner soon.” In Dave’s voice, no signs were to be seen about their past fights or a single hint of mourning about the loss of his wife. And without waiting for a reply, Henry’s stepdad left the front garden. Henry walked inside and up to his room, or at least what he remembered of it. When he opened his door, he saw another muscled guy sitting on his bed. This one was younger, had blond hair and was wearing the same clothes as Dave had been wearing earlier. Before he could have a proper look at the guy, Henry slammed the door shut and called out for his brother. “Andy! There’s a random dude in my room. Andy?! Are you home?” Henry called out through the empty house. Stopping dead in his tracks when a reply came from behind his door. “Yes, little bro, I’m here! Don’t call out for me after you pretty much slammed the door in my face!”. A small chuckle was added to Andy’s reply. Henry opened the door again and was greeted by the same sight for the third time that day: broad shoulders, stuffed pants and big arms. Andy looked at his brother. “God, you look cute, and boy do we need to catch up. Too bad you’re one day too late for mum’s funeral! But just let me update you on what happened in Cloville since you left.” --- Davy looked at himself in the mirror. In the past week, his body had grown so much. His muscles had exploded. His ass and dick were gigantic. First came the growth in his muscles, a few days after his husband became a lawyer for Cloville’s newest farm and Frank’s muscles had come in. After the growth in Frank’s muscles, Davy noticed an increase in his husband’s sex drive. Shortly after that, his own sex drive followed. His horniness was through the roof, and the fucking sessions between the two husbands grew both in intensity and number. Davy looked at his body. His dick was slightly smaller than his husband’s, measuring around 30 centimetres. His arse had grown enormous, and even though he always used to be the top in the relationship, his new arse required filling, a lot of filling. So now his husband topped him every night, morning and multiple other times on the days that he was free from work. A small voice in the back of Davy’s head was saying that something was wrong; the vegetables they ate at night tasted terrific. The sex was great, but something was wrong. His husband started as a lawyer, but now he seemed like he was just a farmhand, helping with harvesting the variable vegetables. And for some reason, Davy thought that exactly those vegetables were to blame for it all. “Frank, we need to leave, I packed our backs. Let’s just get in the car and drive away from this crazy fucked up village. We’re not ourselves anymore, come on we have to leave.”Davy told his mirrored self the practised lines. He looked at his bright blue eyes and his dishevelled blonde hair. The light behind his eyes was getting weaker in a similar way as his husband’s eyes were now empty, brightly coloured, but the lights in his brain were off. Something was messing with their heads, and it had to end now. Taking a deep breath of air, Davy walked down the stairs to his husband, carrying the suitcases with him. “Frank, honey, we need to talk,” Davy said. “Can’t that wait a moment, dear? Dave, from down the street, is just here to bring us a few tomatoes. Do you want to taste a little piece?” Davy’s husband replied. Davy could see Dave’s eyes locking on his suitcase, raising an eyebrow. Of course, he didn’t want to raise suspicion; all the muscled guys in town seemed to work together sometimes. So Davy decided to grab a piece of tomato and taste it. The tomato tasted like any other vegetable from the farm, a familiar taste but mixed with a slightly bitter aftertaste. The more he ate the vegetables, the more he’d grown to like them. This tomato wasn’t an exception; it was delicious! Davy’s libido was rising, and he wanted Dave to leave so he could bounce on his husband’s dick again. He stopped for a second, wasn’t he supposed to resist this wish to fuck? Wasn’t he supposed to tell his husband they should leave as soon as possible? The voice in his head quieted down as soon as he saw his husband’s huge dick pulse in his pants. Dave noticed the change in the atmosphere. “Okay, guy’s I guess I’ll just let you discuss whatever Davy here wanted to discuss, see you guys later! I’ll see myself out.” Davy and Frank kept looking at each other, the tension rising. Then they heard Dave leaving the house, closing their front door. “So, you wanted to talk?” Frank said. “Erm yee, erm, erm.” Davy was lost for words as he saw that his husband slowly took his cock out of his pants. “Naww honey, you seem so confused, some bounce on my dick a little, your mind seems all fogged up.” Davy lost all control, tore off his pants and kneeled in front of the dick. He was just sucking it quickly to lube the cock. Just a few minutes later, his husband’s dick was buried deep inside his ass. The fucking was hard and animalistic like ever. The chair was creaking under the couple’s combined weight. Davy’s moans grew louder and louder, his husband rubbing his hair. Davy turned around towards a mirror Frank decided to hang up to watch their fuck sessions from other angles. He could see the light in his eyes dim down. “Oh honey I’m gonna cum”, Frank groaned shortly before unleashing a big stream of cum. Frank’s balls had grown together with his dick, they were the size of small oranges, hanging over the edge of his chair as Frank pumped his seed in his husband’s ass. As Davy felt his ass being filled, he came too. His balls were slightly bigger than they used to be, but he didn’t meet the amount of cum his husband produced just yet. The voice in the back of his head now told him he should eat his veggies so that he could grow more. “So,” Frank said, “you wanted to tell me something?” Davy looked surprised. What did he want to ask again? “Well, honey, I don’t remember. But let’s cook up those veggies, grow and fuck some more!”

While working on the next chapter of Next Level Love, I had a bit of a fun idea for a muscular pastiche/parody of one of my favorite novels. Given we’ve officially entered the spooky month I took it in a bit more of a Halloween monster B movie direction. I hope you enjoy it. ============================================ Disappearance on the Overland Limited ============================================ Cast of Characters The Detective Ted Ward – Private Investigator from Sacramento, California on business to Chicago The Muscle Mack Simmons – Former Army Ranger and Detective Ward’s faithful companion and bedfellow The Conductor Mr. Orville Hubbard – Conductor employed by the Southern Pacific to serve the Overland between San Francisco and Ogden The Valet Ollie Sorenson – A young valet aboard the Overland with secrets of his own The Farmer William “Billy” West – Newlywed husband from Green River who plays his emotions close to his chest. The Wife Lucille “Lucy” West – A beautiful young lady ready to live her happily ever after The Widower Nancy Halverson – A frequent traveler aboard the Overland whose nervous demeanor belies a buried past The Socialite Delilah Johnson – An heiress from New Orleans with a sharp tongue and deep pockets The Beast – The mysterious creature rumored to roam the Nevada desert ============================================ Part I: The Facts ============================================ ~October 1901~ It was one o’clock that afternoon in Sacramento. People milled about and paced along the platform of the Southern Pacific depot. There was a nip in the air; winter was coming early. Snow already capped the Sierra Nevada and all traffic had slowed to a crawl. On the tracks was a splendid sight. The proud Atlantic class locomotive hissed contentedly before the line of well-polished Pullmans. The Overland Limited may have already been five minutes late for departure waiting on the slow freight to arrive, but it was still the height of luxury travel west of the Mississippi. Created by a partnership of three railroads, the Overland Limited was the fastest train of its day from the San Francisco Bay to the Great Lakes. Standing on the steps of one Pullman was a man, a bit scruffy and weathered in appearance. He was decently built but more of a runner than a fighter. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he watched the clock, lost in his own thoughts. He only stirred when another man, this one barrel-chested and balding but with a fiery beard and moustache arrived. “Stationmaster said the snow on Donner Pass is fallin’ fast as they can clear it,” the brawler of a man grunted. “No way we’re getting’ to Chicago on time, Ted.” “More time for us to relax then, Mack.” Ted Ward grinned. “Besides, I figured a man of your caliber wouldn’t be so worried about a little snow. Who ever heard of a soldier complain about something children love?” Mack Simmons shook his head and pushed past his partner. “Cuba didn’t have any snow.” Ted laughed and followed his assistant into the car. This time of year combined with the cold snap meant fewer travelers. They had the only occupied Pullman sections in the car. The young valet quickly made a few final touches to the cleaning of the car. His fitted uniform made it clear he was rather slim, but he had an ample behind like a succulent peach. He turned and jumped. “Oh, I’m sorry! I thought I was alone!” He blushed, very apparent on his pale Scandinavian skin, and stashed away the rag. “My name is Oliver Sorenson, though everyone just calls me Ollie. I’ll be your valet up to Ogden. You must be Mr. Ward and Mr. Simmons.” Despite an attempt to be surreptitious, Ted caught the young man’s eyes carefully crawling over him and Mack. Before he could comment, the conductor strode in. “I hope you’re not bothering the guests, Ollie.” The conductor was a solid man in his late forties, salt and pepper starting to show in his moustache. He might not have been a barrel-chested many like Mack but years on the railroad had given him a strong build and the soft bulge in his trousers was very telling. “No trouble at all,” Mack chimed in, clasping a hand on Ollie’s shoulder, only making the valet blush harder. “Mr… uh?” “Orville Hubbard,” he replied. “And we’re likely to be an hour late into Reno with the snow, but we should make up the time between Winnemucca and Promontory. In the meantime, we will be serving complementary drinks in the dining car. Please enjoy yourselves and we’ll do what we can to get caught up.” He snapped his pocket watch shut as another whistle blew outside, and a manifest freight rumbled by. “Gentlemen, please excuse me, that’s our cue.” Ollie nodded. “I’d best make sure your bags have been loaded. Please let me know if you need anything!” As soon as the two were out of earshot, Mack whistled. “You didn’t mention the sights on the train were better than the scenery.” “Rein it in you horndog.” “Don’t act all high and mighty,” Mack said, grabbing the bulge in Ted’s slacks. “I know this ain’t your gun. You were thinkin’ the same thing.” “Guilty as charged,” Ted smirked, thumb pressing against the thick nub poking through Mack’s shirt. Mack bit back a little groan. “Now, I think we best calm down before we end up making a mess in the vestibule. Best not put on a show, eh?” Mack released him. “We’re finishin’ this later.” “Sure thing,” Ted replied, swatting Mack’s muscle ass and swinging the door open. As to be expected of the luxury train, the dining car was immaculately decorated with intricate wood carvings, etched glass, and even small crystal chandeliers. As Ted had noted, the train was very light this evening. “Oh dearie me, I thought we were all that was left aboard tonight.” A lady in her late-twenties put out her cigarette and approached them. She was dressed in the finest of eveningwear that seemed to be straight from 5th Avenue. She cocked her hip slightly. “Miss Delilah Johnson of the New Orleans Johnsons, how doooo you do?” “Ted Ward and Mack Simmons, ma’am. The pleasure is ours,” Ted replied politely taking her hand. She frowned, expecting a little more. “Well, yes. It is. I have to say I can’t believe this train is late again. My daddy invested a lot in this railroad, and I doubled our shares. I’d expect a little better. I’m a busy gal.” “You can’t pay the sun to move,” a man piped up. “Not yet,” she huffed and went back to her table. “Pay no attention to her,” the man said. “She’s been talking everyone’s ear off since we left Emeryville. I hope she didn’t bother you Lucy.” “Oh Billy, nothing’s ruining tonight,” the man’s wife said snuggling into his arms. She proudly showed off a shining ring to the two. “Congratulations!” Mack shouted. “A round for the new couple!” “Just coming back from our honeymoon actually,” Billy grinned. He was the definition of a cornfed country boy. His arms stretched his sleeves and Ted swore he could hear seams popping near his shoulders. His wide legs were clearly squeezed into his pants. “Headin’ home to Green River to start our new lives.” “We’ve got an adorable little homestead,” Lucy gushed, “but our parents gave us a little weekend out in Santa Cruz to ourselves.” By the way she beamed, Ted figured it must have been a very productive weekend. Of course, her hand slowly inching up Billy’s thigh was a good clue. She was dressed in a simple homespun outfit, but somehow made it elegant by the gleam in her eye and the dazzle in her laughter. Mack brought a few drinks from the bar when he almost collided with the last passenger. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I didn’t see you there.” “That’s alright. You remind me of my husband, dearie,” an elderly woman said, patting Mack’s hand. “Such a handsome strong man.” Mack floundered for a moment, unsure of what to say. “Oh dear, where are my manners. Nancy Halverson, a pleasure to meet you.” “The pleasure is ours Mrs. Halverson,” Ted said. “What two handsome men…” She said again, with a faraway look in her eyes. “You best be careful… you don’t know what could happen… that monster likes handsome men…” She wandered off, a little lost. “You understand a word of that?” Mack whispered. “She’s not playin’ with a full deck if you ask me.” “Perhaps not,” Ted replied. The train lurched into motion; the engine bellowing smoke as it began to climb out of Sacramento. The whistle cried as Mack set the drinks on the newlywed’s table. They toasted the happy couple and began the first of many drinks. Ted watched the city roll by but couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of unease. ============================================ A cry pierced the night, rousing him from his sleep. In a heartbeat, Ted was on his feet, hand on his Colt. He bolted down the coach knowing his companion was hot on his heels. He took only a brief moment to make sure his activities with Mack that night weren’t overly apparent. He threw open the vestibule, leapt the gap, and charged into the next car to find a group of people had already gathered around the Pullman section. “Please, keep calm and return to your beds. We will sort this matter out shortly,” Mr. Hubbard said, gently trying to ease the passengers away from the sobbing woman on the lower berth. “I’m sure we could be of service,” he said as he and Mack drew near. “I’d certainly appreciate it, gentlemen,” the conductor whispered, “and so would Mrs. West.” He motioned to the sobbing lady, revealing it to be Lucy. She clutched a handkerchief to her bosom, hiccupping through her wails. Ted caught a glimpse of Mrs. Halverson as the conductor sorted the other passengers away. He ignored her for now and knelt next to the sobbing bride. “Lucy, dear God, what happened?” It took several minutes for Lucy to gather herself. “Oh Mr. Ward, it’s awful! I can’t find Billy! He’s gone missing.” Ted shot a look over to Mack. “Lucy, perhaps Billy just went to, err, use the facilities or stretch his legs. We did have quite a bit to drink after all.” “No, no! I saw him! He was being taken away by,” she paused to blow her nose, “by the Beast!” She now broke down in a new wave of sobs. Ted scanned over the berth, but there was nothing strange. The sheets weren’t torn off the bed, just moved to the side as anyone would when getting out of bed. The only thing of note was a couple missing shirt buttons. Just then the conductor returned with some whiskey to help her calm her nerves. “We’ll do our best to find him, don’t worry.” Ted stood, knowing that it was best to let her rest for now. Suddenly he stopped. “Do you smell something Mack?” “No, should I?” “I thought I smelled something… almost like smoke.” “We’re on a train, boss.” Ted glowered at him. “Not like that, like cherry wood.” Ted and Mack headed back to their car with the conductor. “Do you think she’s delirious? It could’ve been some nightmare that woke her? Surely, you’ve found Mr. West?” The conductor shook his head. “I’m sorry but I haven’t. I directed the staff to search top to bottom. Mr. West is no longer on board.” Ted pursed his lips. “How’s our schedule looking?” “We’re behind, but so’s everything else on the line. All that snow back on the Sierras has everyone behind schedule. Even with Dispatch giving us priority, we should’ve been in Winnemucca hours ago.” “Have we passed anywhere that Mr. West may have jumped off?” “Doors have been locked tight ever since we snagged mail in Lovelace and we haven’t stopped once since then, only slow orders.” “Any chance of him jumping off between stations?” The conductor chortled. “Well, I suppose they could’ve but where would they go?” He waved his hand towards the window. “There’s nothing but sand and rock as far as the eye can see. Desert is mighty cold this time of year. If he went wandering on his own without protection, he’d be dead in minutes. Closest civilization from here is either Imlay down the line or the Lassens’ Ranch about a half-day horse ride away.” “And this beast?” “An old superstition in these parts. Same old story about some wild hairy man you hear west of the Rockies. Believe me gentlemen, there’s nothing like that Sasquatch fella anywhere near here.” The conductor left as Ted and Mack sat down on the beds. “So, what are you thinkin’?” “I don’t know Mack,” Ted muttered. Once he was sure they were alone in the quiet sleeper, Ted rested his head on Mack’s thick shoulder. “It’s strange…” “Of course, but you’re workin’ on an idea.” “How’d you know?” “Only two reasons you ever reach for my cock. You’re horny or you need somethin’ to play with while you think.” Ted stifled a laugh. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” “You didn’t have any complaints about my mouth a few hours ago.” Ted shoved him with a grin, stood, and began to pace. “Y’know, when you promised me a trip on the Overland Limited, I wasn’t expecting to work. Then again, I’ve never known you to turn down a case.” “Never can in this business. You ever hear of that beast thing?” Mack scratched at his beard. “Nothin’ worth mentioning. All I’ve heard is that it’s some monster that appears every now and then. Miss Lucy probably just had a nightmare like you said. With all the spirits she took I’m surprised she’s not seeing more than monsters.” “Details, Mack, details.” “Fine, fine. Folks say it’s a gigantic man, not so much Sasquatch. Old railroad workers say they saw entire trees knocked to the ground with the imprint of a fist in their bark. Other folks say it can carry a Texas Longhorn over one shoulder. Stories go back long before the good ol’ U.S. of A. moved out here. Honestly, nothin’ more than tall tales to tell around a campfire.” He studied his partner’s face. “You aren’t seriously considerin’?!” “No, no… well, yes. But it’s definitely far-fetched. There’s a billion other possible reasons, say he decided he wanted out of the marriage? I’m more interested in why that was Mrs. West’s first response. There’s no such thing as monsters like that, and certainly none that would attack a train!” Suddenly, the floor jerked and a terrible screech filled the air. Ted flew up into the air and crashed against Mack while bags and parcels were flung around the car. “What in tarnation?!” “The emergency brake,” Ted muttered. “You alright?” “Me?! You’re the one who did a somersault!” “Good,” Ted grinned. “Let’s go see what the fuss is about.” They dashed outside with several other passengers and made their way up along the tracks to the locomotive. The engineer and the fireman were already out of the cab of the hissing Atlantic. The headlamp shone brightly across the dark desert, but it made the problem all too clear. One of the rails had been bent a good two feet out of the way. “I’ve never seen a thing like it!” The engineer roared. “We’ve had warped rails before, but this is some kind of madness.” Ted walked up the ties and ballast and stared at the rail. He motioned Mack over. “What do you see?” “It’s not possible!” “My thoughts exactly.” Ted motioned to the heads of the railroad spikes, bent in half and torn from the wood. “It was intentional. Sabotage.” “That’s all well and good, but I’m more worried about that!” Mack hissed. Ted looked closer at the rail and his jaw dropped. Clear as day, he could see four indentations in the metal. Four indentations as if grabbed by a mighty hand. ============================================ Part II: The Evidence ============================================ “That’s it, we can’t keep going tonight,” Mr. Hubbard said. “We’re heading back to Lovelace so we can telegraph ahead to stop all trains.” He began to shoo the passengers back inside while Ted and Mack stared at the rail. “It can’t be,” Mack murmured. “It can’t… can it?” “Tell me you know of some machine that can do that. A machine that can be assembled, used, disassembled, and moved without so much as a trace!” Ted motioned wildly to the desert sand, seemingly undisturbed. As he turned to Mack, he stopped. There was something strange on the wind… something familiar… “Gentlemen, inside please!” Ted and Mack relented, but Ted was still frowning as the train began to move again. “Tonight just keeps getting stranger…” They boarded the train, just in time to hear Miss Johnson complain again. “I swear, I’m going to sell my shares as soon as I can tell my broker!” Ted fought the urge to roll his eyes before taking a seat in the lounge car. Everyone else had gone back to bed, leaving only the two of them. Mack eased himself onto a sofa. “There was a funny smell out there. You smelled it too, right?” Ted nodded. “I can’t place it though. It’s like some kind of cologne or perfume. Cherry wood smoke… earth after a rain… new leather boots… Same thing I smelled near Lucy’s bed.” “That’s not what I smelled. Smelled like cigars and pine to me. Smelled… good.” Ted settled back in the chair. For a second, he frowned. His pants felt a bit small, and his shirt sleeves a bit short. “Strange, very strange. I definitely didn’t smell anything like that.” Just then Ollie snuck out of a small storage room. “Oh, I’m sorry to bother you.” “No, no Ollie, no trouble at all.” Ted paused. “Say, you haven’t smelled anything strange around here lately?” “Well, um, I…” He shook like a leaf. “C’mon and sit down with us,” Mack said warmly motioning to the spot next to him. Ollie quietly obliged. Mack placed his arm behind him. The young man looked like a scared rabbit but slid backwards ever so slightly to let Mack’s arm touch his back. “So, anything strange?” “I… shouldn’t say. The railroad has been fine, nothing weird…” “Nothing?” Mack said again, now gently letting his hand drape onto Ollie’s shoulder. At the same time, the buttons on his shirt seemed stretched to the limit, ready to snap. “I… I…” Ollie stammered, eyes mesmerized. Ted rolled his eyes though he did enjoy seeing the cute man squirm. “Mack, please, don’t torture him. Though, I’m sure we’d be willing to indulge him if he were to talk…” Both men sent a smirk to each other as Ollie became very focused on the floor, but his pants had a very noticeable bulge. “Promise not to tell?” Mack paused just long enough to undo the top button of his shirt. “We’re not gonna say anything unless you do.” His other hand drifted down and gave the valet’s bulge a gentle squeeze. The telltale sign of pre stained the pants punctuated by a needy groan. “Hmm, we’re your first huh boy?” “Y-y-yes sir,” Ollie mumbled. “I was too scared to- EEP!” Ted’s hand snuck down into Ollie’s pants, groping his supple cheeks. “All you gotta do is tell us.” He moaned into his fist. “Someone’s gonna see!” “Not if you hurry up. Now spit it out.” He nodded. “Mr. West wasn’t the first to disappear. At least one man disappears around Imlay on every trip I’ve been on.” Both Ted and Mack looked at each other. “Every time?” “Yeah, but the big wigs’ve been paying people to keep quiet. I… I saw one of them get taken away. I peeked in from the door and saw one burst outta his clothes, slowly tearing through them. It was so…” The valet moaned, openly switching between grinding on Mack’s hand and trying to let Ted grope as much of him as he could. “You should’ve seen it! He was huge! After he finished growing, he broke open the door and leaped off the train. Last thing I saw, he was painting the desert white and stomping off after a giant shadow north.” “Good boy,” Mack growled in his ear, before capturing his virgin mouth in a passionate liplock. Ted teased his hole as he left a little love bite on his neck. Ollie cried out like a Reno whore and soaked his uniform in his seed. The bliss on his face soon melted into embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t’ve-” Ted and Mack squeezed him between them. “Nonsense. How about you come by a little later and we’ll finish what we started.” Embarrassment morphed to sheer excitement, stars in his eyes. “Really?” “Yeah, but we need to work on this case for a bit first.” “Oh, right… yes!” With that, the valet skittered away to change into a fresh uniform. Mack grinned and pulled Ted into his hairy chest. “We better hurry up, otherwise you’re gonna have to deal with this.” Ted grinned. “Then you better hurry up with the case.” “That’s easy! If the railroad is covering it up, then they probably have something to do with it.” Ted chewed the thought over. “That’s excellent reasoning, but you’re forgetting one little thing.” “What’s that?” “Why would the railroad want to scare away potential customers? Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t put it past them to do something shady, even with that old bastard Huntington six feed under, but it doesn’t make sense.” He scratched at his scruff. “No… they’re covering it up, because they don’t want a scandal; protect their profits at all costs. The question is, are they reacting to it like we are, or do they know and can’t stop whatever it is that’s happening? “The way I see it,” Ted continued, “there are three possible solutions. Number one, Mrs. West got rid of him. I admit it’s very simple, but sometimes the simplest answer is the truth. We know the door was unlocked. It wouldn’t have taken much for her to push him out. Number two, our southern belle is actually a beast – though I don’t mean that literally. She sure tried to make a scene. Could be purposely trying to drive down the stock price of the railroad.” “Why would she do that?” “Lots of companies want a piece of the pie in the Southwest. There’s lots of money to be made out of California. That then leaves us with solution number three.” Ted frowned. “And what’s that?” “The Beast is real.” Mack crossed his arms. “You’re kidding. You actually believe that children’s fairy tale monster is real?” “It’s crazy I know, but there’s definitely something driving the stories. That said, a man growing out of his clothes and going out into the desert in a sex driven frenzy? I don’t know if we can count Ollie as a reliable witness. We need more evidence, but it’s clear the stories exist for a reason.” Mack snorted. “Kid’s stuff. Though I gotta say, wouldn’t mind growin’ like that.” “Oh really?” Ted pressed with a crooked grin. “Are you saying you’d want to get even stronger? Grow so big that you tear your clothes to tatters? Have a cannonball for an arm?” Mack’s breathing grew shallow. “You’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that?” He flipped Ted onto his back and pressed him into the sofa. “Maybe I’ll grow carry you around on my cock. Just flex and I’d make you cream yourself. I’d… I’d…” Mack trailed off. “Aww, come on, whisper more sweet nothings to me,” Ted snarked, but he saw Mack grow pale as he looked out the window. “Heaven’s sake, look at that!” There, just outside the window was a monstrous silhouette running alongside the train. “We’ve got to tell the conductor. Whatever that thing is we’ve got to get away!” Instead, the emergency brakes came on and the train screeched to a halt. The shadow reared back for a moment but stopped next to their car. Ted hardly had time to duck as a boulder smashed into the side of the car. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t a rock, but a fist. That same scent stronger than ever hung heavy and humid in the air. Before Ted could react, he was smashed back by a flying chair as the hand scooped up Mack and made off into the night. ============================================ Part III: Ted Ward Sits Back and Thinks ============================================ With one car practically destroyed, the passengers were more than frightened. The force of the blow had knocked not only the first car but several others off the rails. After long deliberation, Mr. Hubbard arranged with a passing ranch-hand to help ferry the passengers back to Lovelace. Ted sat on the ballast, sipping down whiskey from the dining car. He tried to think, but panic kept filling his mind. Mack was gone… Mack was gone… Every so often, he’d stagger to his feet, swearing to go find his companion but the other waiting passengers would shush him and set him back down. “Don’t worry Mr. Ward,” Ollie would say sweetly. “Mr. Simmons is strong, I’m sure he’ll be alright.” Sure, Mack was strong, but strong enough against whatever that fist belonged to? Ted nursed his whiskey as he thought. On the bright side, he knew unequivocally that the Beast existed. On the other, he had no idea what the Beast actually was, nor what it’s purpose was in attacking a train. No, wait… he thought back. It wasn’t attacking a train, but rather the train. It only attacked the Overland Limited, or at least the missing people were on the Overland Limited. None of the local trains were attacked. So, what was the common factor? He tried to think, but the combination of Mack’s abduction and the whiskey only made him sluggish. The night seemed colder and darker than ever. “Darkest before the dawn,” Mack would have said. “Dearie, are you okay?” Ted looked up. It was Mrs. Halverson. “Just shaken ma’am.” The old matron sat down next to him and gingerly patted his shoulder. “I lost my husband to the Beast long ago…” Ted looked up in surprise. “Why didn’t you say something?” “Because I… I didn’t want to say something when I wasn’t sure.” She paused. “You see, the night my husband disappeared, there was something strange I noticed. For one, that terrible stench.” Ted nodded, though he wouldn’t call the odor terrible necessarily. “But there was another thing. You see, I always suspected, but I never wanted to say for sure just in case. After all it’s difficult to come to that conclusion, and everything is really a guess in the end if you can’t ask the person yourself.” “Ma’am please.” “Oh, you’re right,” she smiled weakly as she wrung her hands. “Well… when the Beast took my husband, he was… smiling.” “The Beast was smiling?” “No, my husband. Absolute happiness and for the longest time I ignored the rather obvious answer. I did my own research on the disappearances you know and they all seemed to have something in common.” She looked up at Ted. “All the men that have been kidnapped have been… um… sharing the company of other men.” Ted stared back. “You’re positive?” “Seven of the ten I heard about for sure. I’m afraid I can’t say for Mr. West but consider it my intuition.” The cart returned then and she got up with the last of the passengers. “I imagine you’ll want to investigate Mr. Ward, but I have a feeling this may be the last time we see each other if you stay. The Beast will be coming for you next. Good day, Mr. Ward.” Ted couldn’t form words as the cart trundled away, but he was more determined than ever to find Mack. “One final shot. A race against the clock.” He climbed back into the ruined cars. He took his handkerchief and soaked it in perfume from a broken bottle in the barber’s room. The intense aroma made his eyes water, but it drove away the scent that clearly had an effect on Mack. He tied it around his nose and mouth and walked through the cars. It wasn’t long before he could hear a sound from the lavatory. Someone panting and groaning. He kicked open the door. “Mr. Hubbard?!” The conductor had shucked his jacket and pants, standing only in his underwear, shirt and vest, groping at himself. He was growing before Ted’s eyes at a tantalizingly slow pace. Each breath slowly stretched the threads a little farther… a little tighter. His underwear was soaked in a never-ending river of pre. “Detective…” he said huskily. “So glad you could join us for the final trip.” “The final… what are you talking about?” The conductor laughed, licking pre off of his hand. “The final trip. Master promised to reward me for all of the men I delivered to him. He promised to fill me until I pass out and make me one of his special men.” “You’re insane!” “No, you just haven’t submitted yet. Submit to him and grow!” Ted slammed the door shut and slid a chair in front of the latch. It wouldn’t hold the growing brute for long, but it was enough for him to escape. “It’s true, Ollie was right- shit! Ollie!” He spun on his heel and ran back through the train, looking for the valet. Each car was empty, boxes and parcels overturned, sheets and clothes left strewn about in the panic to escape. Finally, there was only one place left, the car Mack was taken from. He kicked open the door. It was that smell again, but it was even stronger than before. The car was empty except for Ollie who was on his knees clutching at his crotch. “What’s wrong?” Ted asked, holding the perfume-soaked handkerchief to his face. “Oh… Mr. Ward… it feels so good…” Ollie moaned. “I’m so scared but – OOOOOH – it’s so GOOD.” Ted watched in shock as he saw Ollie’s pants stretch and fill with a mountainous bulge. The young man’s voice cracked as he continued to moan, his uniform starting to grow tighter and tighter around his growing body. “Please Mr. Wa-AA-rd… don’t let it stop!” His voice was now a solid timber as he flexed the sleeves off of the jacket. “Oooh yeaaaah… I feel so big. Mr. Ward, feel how solid I am!” Ollie walked towards him, each step forcing another ripple of growth through his body. His pecs exploded through his shirt as his spreading lats finished destroying the vest. Ted could nearly hear Ollie’s heartbeat, seeing the skin stretch and muscles writhe just below, weaving into new massive cords. Ted felt his back hit the wall. “Mr. Ward, please, don’t you want to be like me? I want you to grow too.” He flexed his pecs. “You can grow and make me your boy. I want a monster of muscle to have his way with me. Someone sexy like you.” The massive leaking cock trapped him against the wall, dousing him in a steady stream of pre. “Maybe you and Mr. Simmons can take turns… put a young’un like me in his place under two muscle beasts.” Between everything, Ted felt his head begin to swim and he began to fall to the ground. The world spun and everything grew dark. ============================================ Part IV: The Culprit Revealed ============================================ Ted’s head throbbed as he slowly came too. He groaned and wrenched himself up off the dirt. The world swam for a moment, but when it focused, he could see he was in a small forest clearing next to a creek. He was in a chalked circle near a roaring campfire that kept him warm that freezing night. At three equally spaced points in the circle was a bowl filled with flaming sage. The smell was completely overpowering. Ollie in his fully grown glory was knocked out on the ground. Ted’s heart sank but it was soon clear he hadn’t been hurt, far from it actually. A colorful smattering of hickies on his bull-neck and traps and a slowly softening tower of a cock revealed Ollie was drunk in bliss. Right next to him was Billy… or at least it was Billy. Now it was Billy times one hundred, far larger than any man could ever be with a massive turtle shell of a stomach and mountainous pecs. Ted couldn’t tear his eyes away from how large he was. His forearms alone were thicker than Mack’s thighs had been. Not to mention the anaconda and boulders he had that made even a stallion look as small as a blade of grass. “Ollie! Billy!” Ted hissed as loud as he dared. “C’mon pull yourself together!” He crept to the edge of the chalk circle. “I wouldn’t cross that line if I were you.” A voice like thunder rumbled through the room, shaking inside Ted’s chest. “It’s the one thing keeping you from going into a frenzy.” Ted scrambled back toward the second and looked around the shadows. “Who are you?! Show yourself!” He reached back for his gun, but it was missing. “Don’t worry, I’ve put it away for safekeeping. Beautiful weapon, but who needs that when you’ve got your fists.” “Where am I?” The voice chuckled. “Detective, I thought you would have figured it out. You’re at my little homestead. My ranch, as some of my men have come to call it.” The voice paused. “Don’t worry about them, they’re just tired. Burned a lot of energy in the transformation.” “Show yourself!” “Demanding, aren’t we?” Out from the shadows emerged a massive, hairy foot. Ted looked up and up and up. A twelve-foot giant, easily over a ton of pure muscle stood tall and proud before him. The new monster made Billy look like a child. His calf alone was nearly as wide as Ted was tall. If the other two had mountains for chests, the man before him had the entire Rockies. Ted couldn’t help himself as his eyes drifted to this monster’s cock, but he soon realized it was planted firmly up the newly grown Mack’s ass. Mack was massive, but his face was swallowed between the monster’s hairy, sweaty pec cleavage. With each breath however, Mack was growing bigger and bigger. A steady stream of cum dripped from the monster’s abs as Mack continuously unloaded, locked in a bottomless sea of lust. He was twice as big as Billy and becoming more and more like the Beast with every passing breath. “So, am I everything you expected, Detective? You seem to approve.” His features were so sharp, even behind his thick beard and long wild hair, his face looked carved from stone. Ted had to take a moment to find his voice. He then noticed he came without touching himself. “Who… who are you?” “People have called me the Beast… turns me on.” A flood of cum dripped out of Mack’s ass, unable to be contained. “A massive Beast who can make mere men grow into his pack simply by being near them. I don’t need a name anymore.” “H-h-how?” “Inheritance. The original made more Beasts that could make men grow and so on and so on. No one’s sure who the first was or how, but when you’re built like a battleship with a five-foot cock that never goes soft – well, you tend to have bigger things on your mind.” Ted looked at Mack again, who was greedily licking up the sweat on the Beast’s pecs. The overpowering sage made it clear. “Your musk…” “Fuck, I love the smart ones,” The beast knelt down and grabbed Mack with one of his massive hands. Without ceremony, he pumped the man up and down on his cock as if he weighed nothing more than a feather. Ted was mesmerized watching the dense veins and muscles in the bicep bunch and release. “You’re drooling, Detective.” Ted blushed but didn’t make an effort to stop. He only thought about how he wanted to see the Beast really go toe to toe with a locomotive. The thought of him curling it with ease or pushing it with a finger was enough to make him want to rush across the circle. “The transformation makes men not much use for anything but fucking for about a month. Not to say afterward we don’t fuck like rabbits but we can at least have an intelligent conversation.” The Beast smirked. “Can’t say no, can you? I bet you want to take your friend’s place, don’t you?” “But I give all of my conquests an out.” The Beast stopped leaving Mack and Ted both groaning for more. “You’re left with a choice, detective. Go back into the world and hide or submit to me and live free.” Ted Ward did not need to decide. Before he knew it, he had crossed the line and felt the glorious burn in his muscles as he breathed in the Beast. Just like Ollie, his cock tore free first, suddenly expanding to a two-foot log. Ted screamed in a mixture of agony and bliss, covering himself in his own cum; his balls growing and filling faster than they could be emptied. “Yes,” the Beast rumbled, fucking Mack in a frenzy while watching the show. “Feel that blood rushing through your body, pumping every last bit of you bigger and bigger. You have no choice but to grow!” Ted screamed, not even attempting to hold back. The delectable smell of smoke and leather was his whole world as he felt his body throb with energy. It was like a tank filled to the brim and ready to explode, to completely exceed his humanity and fly straight into beastdom. His muscles writhed below the skin as rivers of veins rose to the surface. His limbs jolted with each pulse of growth flooding into him, knocking him onto his back. He could feel his arms swell and fight against his thickening lats for space. His pecs thickened into heavy slabs hanging over a tight wall of abs. He trembled as his glutes pushed him off the ground, growth flowing into his massive legs and stretching feet, all the while his orgasm continuing unabated. When all the muscle had nowhere left to go, his body forced him taller, only to pile on more muscle anywhere it could fit. As waves of pleasure and spasms slowed, Ted stretched and flexed his now eight-foot tall mass. With a lustful hunger in his eyes, he turned towards the Beast. Their howls echoed across the desert.

Hey guys, Longtime lurker who’s finally decided to take the plunge. Not much exposition here - suffice it to say the characters are 18+ fraternal twin high school seniors, one of whom is developing a bit faster than the other... Anyway, definitely not literature; I just want us all to nut like crazy till we’re dehydrated. ************** Fraternal Part 1: Daydream Believer Matt stared off into space, blocking out the droning teacher, dreaming about his twin bro. Fuck, what if Derek kept growing? What if he shot up and out, towering over him, hitting 7’? His massive, sweaty muscles hulking with veins and striations, bulging and flexing rock hard with man power. He’d storm into their bedroom, casually breaking the door down with one massive fist, ducking down and turning sideways to squeeze through the opening... “What the fuck?!” “Sorry lil bro, but I got so fuckin horny workin out! I need your ass,” Derek growled, his deep bass voice matching his ruggedly handsome, thickly bearded teen face and gigantic body. His veiny monster dick was rock hard and leaking a thick rope of precum, slanted off to the side and ripping through the heavy material of his shorts. Derek flexed his abs and cock hard, blowing his shorts and jockstrap apart completely, his monster dick flipping upward and slinging precum onto his briefcase-sized pecs and into his thick teen beard. A big rope hung off his heavy mustache, right over the full lips, and his incredibly long powerful tongue unfurled to lap the salty goo off sensually. Derek strode over to the bed, his huge feet thudding. He reached down and grabbed Matt by the throat, his giant paw wrapping easily around the jock’s neck. He lifted his bro out of bed with one fluid motion, barely registering the weight on his hulking arm. He dangled Matt in midair. Their eyes were completely level, while Matt hung eight inches off the floor. “Enough talk. Fuck time!” Derek roared, flipping Matt around and impaling his beefy ass on the dripping, veiny 13” long x 3” diameter monster dick, the apple-sized cockhead busting past his glutes and stretching his ring wide open. Matt saw with horror in the mirror that he no longer had a tight puckered little manhole, but thanks to Derek’s repeated battering a gaping, sloppy, loose-lipped mancunt hung from his jock boy ass and hugged the giant meat wetly. His back arched as he begged for more, goading his twin into a frenzy of musclefucking, globs of hot precum belching out of his red, prolapsed, destroyed pussy, the massive cock distending his abs like some kind of alien invader. Matt watched through tears as Derek’s incredible girth dragged his guts inside out, filling him like no other man could. Suddenly Derek gripped his side hard with one huge paw, slamming Matt down until Derek’s dick was buried to the orange-sized balls. He flexed hard, a full body flex that made the veins on his muscles and cock surge, forcing him to grow outrageously bigger, stretching out Matt’s already wrecked asshole and lifting his body up. “Unnnf... so fuckin BIG...” he moaned, clamping his mancunt down and suddenly erupting like the fucktoy slut his bro’s muscle and dick had transformed him into. “Grrr, yeah, fuckin’ big.. an’ gettin’ BIGGER!” Derek growled, suddenly straightening up his towering body and flexing to appreciate his new height and power, Matt’s whole body weight supported easily by Derek’s steel-hard monster. Razor-cut striations jutted out even more across the insanely muscled expanse of this body, while veins pulsed and bulged even thicker. Fuck, Derek was noticeably bigger and leaner than he was earlier that day, bulging with raw masculinity and dripping with sweat. He felt Derek’s balls swell and tighten up as the first cannon blasts of cum began to batter his guts, his gaping pussy meat sliding up the veiny shaft from the force... RRRRING! Matt snapped to attention back in class, dick spent and dripping down his leg, as the bell rang.

ZFerrari's ultimate crossover Authors note: OK, more parts to some of my other stories and parts of this was supposed be out months ago, but life happens and there's shit you got to deal with. But I'm back now. Wreckage in California: Part One. Isabelle and Aqua are flying to Los Angeles, California. Here there was readings of the wishirite being somewhere in this city. They landed at LAX with special permission from the city. They were escorted out from the jet and into a cab. The cab exits the airstrip and starts going into the city. "Ughh, I hate the city." Isabelle says. "Whats wrong with the city?" Aqua asks. "Traffic, smog, too many rude people. And TRAFFIC" "It aint that bad girl" "Then how come we aren't moving right now?" Aqua looks up and in front of her and sees that they are in fact stuck in traffic. Horns going off everywhere, people yelling out their windows. "Yall honestly can walk if you want to." The taxi drivers says. "We would but Isabelle didn't want to" Aqua says. Its gonna be a while before they get to the hills. "OK, right there" Elliot says. "You sure bruh? we can do it better if you like" Jacqui says. "I got to take more photos so I need to compare" Elliot says. Elliot is currently taking pictures outside on top of DeMarcus' car. He has grown himself into a slim but athletic build, the type to get girls, and thats exactly what he's trying to do. He has Jacqui and Marc helping him get the perfect picture to post on Instagram. Marc walks outside spinning his Lanyard with his keys in it, looking low-key Salty. "I'm still failing to realize why you have to use my car to try and get girls." Marc says. "Cuz your cars are better than mine" Elliot says smiling. "My boy, there's a Ferrari dealership not even 15 minutes away" "There's always somebody flexing on people with a Ferrari. Gotta show em something different. And when they see a fairly young man with long blonde hair, and his shirt off flexing his bicep and showing off his abs, leaning on a hood of a Tuned Lexus IS300, They will go crazy." Elliot says confidently. "I'm assuming you forgot where we live. We live L.A. You can't go 3 yards without seeing something this world has to offer. For all I know, Mark Whalberg prolly did the same except with a 99 eclipse. Plus L.A bitches, not the type of girls you want to get with." Marc said that with some passion. He's actually trying to help this man after the whole saga they had just a couple weeks ago. "Isn't Jacqui an L.A. girl? How did you get with her?" Elliot asks. Marc's heart dropped out of nervousness. He looks at Jacqui with a fearful look and Jacqui looks at him with a look that says "Go ahead, say some slick shit see what happens" "Long story" Marc says. Jacqui nods her like "I thought so bitch" "Alright Jacqui get this one". Jacqui takes the picture Elliot envisioned earlier. She even got some of the mansion in the background to show off. "Alright, got it." Elliot runs to see the picture. "Fucking perfect. I'm posting this right now" Elliot his the post button and already has 30k likes and 1,000 comments, mostly from boys. The few girls, are the typical spam comments that even heavily religious accounts get. "Well you're at least trending" Jacqui says. "Thats some good news I guess. Ima go tell Cade and Dominic I'm trending real quick" Elliot says as he walks off. "I don't know what he expected trying to get bitches on Instagram." Marc says. "Faith. He'll get a girl, whether it be from social media or just meeting a girl, he'll get a special one eventually." Meanwhile... Isabelle and Aqua finally got out the jam on the highway and are almost at the hills. Isabelle is on her phone on Instagram on the trending section. One picture stands out to her though. She taps on a picture that has a Young man with long blonde hair with his shirt off flexing his bicep on top of an old customized sedan. The boy had a fairly athletic build with a toned six pack and a mansion in the background. The boy looked cute to her, but it ain't nothing new to her. The caption said "Any Ladies tryna come through??" seeing that caption made her giggle. 'So damn cringy' she thought to herself. She couldn't but have a lil deja vú since the mansion seemed familiar. Then it clicked. That's the mansion they're looking for. "Girl, check this out" Isabelle shows the photo. Aqua looked at it and immediately saw the mansion. She widened her eyes in realization. "Lemme see that phone. "Any ladies Tryna come through" huh? Fucking cringy. Ay this his how you flirt." Aqua says laughing. Isabelle is excited for what she's about to do. Elliot is sitting in the living room, watching the thunder vs rockets game. This is game 4 for the finals. Rockets leading with a 2-1 game lead and Elliot is rolling for the thunder to win again. Luckily Russell Westbrook is out of the series right now and James harden isn't doing too good either. He gets a notification on his phone from Instagram that someone wants to chat. With all the bots and scammers going around at the moment, he is skeptical about the DM (as he should be) and taps on it. His skepticism went away but only a lil bit after reading the message. "Hey cutie, I saw your last picture and you're hot" Aqua and isabelle started giggling after sending that. "This'll be a piece of cake" Aqua says. "See I would show gratitude, but I really don't know if you're a bot or not, cuz seeing you only have 3 pictures posted all with you at the beach, and you have 15K followers and only follow 300 people doesn't help at all." Elliott replied back. "Damn this boy is smarter than we thought" Isabelle says. "Well... we gotta do what we gotta do." Aqua says reluctantly. She begins taking a video with a flirty voice showing her and isabelle in the back of the taxi. "AYY Elliot! You already know, I'm hanging with my girl Isabelle, we bout to come through in this Uber. Get ready cuz we bout to rock yo world in about 5 min!" Aqua sends the video and gives isabelle her phone back. Aqua starts crying from laughter from the buffoonery she just did. "Aint no way he gon believe that" Isabelle says smiling. *knock* *knock* *knock* Jacqui walks to the front door and opens it. "I need to borrow your house" Elliot says. "Ex fucking scuse me?!" Marc says yelling. He heard him say that from across the house and around the corner in the kitchen. He immediately starts running to the door. "I said, I need to borrow your house" Elliot reiterates. "And why should we do that?" Marc asks. "2 girls was in my DMs from my post earlier! And they coming over here!" Elliot says excitedly. "Nigga, you act like you don't have a mansion literally 75 ft that way." "But she saw this one and I'll eventually tell her the truth, once chase gets back and clean all those nut stains in the gym" Marc looks down thinking and look at Jacqui. Jacqui just shrugs. "Lemme see the DM" Elliot gives Marc his phone. He sees the DM and the video he saw. Jacqui looks at it with disgust as she sees nothing special about these girls. "Elliot are you sure you trust a girl that looks like Cetrion's daughter and another girl who looks a lot like Professor Sonia?" Jacqui asks. "Nothing wrong with trying" Elliot says. Marc thinks about it and hesitantly agrees. "You get one hour and they better be gone. Nothing better be missing and nothing better be happening to our cars or its your ass. AM I CLEAR?" Marc asks. "Crystal" Elliot says. 10 mins later The taxi pulls up to the mansion and Aqua and Isabelle gets out. They look at the house with their hands on their hips. "Yeah, this the one right here" Isabelle says. "We should be able to get it and arrest that cunt and leave. But we got to be patient about it" Aqua says. Marc and Jacqui are on the second floor of the Muscle bros mansion looking through the blinds and the window. Maec has one window and Jacqui has the window next to him. They even got binoculars looking outside. "Yeah, I see them bitches in the street" Marc says. "Thats rather rude, don't you think?" Dominic asks. "Nope, unless you want us to say cunts or hoes or maybe even skanks." Jacqui says. Dominic and Cade are sitting down on a couch upstairs in a hallway, watching their 2 best friends be paranoid as ever. "Come on guys, just trust Elliot on this. Yall need to leave him alone" Cade says. "Yall need to clean that damn gym. There's buckets full of cum and theres cumstains on the walls, on the ceiling and theres even a couple cracks on the ceiling. Yall really be cumming that hard huh?" Jacqui said all of that with an annoyed tone. "I'd be dammed if I got clean Chase' horny ass mess." Dominic says. "Alright, I got better experience with guys. I'll do the talking" isabelle says. "Bitch you thought" Aqua says laughing as she starts walking up to the front door with one hand on her hip. "They're definitely plotting something, cuz the black one is laughing" Marc says. Auqa rings the doorbell. Both Marc and Jacqui's phone goes off because they have the ring security system, like every house does in this neighborhood. Elliot opens the door and he is shirtless with an athletic gymnast build with Nike shorts and Jordan retro 1's. Marc's retro 1's. "Hey ladies, welcome to my house" Elliot says as hes leaning against the door frame flexing his right arm, try too hard to be sexy. "Im gonna kill this faggot when this is all over" Marc says. "Trying too damn hard to be sexy" "Hey boo, you look even prettier in person! Can we come in and possibly get a lil freaky?" Aqua says. "Oh I'll show you freaky" Elliot says smiling. They go in and Elliott shuts the door. Marc and Jacqui step back and think about what they saw. "I still don't trust them one bit" Marc says. "I guess bromine got a lil better huh?" Cade says. Jacqui looks at him. "What do you mean by that?" She asks. "Well I mean you guys are doing the most for Elliot right now. And considering you don't trust these girls to have a threescore with him, i.e. spying on him from his own house, you really care about him. I guess he really is your best friend" Cade says. Marc doesn't have a problem being Elliot's friend, but being called his BEST friend is a lil bit of a stretch. Marc has other friends he hangs out with outside of work. Marc doesn't really take to kind to that. He runs over to Cade and grabs him by the shirt and pulls him to his face. "Ok, look motherfucker, don't you DARE call me his best friend again, unless you want me to make the next 5 years of your life HELL!" Marc yells. Cade looks unfazed as he should. "You got 3 seconds to let go of my shirt before I make the next 5 minutes of your life hell." Cade says. "Oh really and what are you gonna do?" Marc says, challenging him. "Oh you forgot?" Cade says. All of his clothes disintegrated as he grew all of his muscle to an average bodybuilder body type. His cock even grew up to 20 inches standing straight up. Instantaneous growth, all of the muscle bros achieved that. Marc still a piece of his shirt in his hand and dropped it and stepped back, and squared up. "You also forgot I'm a whole lot stronger than what I was 2 months ago." Marc says. "Hmm, talk your shit Marcus" Dominic said. He is looking intrigued at the situation that is happening in front of him. "Put your money where your big mouth is, before I put my fist and cock in yours. Cade says. "Fine. Baby, take this walkie-talkie, go to the house and find out whats really going on between them 3. But don't get caught. I've got beef with this G-eazy looking ass nigga right here." Marc tosses the walkie-talkie to Jacqui and she runs out the room to her house. "So Marcus, do you REALLY want to make the same mistake?" Cade says. "Lego" Marc says.

Hello, everyone! Long-time lurker over here! I've read a lot of stories on this forum and when the AI Dungeon was introduced here recently, I decided to give a shot at writing my own story. I've written a few dozen stories at AI Dungeon before, but this story here takes the cake. English isn't my first language, so you might encounter some errors here and there. On a side note: I'm not sure if I should post my story here or in the AI Dungeon section. I'll gladly repost it there if I made a mistake. AI type: Dragon WARNING: If you are not comfortable with incestuous relationships, then I highly advise you to not read this story. DISCLAIMER: The characters in this story are above 18 years of age. Ian and Ethan My name is Ian and I am a freshman in college. I have an older brother named Ethan and we get along really well. I am your stereotypical nerd in glasses. I'm of average height, standing at 5'9, wear glasses and kinda thin. I'm decently fit, but not fit enough to look muscled, if you get what I mean. I consider myself pretty good looking, as well. I've had a number of confessions from boys and girls alike. My brother, on the other hand, is easily one of the hottest guys in college. He's athletic and charming and is always nice to people. He stands tall at 6'3 and weighs about 225 pounds of solid muscle. His features include a defined, angular jawline, deep blue eyes, strong eyebrows, sandy blonde hair and dimples. His manly face contrasts with my boyish features. Surprisingly, my brother hasn't really been dating anyone seriously. He has been having sex here and there, but none of them became his girlfriends. I, however, didn't date anyone because of an entirely different reason. I'm secretly gay and I have been crushing on my brother since God knows when. Recently, I have been taking interest in hypnosis. I've always been fascinated by how a human mind can be controlled by the most trivial of things. I'm also curious to see if with the right technique of hypnosis, can someone be hypnotized to change how their body looks at will? So I started learning. I wanted to practice, but there's no one there to volunteer. "I'm home", I heard Ethan's voice downstairs. He must be back from football practice. I walked downstairs and greeted him at the door. "Hey, big bro! You must be back from practice. You must be tired, let me make you a drink" "Thanks, little bro. Why are you acting so excited?" he said as he raised his eyebrows. "Oh, no reason." I replied as I went to the kitchen. I got a glass of ice and poured Ethan's favorite drink, iced chocolate. "Thanks. Now cut the crap and tell me what's going on", he said as he took a sip. "Fine", I said as I dropped the act. "I have a favor to ask you" "A favor? You? This must be some pretty big favor", he said as he smirked. "Well, it is and it isn't. See there are these hypnosis sessions I want to try, but I need a partner. Since you're my brother, I thought you'd love to help me out." "Wait. You want me to go under hypnosis and do what exactly?" "Just go under a light hypnosis and follow my commands." "Is this safe?" "Of course! As long as I don't command you to do anything stupid, nothing can go wrong", I looked at him with a smile. He seemed hesitant "Pleeeaaaaase", I said as I clutched his arm. "I need you to help me with this." "Fine, but just once. I have football practice tomorrow." "Yay!" I said as I hugged him. "Now let's get started." I took him to my room and closed the door. I turned on the hypnosis program on my laptop and a weird spiral filled the screen. "Now I want you to stare deeply into the spiral", I said "I'm not sure about this", he said. "Hey! No chickening out! You promised to help me" "Fine", he said as he stared at the screen. I closed the blinds and turned off all the lights in my room. "Now what?" he asked. "Now just relax, don't think about anything, just stare at the spiral." He sat on my bed and continued to stare at the screen. "You feel your body relax into the chair as your muscles loosen" I said in a slow monotone voice. "You can hear me, but you're too relaxed to turn your head and look at me." "My whole body feels numb", he replied in the same monotone voice. "That's good. Now you find my voice really soothing" "Your voice is very soothing. I really like your voice", he said in a monotone voice. "Now I'm going to count from 10 to 1, when I reach 1 you will be in a deep hypnotic sleep. When you're in this state, you'll be able to hear my commands and you'll be able to follow them. When I snap my fingers, you will wake up and remember everything I tell you to do. Do you understand?" "Yes", he replied in a monotone voice. "Good, now here we go. 10, getting sleepy...9, you are feeling very relaxed...8, your muscles become loose...7, you feel like stretching...6, your eyes are closing...5, you are about to go unconscious...4, you are entering a trance...3, you are hypnotized...2, you are completely under my control...1, completely under my control..." I snapped my fingers as I counted "1". "You are awake and completely aware of your surroundings. You will follow all of my commands. You are smart, funny and attractive. Do you understand?" "Yes", he replied in a monotone voice. "You will have a crush on me, but you will try to hide it" "Yes", he said. "You will find ways to make me feel your muscles. You like it when I touch you" "Yes", he said. "You will get the urge to show off for me, but you will try to hide it. You want me to see just how buff you are." "Yes", he said. "When I say the phrase "Deep sleep", you will enter a deep hypnotic trance. When I say the phrase "Wide awake", you will exit the trance and remember all of my commands. Now repeat what I said" "When you say the phrase "Deep sleep", I will enter a deep hypnotic trance. When you say the phrase "Wide awake", I will exit the trance and remember all of your commands", he repeated my words in a slow monotone voice. "Good", I said and I snapped my fingers and he exited the trance. He blinked a few times and looked at me. "Did you do it? Did you hypnotize me?", he asked "Yep. You don't remember anything, do you?" "Nope. Nothing. You didn't make me do anything stupid, did you?" "Nope. I just made you flap your arms like a chicken", I joked. Now I wanna see if my hypnosis worked. I grabbed his bicep and pulled him "Let's go to McDonald's and grab a burger. I'm starving" He let out a little moan as he felt my hand on his bicep. "I'd love to, but I'm broke for the rest of the week. I spent my money on protein supplements", he said as I felt his bicep flex in my hands. He tried to pretend he didn't do anything and looked away. "Well, I'm not going to let you starve. Let's go", I said and grabbed his hand. He didn't say anything as I dragged him out of the house. We got into his car and he drove us to McDonald's. He was very quiet and kept looking at me out of the corner of his eye. I didn't say anything since I wanted to see what he would do. We got to McDonald's and he parked the car. "Are you sure about paying, little bro?", he said as he started to open his car door. "Yeah, I'm sure. You can pay me back later", I said and got out of the car. He followed me into McDonald's and we both ordered. He got a double quarter pounder meal, large fries and a chocolate shake while I got a double whopper meal, large fries and a diet coke. "So, you want ketchup or mustard on your burger?" I asked him as we sat down. "Both", he said as he opened his ketchup and drowned his fries in it. I shook my head as I started on my whopper. I looked over at him and saw that he was already half way through his meal. "How are you so hungry? You ate a big lunch not too long ago", I said in between bites. "I have a high metabolism. I eat a lot and never gain weight" "You're saying your 225 pound, muscular body never gained weight?", I glared at his body. "I'm not 225, I'm 220. And I'll have you know, I work out every day for at least two hours", he said in a defensive tone. "But you're still way too buff for a 20-year-old. How can you not gain weight and be this muscular?", I said as I pointed towards his bicep. He blushed. "I-It's not that big", he said as he looked away. "Dude, I'm just saying you're muscular. I mean, I'm fucking 5'9 and weigh 150 pounds", I said as I felt his bicep. He let out a moan as I touched it. "You're not 150 pounds, you're 155. I saw your ID", he said as he finished his food. "Yeah, well I'm not 5'9 either. I'm 5'8 and three quarters", I said as I took the last bite of my whopper. He laughed and took a bite into his food. He secretly liked me touching his biceps earlier. His inner cockiness was probably cheering. We finished our food and headed back to his car. "I'll drive", he said as he got into the driver's seat. "Again? I can drive, too, you know", I said as he started the car. "No, I'm driving", he said in a serious tone. "Fine" He drove us back to his house and we went inside. "I'm going to go upstairs and do some assignments. I'll be down in a few hours", he said as he walked towards the stairs. "Alright, I'll be in my room", I said as I walked towards my room. I walked into my room and sat down on my bed. I was really bored since I didn't feel like playing any games or anything. I grabbed my laptop and opened it. I checked Facebook and saw that I had a notification from class council about the elections tomorrow. I remembered I was supposed to go for the "fun" As I was scrolling through my feed, he knocked on my door and came in. "Hey, I'm done with my homework. What you up to?" "Nothing much, just checking my Facebook", I said as I turned the screen towards him. "Oh yeah, the elections are tomorrow. You running?" "Yeah, I'm going for secretary this time" "Why not president?" "I dunno, I think the president has too much responsibility. I just want to have fun", I said as I turned the screen back towards me. "Yeah, I get you", he said as he sat on my bed. "So, are you going to the gym today?" I asked, changing the subject. "Yeah, I'm going to the gym and then coming back here. You should come with me", he said as he patted the spot next to him on the bed. "I don't work out, remember?" "You don't have to be buff or anything. Just some light weight lifting will do" "Nah, I'm healthy enough. I don't wanna be as buff as you", I said as I poked his shoulder. He blushed and said "Hey, little bro. Do you think you can massage my shoulders?" "Huh?" "My shoulders are really tense. So can you give me a massage?" I blushed as I looked at him. He had a serious look on his face, but I could tell he was blushing as well. "Uh... Yeah, sure" This must be one of his ways of trying to make me feel his muscles. And it's working. I got off my bed and walked in front of him. I put my hands on his shoulders and started to massage him. He moaned as I touched his muscles. I could tell he was really enjoying it. "R-rub a little harder", he said as he bit his lip. I started to rub his shoulders harder as he moaned even more. I could feel his muscles relax under my hands. He was really built. I wonder how we're even related? I'll have to check that out as well. "A-ah, that feels good", he said as he closed his eyes. I started to massage his arms as well. He moaned as I touched his muscles. I then moved my hands down to his chest. I could feel his heartbeat through his chest as I massaged it. He bit his lip and moaned. "Deep sleep", I said as I looked into his eyes. His eyes closed and he entered a deep hypnotic trance. "Your lust towards me increases and at times, you won't be able to hide your attraction towards me. The urge to show me how buff you are becomes stronger" I continued the session like normal and told him to wake up after ten minutes. When he woke up, he looked at me and smiled. "That was a nice massage. I felt my muscles relax a lot", he said as flexed his arms. "Do you feel any urges?" "Just one. Do you want to see how buff I am?" "Uh... Yeah, sure", I said as he took off his shirt. He turned around so that he was facing me and flexed his muscles. He had the biggest arms I had ever seen. I was a little bit jealous of his muscles. "How do I look?" "Uh... You're really buff", I said as I looked at his muscles. He smirked and said "Thanks, little bro". He then walked out of my room. I decided to go to the gym with him. He seemed pretty happy when I told him. When we got to the gym, he started to do bench presses. I sat on a nearby chair and watched him. He was really focused on his workout. He did a set of bench presses and then looked at me. "Hey, come rub my shoulders again", he said as he looked at me. I got off the chair and walked over to him. I then started to massage his shoulders and he moaned. "Ah... That feels good, little bro", he said as he closed his eyes. I stopped massaging him after a few minutes and he looked unsatisfied. "I guess it's about time we go back home, then", he said as he looked at the clock. It was 4:30pm. "Yeah, it is", I said as we packed our stuff and left the gym. He took a shower at home and came to my room, just wearing a towel. He was standing at the door and his towel hung low at his waist. I stared at his body in awe. His pecs were big and his arms were gorgeous. His washboard six pack abs glistened with bathwater. Veins started trailing under his abs towards his groin. I could see the outline of his soft bulge through the towel and it was huge. He smirked and said "Hey, bro. Can I borrow your camera? I need it for an assigment" "Uh.... Sure", I said as I got up from my bed and tried to reach the camera on the top shelf. I was struggling because I was too short. "Here, let me help you with that" he stood very close behind me and reached for the camera. I could feel his pecs and abs pressing onto my back. His bulge was pressing right between my ass cheeks. I could feel my underwear getting a little damp. He grabbed the camera and handed it to me. "Thanks, bro", he said as he looked at me. I looked at him and saw that he was staring at me intently. I felt his hand rub against my back and then go down to my butt. He gave it a gentle squeeze and then walked out of the room. I was in shock. My brother just felt me up and I wanted him to do more... No. I took a deep breath and tried to forget about what happened. I got ready for bed and lied down. The next morning was a Saturday and I woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon. I went downstairs and saw Ethan cooking at the stove. "Morning, sleepyhead", he said as he turned to me and smiled. He was wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top. His glistening muscles were showing. I could see the outline of a huge bulge in his shorts. "Hungry?" he asked as he pointed to a plate full of pancakes and another plate full of bacon. "Yeah", I said as I sat down at the table. I started eating the pancakes and bacon while he sat down next to me. He continued eating like nothing happened last night. I was confused. Did he forget about what happened? I wanted to ask him about it, but I didn't want to seem like a fag. "Hey, little bro. Let's watch some TV after this", he said as he turned his head towards me. "Yeah, sure", I said as I continued eating. We finished eating and went to my room. We lied down on my bed and started watching TV. I tried to forget what happened last night, but I couldn't. It was all I could think about. WWE came on and we watched a wrestling match. I was trying to focus on the TV, but I couldn't help but notice how hard his arm was pressed against mine. I wanted to touch his arm. I wanted to feel his hard muscles. I bit my lip and tried to ignore what I was feeling. I started to get hot. I felt my underwear get a little damp as my erection started to grow. I really wanted to turn towards him and start kissing him. I felt his arm slowly move towards me. Our fingers were barely touching. I felt my heart beat faster and faster. He slowly moved his hand towards mine. Our fingers intertwined and we both looked at each other. "I think we should wrestle", he said "Huh?" I was visibly confused. "Let's wrestle. You're a tough guy, right? I'm a tough guy. Let's see who's tougher." He got up and took off his tank top. He flexed his muscles and got into a wrestling position. "You're kidding me, right? I'm way smaller than you", I said "I'll hold back. We used to do this a lot when we were kids. C'mon, little bro. Wrestle your big, muscular bro", he said as he flexed again. God, he was so hot. I got up and took off my shirt. I got into a wrestling position and we started to wrestle. He was right. We used to do this a lot when we were kids. I guess he was trying to reconnect with me as family. It was working. After a few minutes, he stopped holding back and I realized something. Boy, was I wrong to think that he did this to reconnect with his little brother. He did this so that he can show off his muscles and pin me down with them. I have to admit, it's turning me on a little bit. "Alright, I give up", I said as I felt his hand touch my back. "You sure?" he asked as he kept pushing me down. "Yeah, you win." He got off of me and I lied down on the bed. He pounced on top of me and stared into my eyes. "That was intense! You may look small, but you sure as hell are strong", he said. "You're pretty strong yourself", I said. "Thanks, but you're the one who's strong. You're also pretty fast. You almost pinned me a couple of times." He got off of me and lied down next to me. We both stared at the ceiling as we tried to catch our breath. "Hey, Ethan" "Yeah?" "Deep sleep", I said. He immediately fell into a trance. I slowly moved my arm towards his arm and touched his bicep. His bicep was hard as a rock. I felt it and then moved closer to it. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster. I started to get nervous, but really turned on at the same time. I whispered into his ear, "Your lust towards me increases as you feel the urge to pleasure me" "Yes" "You will have the urge to press your muscles against my body" "Yes" "The testosterone in your body will increase by 10 percent. Your body muscles and cock will grow very slowly. You will become constantly horny" "Yes", he replied in a monotone voice. I snapped my fingers and he exited the trance. "What did you do to me?" he asked. "Nothing, bro." "My muscles are aching. I feel really horny." "You should go take a shower. All that wrestling made you sweat" "Yeah, I will." He got up and walked towards the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on. I got up and looked out the window. The sun was setting and it was a beautiful sight. I heard the shower be turned off. A few minutes later, I heard the bathroom door open and then close. There he was, in his towel again. His body looked noticeably bigger, but this time, his bulge wasn't soft. It was huge and was tenting his towel "I'm still horny", he moaned. "Then go jerk off in your room or something", I said as he walked out of my room. "Wait. How big is that thing?", I asked, pointing at his bulge. "Huge", he replied. "Let me see." He dropped his towel and turned around. His butt was gorgeous. I mean, I knew it was big, but his whole body was big. He had a huge V shape going down his back. His legs were thick and strong. "Last time I checked, it was 10 inches", he said as-a-matter-of-factly. He walked out of my room and I heard him jerking off in his. His moans can be heard and honestly, it turned me on more than I expected. I started to get horny, so I grabbed the lotion and started jerking off. I kept thinking about him and how big his muscles were. I thought about how he was so strong for his size and how he could easily pick up a car with those huge arms of his. I came and I heard him moan in his room as he released soon after. I cleaned myself up and got dressed. I heard him moan a few more times before his moans died down. He came a lot, I thought. "I'm done", he said as he walked into my room with a tissue in hand. "Done with what? Jerking off?" "Yeah. I'm going to sleep now." "Alright. Goodnight, bro." "Goodnight, bro" The next morning, I was awoken by the sound of moaning in the bathroom. God, he was jerking off in the toilet. That increase in testosterone sure did a number on him. I heard him flush and as he walked past my room and he looked surprised. "Hey, Ian. I didn't think you'd be awake" "Good moaning, to you, too, Ethan", he blushed a deep red and laughed at my pun. "Sorry to wake you up", he said, putting his hands up. His clothes looked tighter now that his muscles had grown. He looked delicious. "It's fine. What time is it?" "Its 7:30." "What the hell. That is early. You better make me some breakfast in return", I said jokingly. "Fine. What do you want?" "Surprise me." He laughed and walked out of the room. I got up and got dressed. I went downstairs and saw him cooking. He was wearing a tight shirt that showed off his arms, shoulders, and chest. "Wait, you really made breakfast? I was joking" "I know. I'm just letting you look at my muscles while I'm cooking." He laughed and I sat down at the table. He brought over a plate of bacon and eggs. It looked delicious. "Thanks, bro." "No problem, Ian." We ate and talked about random things. I had a good time with him. After we finished eating, he cleaned up and we went into the living room. We watched TV for a bit until he asked me if I wanted to go to the wrestle with him again. "Bring it", I said as I got into position. We didn't waste any time taking off our shirts and started wrestling. This time, he easily overpowered me and pinned me down onto the floor. His bigger muscles made him stronger. I felt so small compared to him. "Ha! I win!" he laughed as he got off of me. "Yeah, good job. Now get off of me." He laughed and got off of me. He started doing push-ups and I stared at his muscles. He turned his head and looked at me. "What?" "Nothing." "Tell me." "You're really hot." He laughed and turned his head back. "Thanks." He kept doing push-ups while I kept looking at him. I started getting a chubby. I got up and went into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and saw a lot of fruit juice. I grabbed a bottle and drank it. I heard him come in. "What are you doing?" "Nothing." He laughed. "You're not drinking that to hide your boner, are you?" "Shit." I quickly closed the fridge and turned around. "No." He laughed. "It's fine. I have one, too." I looked down and saw that he did have a boner. I looked back up at him and he had his hands behind his back. "Pinning you down felt so good", he said. "You wanna do it again?" "Yeah." We started wrestling and he pinned me down again. He was on top of me and I felt his muscles on my body. It felt so good. I felt my boner on his body. He felt it, too, and he started pressing his muscles onto my body. He started grinding his hips into me. I felt my precum soaking my underwear. He started grinding faster and harder. I felt his bulge rubbing against my body. It felt so good. His bulge dwarfed mine. My 8 inches looked small compared to his 10 inches. He was so big and strong. I felt my body give into him. I wanted to serve him. I wanted to be his. "I'm gonna pin you now", he whispered in my ear. "Do it." He easily pinned me down and kept me pinned down. "I'm gonna make you feel so good." He started grinding into me again. I felt his bulge throb as he kept grinding onto me. "I-I'm gonna.. cum", he said "Me too", as I said as we both started hugging each other and grinding harder. We both moaned and grunted as we felt our bodies release. He fell on top of me and kept me pinned down. I felt his warm seed inside my underwear. It felt so good. I came, too, and my seed leaked out and stained my underwear. We both panted as we kept grinding into each other. He soon realized what he was doing and got off me. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." "It's fine." He got up and went into the bathroom. I heard the water run and he cleaned himself off. He came back with a towel wrapped around his waist.. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." "It's okay, dude". He looked down and saw the stain in my underwear. "You came, too?" "Yeah." I saw him getting hard under his towel from the sheer fact that he made me cum in my pants. He quickly turned around and went back to his room to hide his boner. I got up and went to the bathroom. I cleaned myself off and took off my underwear, throwing it into the hamper. I went back to my room and lied down on my bed. I heard a knock on the door. "Yeah?" "Can I come in?" "Go ahead" Ethan came in and lied down next to me. "I'm sorry I did that to you." "It's fine." "No, it's not. I took advantage of you." "You didn't take advantage of me. I wanted it, too." "Are you sure? You're not just saying that?" "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." He smiled. "Thanks, Ian." "No problem, man" "Hey, Ethan" "Yeah?" "Deep sleep" His breathing slowed as he entered a deep hypnotic trance. "Ethan, you will become constantly horny and only I can make you cum" "I will become so horny that I'll want to release my sexual tension everyday." he said "Your muscles will grow very slowly until your clothes become very tight" "You will feel very hot all the time." "You will start growing muscle but only where you have muscle. Fat and other organs except your cock are unaffected." "Your body will crave my touch." "You will become so attracted to me that you'll want to be as close to me as possible. "You will have the urge to make me worship your muscles" "You will now exit the trance and remember everything I say. Wide awake", I said as I snapped my fingers. He slowly blinked his eyes as he regains consciousness. I was excited to see him follow my commands. "So, what do you wanna do now?" he asked. "I don't know, what do you wanna do?" "I don't know either. We could watch a movie or something." "Sure, what do you wanna watch?" "I don't know. You pick something" "How about The Incredible Hulk?" "Sure." I saw him biting his lip whenever Bruce Banner's muscle growth scene comes on. "Man, you're almost as muscular as the Hulk", I said while grabbing his biceps. "N-no I'm not. I'm muscular, but the Hulk's way bigger", he blushed as he flexed his bicep in my touch. "You're still big, dude. Look at these guns", I said, squeezing his biceps harder. "Thanks, Ian. You're pretty hot yourself" He looked at my body and bit his lip. He started to flex his arm again. "Do you think it's big? "It's huge, man. I think it has to be at least 19 inches", I said as I wrapped my hands around his bicep. "It's 20 inches", he said as he smiled. "You're just so hot, man. I can't believe you're my brother." "Thanks, Ian. You.. You can touch more if you want" "Really? You won't get mad?" "No, go ahead." I started to feel his muscles some more. I grabbed his arms and felt them as he giggled. "You're tickling me", he said. I kept grabbing his arms and then my hands traveled to his chest. "You can keep touching", he said. I felt his pecs and stomach as he started to breathe heavier. I then grabbed his thigh, feeling the huge mass of the quad. "I love your hands. They're so tiny on my muscles." "Thanks, man. Your body is so hot. I love your muscles. They're so big and firm." "I love your hands on me." I kept grabbing his muscles as he started to moan. "Your hands are so good, Ian. You're making me feel so good." I felt his body as he moaned louder. "Oh, Ian. I'm gonna..." He stopped himself and got off the bed. "We shouldn't be doing this, Ian. We're brothers", he said. "You started it", I said. "I know, but... We're brothers." "So what? You're hot and I'm attracted to you. Why can't we show each other affection? Lots of brothers do it." "Not true. Lots of brothers don't have sexual relationships." "How would you know if you don't try it out?" "I just know, Ian. Besides, we're going to be caught if we keep this up. We have to cool it." "Stop being a pussy and get over here. You made me hard, now it's time to take some responsibility", I said, pointing at my boner. "You know what? You're right. I can't back down from a challenge." He got back on the bed and started to crawl on top of me. He was breathing heavily against my neck and whispered into my ears, "Is this what you wanted?" "Mhmm", I moaned. He lowered his body onto mine and started to grind against me. "Oh, God. You're so hot." "You like that? I can go harder." He started to grind harder and I could feel his bulge grinding against my own. I started to moan as he kept going. "You like that, bro?" "Keep going. That feels so good." As he kept grinding, his muscles started growing very slowly again. I could see his shirt getting tighter. He noticed this and said, "Dude, I'm growing? How is this happening?" "I have no idea, but just keep going." He started grinding faster and I could feel his body growing against mine. He was at least 6'10 now. "This is so weird, but it feels so good. My muscles are growing and I can feel my body expanding. "Keep going. It's turning me on." He started to moan and grow even more. His shirt was getting very tight now and I could see the outline of his huge muscles. He was like a junior bodybuilder now. I pulled his body against mine and whispered into his ear, "I need to tell you something" "What is it?" he asked out of breath. "I hope you don't get mad at me but I made you attracted to me. Those urges you're feeling? I did those. I hypnotized you to make your muscles grow, too", I said. "You did? Why would you do that?" "Because I wanted to see you like this. You're so hot right now." He started grinding harder and his body was getting bigger. He was now a full blown bodybuilder and was nearly double my size. "Do you really think I'm hot?" "I think you're the hottest guy I've ever seen. You're like an Adonis." "Thanks, Ian. That's the best compliment I've ever received." He started to grind against me even harder and his body grew again. He was now so big, he was crushing me. His growth stopped after a few minutes and he looked like a bodybuilder now. His clothes were practically skin tight and I could see every muscle through it. He was covered in sweat and breathing heavily. "I feel so weird. I think I'm supposed to get mad at you for doing this to me, but I can't seem to do it" "Don't worry about it. I want you to enjoy yourself." "I am. You're right. I am the hottest guy you've ever seen, aren't I?" "Yeah, you are." He started grinding against me again and I wrapped my arms around his huge body "I want you to flex out of your clothes", I said. He started flexing and his clothes tore under the pressure of his muscles. Soon he was naked except for his boxers and I could see his huge, eight pack abs and his huge pecs. His body was perfect. He was perfect. "Do you want me to do anything else?" he asked. "Do you want me to worship your muscles?" "Yeah. You should worship my muscles." I started to kiss his huge bicep. It was so big, I couldn't even reach all the way around it with both hands. "Do you want me to flex for you?" "Yeah, show me what you got." He started to flex his arm and I could see his muscles bounce and grow. His arms were so big they looked like they were about to rip out of his skin. "Do you want to touch them?" "Yeah, I do." I started to touch his pecs and he felt my hands against his chest. His pecks were so big and round, I couldn't even fit my hand around it. "Do you want to touch my abs?" "Yeah, I do." I started to touch his 8-pack and he felt my hands against his stomach. His abs were rock hard and covered in sweat. "I want you to wrap your muscles around me" I said. He started to flex and his muscles started to wrap around me. His arms wrapped around my back and his pecks were pressing against my chest. "I want you to squeeze me" He started to flex and his muscles started to squeeze. I could feel his huge pecs pressing against me as he wrapped his arms around me. He was so big and strong, I felt so small and weak compared to him. I pulled him into a deep sloppy kiss. I can't believe I'm making out with my brother. This was wrong, but it felt so right. I felt his huge muscles against my body and I felt so small and helpless compared to him. "I want you to dominate me" I said. He started to flex again and his muscles got even bigger. He was so big and muscular, he looked like a professional bodybuilder. He picked me up with one hand and threw me against the wall. I felt my back hit the wall so hard, it knocked the wind out of me. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked. "No. Don't stop." He pinned me against the well and we started making out again. He was so big and strong and I was so small and weak, I felt so helpless under his powerful body. I put my hands on his bulge and felt his monster. It must've grown a few more inches and it was noticeably thicker. I stated giving him a handjob through his underwear and he started to grow even more. It was so big now, it looked like it was about to rip through his underwear. "Do you want me to take it out?" "Yeah. I want you to take it out." I pulled down his underwear and took out his huge monster. It was so big, fat, and long. I put my hand at the base and couldn't fit my hand around it. I started to stroke it and it started to grow bigger. I don't know how someone so big and muscular can have a weiner that big. He put me down and I started focusing on his cock. It was so big and fat, I couldn't fit my mouth around it. I tried to deepthroat it, but I couldn't even get the head in. I started to give him a handjob while I sucked, but his huge head kept hitting the back of my throat and I started to choke. "Do you want me to stop?" "No. Don't stop." I kept on trying to fit his huge head in my throat, but I just couldn't do it. I started to give up and he grabbed my head and pushed it down his huge rod. I felt my throat start to expand as his huge head pushed down my throat. He kept on pushing and I kept on trying not to choke. He was so big, my eyes started to water as he kept on pushing. I felt his huge hairy legs against my shoulders and his huge bulging arms against my head. I deepthroated all 14 inches of him and he kept it there for a few seconds. I started to choke as I tried to breath, but he kept his hips still so I wouldn't struggle. He pulled out slightly and then rammed it back in. He did this a few times and each time he thrusted, my eyes started to water even more. He then grabbed the back of my head and started to face-fucking me. He kept on pushing in and pulling out, each time a little faster. With every thrust, I could feel his huge heavy ball hitting my chin. "Do you like my big hard meatstick?" "Mmmm...hah...yeah...I love it..." I managed to say with his huge rod in my mouth. He kept on face-fucking me and with every thrust, I could feel my eyes rolling to the back of my head. He kept on thrusting and I started to feel something was building up. With every thrust, I could feel my muscles tensing up. "I'm gonna...I'm gonna..." He kept on going and with one final hard thrust, I felt my muscles release as I started to squirt. I squirted all over his chest and mine. He kept on thrusting as I kept on squirting. He then grabbed my head and started to thrust even faster. "I'm gonna squirt, you want it in your mouth or on your face?" "Mmmm...in my mouth." He thrusted a few more times and I felt his huge heavy ball tighten. He rammed it one last time as I felt his squirt enter my mouth. It tasted really bitter, but I managed to gulp it down as he kept on squirting. He pulled out and I could feel his squirt dripping out of my mouth. It felt so warm and sticky. "You like that?" "Mmmm...yeah..." He sat down on the bed as he grabbed my head and started to kiss me. His tongue entered my mouth as I could still taste his squirt. "You wanna grow bigger?" I asked. "Yeah, I do." "Well, come on then. Let's do this." I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bed. I laid down as he got on top of me. He started to kiss me as I could feel his huge bulge rubbing against my stomach. "I want you to grow while you fuck me" I said. He lifted up my legs as he started to push himself in. He started to push and I could feel him entering me. It started to hurt as his huge head pushed through. He kept on pushing as I felt it go in even more. It felt so tight around his head that he couldn't push anymore. "It's too tight, you can't go in." "Yes I can, don't worry." He pushed a little more as I felt my muscles start to give away. It started to hurt as he kept on pushing. I felt his huge head go in as I winced in pain. He pushed a little more as I felt my muscles give away completely. "It's in." He started to thrust as he kept on going in and out. It felt so tight around his head that he couldn't keep the same rhythm. He kept on going as I felt his huge head hit against my walls. It felt so tight that he couldn't keep the same rhythm. He thrusted a few more times and I felt his huge head go all the way in. "It's all the way in." I pulled his huge body onto mine and kissed him. "Now grow" I said. He started to thrust in and out as his huge member started to grow. It grew longer and thicker as I felt my insides stretch to accommodate his growth. He kept on thrusting as it kept on growing. It felt so tight around his growth that he couldn't keep the same rhythm. His body started growing as well. His muscles started bulging as his shoulders widened. He kept on thrusting as he grew taller. His biceps grew as his arms increased in size. His legs grew as his thighs increased in size, his calves grew as his feet increased in size. His rhythm got faster as he got bigger. "I love you, big bro" I said. "I love you too, lil bro" he replied. He kept on thrusting as his growth started to slow down. He was now a two feet taller than me and thrice my size. His arms were as big as my legs and his chest was wider than my torso. He thrusted a few more times as he was about to explode. "I'm gonna come" he said. "Come inside me, please." He kept on thrusting as he exploded. It felt so warm as he kept on coming. He came for about a minute as I felt his seed fill me up. It felt so warm that I couldn't feel anything else. He finished and kept on thrusting as he was about to come again. "I'm gonna come again" he said. He kept on thrusting as he came again. His seed filled me up as I felt my stomach expand from the inside. He pulled me into a deep kiss and pulled his now 16 inch cock out of me. "I love you" he said as he knelt down and licked my bulging belly. He licked all of his seed as he took it all. I felt his tongue go in and out as he cleaned all of it. He kept on licking as I felt his tongue enter me. He kept on licking as I felt his tongue massage my insides. He finished and licked my lips clean. "I love you" he said as he licked my face. He licked my whole face as I felt his tongue go all over my body. He stopped licking and kiss me. We laid down side by side as he wrapped his arms around me. "I'm gonna protect you forever" he said. We fell asleep as we kept on holding each other. The next morning, I woke up and saw him staring at my face. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked. "I dunno, you're just really pretty." I felt his huge arm wrap around me as he pulled me into a deep kiss. "I love you" he said. "I love you too" I replied. We laid down side by side as we kept on holding each other. "You know, Ethan, as much as I like you being huge, people at campus will start to get suspicious" "You're right. People will lose their shit if they see me standing at 7'9 and weigh close to 400 pounds", he said "Yeah. So I'm gonna put you in a trance again. Is that okay?" "That's fine" he said. I started the process and said "Deep sleep" He's in a deep hypnotic trance now. "Your body will shrink down to 6'4, and your weigh will be reduced to 250 pounds of solid muscle. Your cock will shrink to 11 inches. You will grow back to this size whenever we have sex" His body started to shrink until he was 6'4 and 250 pounds. I snapped my fingers and he regained consciousness. He looked down at his body and said, "Hey, this isn't my old size" "I know, I made you bigger. I added another inch in height and a few more pounds in muscle" I said. He looked at me and smiled. "I like this size", he said. "Well, we better go to class now" I said. We got up and got dressed. He drove us to school and only a few people noticed his slightly bigger body. He kept on smiling the whole time. "Why are you smiling?" I asked. "I dunno, I just feel really happy", he replied. We got to school and went to our first classes. He'll be representing our college with his team in a football tournament this year and I wanted to make sure he looked his best. He was already 6'4 and 250 pounds of solid muscle. His arms, chest, and legs were all bulging with muscles. He had a deep voice that could charm anyone. His face was gorgeous and his eyes were like the ocean. He was perfect. The end.

Ever since Adam was a boy, he wanted to be attractive. Not just good enough to have a partner, but the most perfect adonis the world had ever seen. He longed to put the male models, the movie-stars, and the statues to shame. He had a vision of a 6'2 man with a jawline of marble and deep eyes; but what he wanted most was that body, the muscles of a Greek god, with barely an ounce of fat to cover them so every contour and muscle could be seen when he flexed, which this character often did. Early on in his life he knew he liked men as well as women, but he didn't want a model, he wanted a short little twink who would worship his body and nestle into his mass of muscles. Adam's fantasy began to really show when he entered his teenage years, but he soon tried to accept that it was a fantasy. He was only 5'9, and he still looked like a stick; he had a jawline and a thick head of hair, and he could have a girlfriend or boyfriend if he wanted one, but the male model of his dreams seemed a million miles away, even if he got into the gym. However, one evening, he discovered a peculiar ability. The bullies at his school had begun targeting the short kids; and despite the fact he wasn't even that short, Adam found himself in the firing line. After an especially had episode, he found himself lying on his bed, wishing he were taller. In that moment, he did more than fantasize, he pled to whatever power may be out there to alleviate the mockery he recieved. After a few minutes, his legs began to tingle and burn as if they were being exercised really hard, followed by a feeling Adam had never experienced before, like his legs were in a box and were fighting for more room. He kicked furiously to try and sooth whatever this pain was, but it didn't stop, and there seemed to be more weight behind every kick. When the feeling subsided, Adam tried to rush to the mirror, but stumbled over his own legs, before he could see himself. The difference was immediately apparent; the top of his head was now cut off in the mirror, and anyone would have noticed how he looked lankier than before. He stood next to the notches on the door frame his mother had made to mark his height, and sure enough, he was a good three or four inches taller than the latest notch made only a month ago. Adam began to panic, this wasn't what he wanted. How could be explain suddenly growing overnight? He's heard of growth spurts, but this was absurd. It was at that moment that the sound of the door opening came from downstairs, and Adam's father walked in. Adam's panic went into overdrive, what would be say? In a flash, Adam was face to face with his father, nervously shifting back and fourth out of fear. But, the only weird thing noticed was how his son seemed so agitated. Adam breathed a sign of relief, but he was still certain his colleagues at school would notice how he'd grown. He barely slept that night, imagining what people would say. When he woke up the next morning, he went right back to worrying. However, he couldn't remember exactly how much he'd grown. He remembered he had, and recalled the burning feeling in his legs, but was he 5'7 or 5'9 before? When he went into the school halls, not a word was uttered about his growth, even when he passed the bullies, they didn't even register him. As time went on, Adam forgot his life in average height. He never forgot that he made himself grow, but in his memory, he remembered family members commenting on how tall he was getting or how he stood over friends instead of seeing eye to eye with them. It was a thoroughly bizarre experience, so much so that he tried to forget all about it. Even if he was still miles away from his male-model fantasy, he at least had the height. Years passed, and Adam went off to a good university. He left his old life as the awkward lanky, quiet kid behind, and wanted to be more confident. But, his old fantasy still chased him. People were leaving the remnants of puberty behind, and some looked like the dream men he wanted to be. Not to mention the available women and twinks who went towards those who looked like his fantasy. The frustration mounted and mounted until one day, he snapped. He never forgot about his ability, no matter how much he tried to rationalise it. He went into his tiny room in accommodation before falling on his bed, just like he did a few years earlier, and began to plead. The years of looking at pictures of those he wanted to be like had culminated in this. Over the years, he'd compiled an image of his perfect body, and begged whatever force had caused him to grow before. At first, he felt nothing, and the feeling that the whole thing had just been in his head crept in. But, just as Adam was about to get off the bed, the feeling returned. His scalp tingled as if it was being massaged, and he felt as his hair became thicker and silkier; running his hands through it was such a calming experience. The feeling moved down to his head, and the feeling turned to a burning as his bones began to reshape; his head grew and his brow jutted out as his jaw expanded. The features of his face changed; his eyes felt as if hot water had been thrown into them as they became deeper set and changed to a deep blue colour, his nose hurt and his lips ached as they became softer and kissable. Every imperfection in his skin from the acne scars from his youth to his dark spots faded, his face now had a healthy glow. Then the thing he'd really been waiting for, his body. Once his neck expanded a little, his shoulders felt as if he were carrying weights on them as his arms got further apart and the bed seemed to get smaller. His biceps and triceps grew to the point where he felt them lightly pressing against the rest of his body even while lying down, his forearms grew to the size of tree branches, and his hands grew but enough to grasp his new meatier arms. His back muscles looked like a winding map as what little body fat he had melted away from his face and down. Adam could barely contain his excitement as his chest started to burn and his pecs began to swell; he'd always been most fixated on the chests of the men in the magazines, and now he had his own sturdy balls of muscle. The slight gut he had was now gone and taught skin stretched over his pale belly remained, until a set of three pairs of abs burrowed their way forward and protruded out to give him a wash-board six-pack. His already thin waist cut down to form a v-line that was a work of art. His legs became two strong trunks, accented by a large and muscular butt. Once his feet finished straining in their socks, a recognisable burning returned as he grew to 6'4 tall, two inches taller than his fantasy. The process was finished off by a light tingle all over as most of his body hair from his eyebrows to his waist fell away, then his skin went from pale to a glowing, slightly-tanned appearance. When he was certain it was all done, Adam rose from the bed that could now barely contain him, once again having to find his feet with his new height. When he stripped down naked and made it infront of the full-length mirror, he felt like a God among men. He blew every single one of his expectations out the water; while he was exactly like his fantssy, it looked so much better in reality. His dreams had become reality. This felt like his true form. Adam showered and went out into the public. He darted into the first barbers he found and got a stylish haircut that showed and framed his face perfectly before heading to the high-end clothes shops in the city. He used every spare penny he had to get himself a new style and gym membership (he needed to keep up appearances); his clothes deliberately clung to his body to show off every muscle. Even with strangers, people stopped and stated at him, people treated him better. Adam was on top of the world and he was never coming down. He went out with a few friends he'd made in university to a party. Since his friends had last seen him, Adam had become indistinguishable from who he was before, but they treated him as if he'd always looked this way. The second Adam entered the room, people turned to look at him; women and a few men seemed to naturally flock to him, laughing at every joke from his deep voice, and taking every opportunity to touch the muscles that bulged from his new sharp clothes. He proceeded to court a stunning woman from the party without even trying, with his new natural confidence making him irresistible. When he brought her back to his room, they were tearing each others clothes off in seconds, only stopping so Adam could dart into the bathroom upon realising he'd forgot about what lay under his briefs. When he walked out, he had a raging eight-inch erection, and the two people who were strangers a few hours ago had mind-blowing sex before collapsing onto the bed that barely even took up Adam's size alone. When Adam awoke and saw his new friend on her way, he thought about the events of yesterday. He knew he'd change, and had some outline of what he looked like before, but when he thought back, he remembered going to the gym after school, how he was one of the tallest kids in class, how rumours seemed to circulate every week about a female classmate who had a crush on him. He was almost certain that even if he'd changed, he hadn't changed that much, only giving himself a bit of a boost. Adam soon found plenty of modelling jobs coming in when he put himself out there, even receiving some offers before. He was mainly concerned with his studies, but it was a fun side job. His favourite and speciality was underwear modelling; it brought him such satisfaction to strip down to a pair of tight briefs that hugged his massive package and bubble butt, showing off his perfect body with the knowledge that he'd be seen by thousands of hungry eyes. Also, there was always one or multiple people at every shoot who would be desperate to have him. After university, even when he got a regular job, the modelling continued. He didn't care about being spotted by his colleagues dressed in little more than small piece of fabric. He was such a star on the scene, he got away with a bit more muscle with some scruff around his face and chest than his contemporaries, it drove his fans wild. He relished the attention he got on Instagram, beaming ear to ear when he read the comments thirsting over him. It seemed like Adam's life was on a clear path, but things were about to change when he met Sammy. There was a big advertising campaign around some new line of men's aftershave, and the company was prepared to pay a hefty some to get an attractive beefcake for the TV adverts. Adam committed more time for the gym in preparation for the job, and was the most muscular he'd ever been when he stepped on set in a ridiculously tight shirt that showed off his arms and pecs. Sammy was an actor in an extra roll of the advert, an wanted to catch a glimpse of the famous model he'd seen pictures of. When Adam was finished, his eyes fell on Sammy, who he thought was a cute little twink like he'd imagined. The two casually chatted, thrilled they'd got the attention of the other, and hit it off. They were the couple they'd both dreamed of, almost. As happy as they were together, as much thrill as it brought to call them boyfriend and boyfriend, their fantasies were not quite matched. Sammy was 5'8 with a skinny-fat body, and worshipped his boyfriend's body, but Adam couldn't escape the feeling that he could get more. One night, when Sammy was asleep, Adam was wide awake crafting the perfect partner. Then, he began to plead once more, and to his surprise, he could change Sammy as he did with himself. Firstly, Sammy's head began to change, his features became a bit softer and better proportioned. Then, his body began to shrink as the body fat melted off and he began to lose height down to 5'7, then 5'6, then 5'5, and eventually stopping at 5'4, an entire foot shorter than Adam. Finally, what little body hair he had began to fall away until he was as smooth as an egg below his eyebrows. In his sleep, Sammy tossed and turned from the strange sensation, but when he woke up a few hours later, he was oblivious to the fact something has changed, and so was the rest of the world. Sammy was Adam's perfect boyfriend, the man he dreamt of. This was Sammy's true form. There was one more change for the couple, the most radical one indeed, as Sammy's true desires for Adam became clear. Adam was one of the most attractive men in the world, he would turn heads wherever he went, he commanded such respect, he had photo-shoots and interviews from magazines constantly, but Sammy's desires were a little different. He always thought his boyfriend was attractive, but the men he was truly obsessed with were the true muscle gods, the bodybuilders. He wished his boyfriend would spend more time in the gym in the hopes that he could be held by a true obelisk of muscle, but he could only fantasize when enveloped by the vast body of Adam. However, when he wanted to see what Sammy was looking for in terms of men on the internet, Adam snuck a look on Sammy's phone. He expected to see men like himself, and he did if he went far back enough, but what he saw in the recent searches was giant bodybuilders with muscles that were far bigger than his own. Adam felt gutted, knowing that he wasn't living up to the greatest fantasies of the man he loved. He pushed the hair he was growing out for a new style out of his face, and made a decision. It would mean drastically changing his life, and he would lose the some of the luxuries he'd had as a model, but for Sammy it was worth it. That evening, after Sammy had gone to bed, Adam began pleading for the last time. He was more nervous for this than any of the others, but the changes still happened. First his neck began to change, filling out his chiseled jaw somewhat, then his shoulders began to grow as they'd done years ago. His pecs swelled like balloons to the point where Adam could barely clap his hands together. His biceps and triceps grew to the size of various sport balls, and another pair of abs emerged in his core. His legs burst out, ripping a seam out of his trousers, and the already tight shirt burst open to reveal the body of a superhuman. The arm and leg hair that was so maligned in the modelling world returned with a vengence along with some new chest hair; this was unusual for bodybuilders but Adam was between competitions. Then, for good measure, the snake in his trousers burrowed a few inches further and balls grew to sizeable weights. Suddenly Adam's life changed. He'd practically lived in the gym for years, doing his homework in the gym, making friends in the gym instead of at parties, and making connections with his fellow bodybuilders. All those photoshoots and interviews weren't about modelling, they were for fitness magazines and bodybuilding forums. Of the heads he turned in the street, only some were lusting over his body, but most wanted to see the towering mountain of muscle. His Instagram followers were of a different crowd, fitness enthusiasts, and fetishists like Sammy. Adam liked the new him in the mirror, while the old him may have been a man, he was playing a boy's game. He marvelled every time he flexed, which he barely had to do see an array of muscles pop out. The only sign of his past life that remained was his hair, still grown out in a pretty-boy style. He was desperate to complete this look, so he grabbed the clippers he used on his beard and have himself a number 3 all around. The look was finished, a perfect masculine superhuman. This was it, his true form. When Sammy saw his boyfriend the next morning, his eyes lit up in a way Adam had never quite seen before. "Wow, you cut you're hair. It looks so good with your muscles, that old style was getting a bit femme." Sammy crawled into Adam's body, the two perfectly nestling into each other. "Thanks babe, you make it all worth it." Adam replied, finally satisfied.

Hey all, enjoy my entry to the storiversary! No muscle in this one (sorry!) but don't worry if this is well-received I'll continue it further to what I already have in mind as the next step in the transformation which does definitely include muscle! If you don't like cum or it's not your thing probably best to skip this story. I know it has a slow start but keep in mind I had to set-up the whole process and instigating incident. Feedback is GREATLY appreciated. Thank you! -HistoryBuff1812 Loaded HistoryBuff1812 Jakey had always been a small guy. Even now at 18 and about to start his senior year, the scrawniness of his five-foot-seven frame occasionally caused passersby to take a second look just to make sure what they were seeing was real. He didn’t look sick, he was perfectly healthy, he was just, small. All throughout his school years Jakey was basically invisible as he didn’t play sports or join any clubs or excel at anything really. He was simply average and- in his own mind- painfully so. What bothered him the most was how skinny he was. The joke going around among his classmates was that the reason he was so invisible is because as soon as he turned sideways no one could see him. He had tried to pack on weight by eating until he felt like he would vomit and doing push-ups at home in his room but he had resigned to the fact that his metabolism was just too fast, it burned off everything he ate no matter how dense or calorie-filled. But just because he had resigned himself to this fate didn’t mean he was happy about it nor did he give up all hope that it might be different one day. It was about two weeks before the semester started when Jakey got a text from his closest, and if he was being honest his only, friend Cody complaining of his endless boredom for the Nth time. After a few ignored texts his phone started to ring and out of obligation he picked up. “Bro I’m soooooooooooo bored, pay attention to me!” Jakey exhaled heavily, “I know, I saw your texts, why don’t you play a game or watch a movie or something?” “Because that’s boooooring. Come on, let’s go do something let’s go exploring we haven’t done that in a while.” Again, Jakey sighed, “yeah because the last time you made me go into an abandoned subway tunnel and the bats living there didn’t appreciate it.” He subconsciously looked up to make sure they still weren’t chasing him. Cody stifled a laugh on the other end and responded, “Ok, Ok, that was a one-time event, I have the perfect spot in mind it’s been abandoned for like 50 years and it’s in the middle of nowhere and it’s above ground!” The line was quiet for moment before Jakey finally huffed and replied; “Fine.” Cody’s rusting pick-up truck came to a halt on the gravel of the driveway kicking up a cloud of dust and vibrating with the bass of an old pop-punk song. Jakey hopped up into the passenger seat and instantly locked eyes with his friend. He always loved looking at Cody’s eyes because they were so unique, they were a vivid amber, a color he had never seen on anyone else and something he envied because of his own ordinary brown ones. Coupled with the fact that he was a full head taller and his brawny frame and Jakey had known for a while he was in love with his best friend. They both started to move in closer, playing the game of chicken they always did when they met-up in person. They leaned farther over the center console their faces getting within inches but just before their lips might have touched Jakey pulled back earning a big grin and a laugh from the other boy. “You always flinch man it’s too easy, what are you afraid you might like it?” He laughed again, put the truck in gear and started driving down the road that led away from town. They talked as the light pollution from the center of town faded and the only thing illuminating the road was the trucks headlights and an occasional flash of heat lightening. “So, what exactly is this place you’re taking me to, have you been there before?” Jakey eventually asked, it had been a good half hour since they left. “Well. . . No. I haven’t been to this place before, but I saw it on this old map my Dad has in the garage all it says is on it is ‘Restricted Area.’” Cody’s voice hesitated towards the end. As soon as he heard the word ‘restricted’ Jakey, ever the cautious type, blew a gasket, “What! You mean you don’t even know what kind of place this is or if we might get arrested as soon as we get out of the car!?” “Relax pussy, like I said it’s been abandoned for forever and look here it is and there’s no one here.” He finished his sentence as he turned down a hidden driveway that anyone driving by would pass by without noticing, unless they were looking for it. They passed a decaying sign with half of its wording removed but Jakey could make out ‘Fort ----- U.S. Arm’ and the driveway led to a tiny encampment that was equally as decrepit as the sign. With the trucks high-beams on he could make out a handful of buildings; two long ones with evenly spaced windows-barracks Jakey guessed, a two-story building with aa bare flagpole in front, and a small shed-looking structure to the side and back of it. All of them had broken glass for windows, collapsing roofs, and worn walls. All of them except for the shed. Cody parked the truck in between the flagpole and the taller building, grabbed one of the flashlights from glove box-while reaching over and grazing his friend’s crotch with his arm, and stepped out of the driver’s seat yelling “Come on!” to Jakey after he slammed the door. The peer pressure was too much to resist and Jakey followed his lead in grabbing a flashlight and following him out into the humid night. “Kinda small for an army base right? Like, how many guys could you fit in here?” Cody wondered aloud while shining his light through every broken window he could find only to find the shadows of cobwebs and rusting metal furniture in its illumination. Jakey was quietly wondering the same things and to fill the silence he added, “Yeah maybe they meant ‘Fort’ as a joke ha!” The laugh was nervous, and fake. “And what’s out here that needs protecting? This is the middle of fucking nowhere.” These questions repeated themselves over and over in his mind while the heat lightning above got more frequent with a few rolls of thunder added in. They walked around the place, checked out the insides of the buildings which only disappointed Cody with their emptiness and rotting furniture. Jakey was getting bored and was still uneasy about the whole venture so he suggested it was time to go. “Alright alright, you win we’ll check out that shed thing and get out of here,” he said in defeat, Jakey couldn’t help but smirk to himself in his victory. The shed had no windows and unlike the other buildings it looked solid, the roof and walls seemed untouched by time and there was a padlock on the metal door, the only opening to the otherwise solid concrete cube. “Well it’s locked, that’s too bad guess we’ll never know what’s in there,” Jakey said, feigning disappointment. But before he could finish his sentence for Cody to hear it the other boy was running jogging back to the truck and reaching over the side into the bed fishing around for something, which gave Jakey an excellent view of his friends ass in the ripped jeans that clung to it-something that he tried not to look at too intensely. He walked back with a pair of bolt cutters, flashed Jakey and big smile, and cut the padlock with ease. As punishment for his disbelief Cody pushed his friend gently into the shed and followed right behind their flashlights eagerly moving around to reveal… nothing. Once again, there was nothing but emptiness, a room lined with rusting storage shelves that were all totally bare. “There you have it Cody, buddy, a whole lot of nothing and whatever the Army was doing out here, which was probably just some sort of forest training, we’ll never know for sure and is long over.” He could feel his crushes’ angry frown even if he couldn’t see it. He let him walk out first, his shoulders slumped in disappointment and followed him towards the door when his shoe caught on a loose nail causing him to fall very ungracefully onto the wooden floor. “Fuck Jake are you alright man?” Cody only used that name when he was really concerned for his friend. Jakey took stock of himself and his body and finding nothing amiss replied confidently, if a little humbly, “yeah I’m ok just a scrape, I’ll be right behind you.” Convinced, Cody resumed his walk to the truck. As he was getting up, Jakey’s flashlight caught the slightest flash of something peeking out from behind the door that was now open against the interior wall of the shed. Curious, he peeked behind it and saw what the cause was. There on the ground was a small wooden crate, the size of a square tissue box with two score medical vials filling it up. The vials contained a bright red effervescent liquid that shimmered in the light. Entranced by their glow, he picked one up and turned it slowly in his fingers watching the liquid inside flow back and forth. He looked for any sort of labeling on the crate but there was nothing there and the only thing the vials had on them was ‘XPNTL.’ “Hurry up bro you know I have a curfew!” Cody yelled from the truck and punctuated it with a few honks of his horn. This startled Jake which caused him to drop the crate and the vials shattered, spraying Jakey with the red liquid that turned out to be an intensely sticky substance. Because he was wearing only shorts and a tank top his bare skin was coated with the stuff and he was grateful he only felt a few drops hit his face, that would not have been fun to deal with otherwise. Once he had taken stock he yelled back “Coming!” and made his way back to the passenger seat of his buddy’s truck. With the cab lights on Cody could see that his friend was distinctly redder than he remembered. “What the fuck happened Jake, is that blood!?” Cody was practically hysterical. “I tripped, it’s just some sort of mud I fell into.” He lied, not wanting to worry his friend and just get home as soon as possible to shower off whatever he was covered in. Cody seemed to believe it and began driving them home, the cab light faded out and the darkness returned to the point where neither boy could see the other in any great detail. The ride home seemed to take much longer, Jakey wondered if his friend was driving slower but he decided it was nothing and he was just being a little paranoid. Along the way the red substance slowly seeped its way into his pores and through his skin, without his notice. They talked some more with Cody doing most of it and Jakey occasionally zoning out, but he was brought back to reality once he realized that at some point in their journey, he had popped a boner. It happened often when he was around Cody, his teen hormones betraying him, but he had never been caught and he was glad his secret crush couldn’t see it tenting his shorts in the dark. He tried his usual tricks of making his dick go soft, but none of them worked and in fact it seemed to get harder with every throb and pulse. He felt desperate to touch it and subtly started thumbing at it, making sure not to make too much movement so his friend might be tempted to look over at him. He kept this up for a few minutes, Cody as oblivious as ever, before he began noticing his dick wasn’t just harder than usual. It was bigger too. At first, he thought maybe it was because he hadn’t jerked off in a few days and he was so close to Cody, but his dick felt thicker than it ever had, even the few times he had tried a pump. This got Jakey insanely horny, he had always wanted a bigger cock and now that he knew what it felt like he was entranced. He got bolder with his movements, palming his ever-growing member which expanded with each immense throb. “Are you even listening to me man?” Cody unknowingly interrupted. Jakey was able to snap out of his lust, but just barely. He could only manage to vocalize a stifled “mhmmmm” which came out more like a moan than a response. At this, Cody looked over and saw what his friend had been doing for most of the ride and could barely believe his eyes. Even in the dark, the heavy bulge in Jakey’s shorts was unmistakable. Cody wanted to yell at his friend for jerking off in front of him and his beloved truck, but he was transfixed by the shear size of the thing. All he could manage to get out was a very weak, “Wh- what are you doing man. . .” as his eyes darted between the road and his best friend’s crotch. Jakey, still consumed in pleasure and not stopping his pawing at his dick, responded in a haze-like state, “Fuck I’m sorry bro but it’s just so hard and it feels so good to grab at.” Every few words were interrupted by a moan. Cody couldn’t fight the urge to just stop and stare any longer, he pulled over onto a side road and put the car in park, turning on his interior lights to see his friend fully. He was instantly transfixed on what he saw; Jakey had unzipped and unbuttoned his shorts to let the monster in his pants breathe and stretch. The white boxer-brief he was wearing was struggling to contain the growing beast and it wasn’t so much a tent anymore as it was a second skin clinging tight to his unbelievable manhood. A massive wet spot of precum was forming around the head and Cody watched in envy as every few seconds his newly impossibly-endowed friend would scoop up some drops of it that had made it through the fabric with his finger and lick it off with his tongue, always leading to a loud and satisfied “mmmmm” from Jakey who apparently enjoyed his own taste. Cody, still not wanting to believe what he was seeing with his own eyes, tried to laugh it off by making a joke, “I didn’t know you were so hung buddy haha!” Without skipping a beat Jakey responded with a primal feeling of dominance that he didn’t know he had in him, “I wasn’t,” he flashed his crush a devilish smile, “but I am now.” And with that he moaned loudly as another large throb hit his dick, adding what Cody could only guess was a half-inch to its already ruler-like length. At that point the cheap underwear couldn’t hold any longer and it ripped right from the head and downward. Cody gasped when the whole thing burst from the tear. His friends formerly below-average member was now easily a foot long and he wondered if even one of his big hands would be able to make it halfway around the veiny thickness of it. His mouth had started to water at some point during the whole ordeal while Jakey finally let go of any remaining inhibitions and started frantically jerking off his new favorite toy with both hands, using the precum leaking steadily from its tip as lube. His moaning was getting louder and by this time Cody was hard too, which he didn’t notice as all his attention was fixed at the raw sexuality on display next to him. The truck windows were fogged up with the boys’ heavy breathing and the remains of Jakey’s briefs and his shorts were completely soaked through with his precum which was flowing in great streams. Jakey was moaning constantly and moving his hands up and down as fast as he possibly could, feeling his release building in his equally enlarged balls. Cody watched in awe as he sensed what was coming and stared intensely at the newest object of his desire as it throbbed with one great sure of blood. Jakey looked down at the huge mushroom head and saw it grow as he opened his mouth wide ready for the reward he had been desperate to get out of his heavy cock. He shouted a loud “Fuck!” as a thick rope of his seed shot out and splattered itself on the truck ceiling, followed by another and another before he wrestled control of his spasming dick and pointing his orgasm towards his waiting mouth. Every mammoth spurt filled his mouth almost entirely and he had balance his feelings of bliss with concentrating on swallowing the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, but even with this concentration there was just too much of it and it ran down the corners of his mouth dripping onto his tank top which he was sure would be permanently stained, but he couldn’t care less, he was in heaven. Cody involuntarily grabbed his own cock and the touch combined with watching the hottest thing he had ever seen was too much, he came instantly as his friend continued to shoot thick ropes of come all over his face. He must have counted almost two dozen before they died down and the rest started dribbling out coating the cockhead white. Jakey’s chest was heaving and he had his head thrown back as he panted, his eyes shut tightly as he continued to ride out the last waves of his orgasm. He stayed like that for a while before he finally heard Cody admit quietly, “fuck man, I don’t know what just happened… but it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. . .” “Yeah?” Jakey asked, incredulous, “Yeah…” Cody replied weakly. Jakey got another devilish smile on his face after seeing his friends stare was still stuck on his monumental cock. It was still hard as steel and precum had resumed spilling out of it, he could feel the churning in his balls where a new load was waiting to be coaxed out. Finally, after letting Cody look in awe for a few more seconds, he put his arm on the back of his crushes head and grabbed his hair tightly. The last things Cody remembered hearing before he experienced a real-life fantasy was Jakey’s voice commanding him; “Well then, buddy. Suck it. Now.”

Alright guys. Here it is. My contribution to storiversary. I honestly had a lot of trouble coming up with what to write and I feel like what I did come up with is a little fast paced, almost rushed. But if you don't like wasting time and getting right to the good stuff (muscle growth) then this story is for you. lol Enjoy! ************************************** Where to begin? Well, I guess the beginning. My buddy Nolan and I have been inseparable since birth. We went to the same elementary, middle, high school, we graduated together, and now we’re college roomies. We’d just gotten settled in to our new apartment on campus. Nolan was struggling to get his last box of supplies through the door. He finally plopped the box down in the living room with a loud thud and huffed loudly. The box couldn’t have weighed more than fifty pounds, but he was a little guy, barely 5’6”, no more than 140lbs soaking wet. He was a good looking dude in the youthful kind of way. He couldn’t grow a beard to save his life, so had long since embraced the baby face look. Although he had plenty of self-confidence in his looks, he was extremely self conscious of his size. He always wore extremely baggy clothes in an attempt to hide his frail physique. He had always wanted to play on the football team at school. Obviously, no coach was going to let a little shrimp like Nolan play. Unfortunately, he just didn’t have the willpower. He would hire the personal trainers, but wouldn’t follow through. He would start the meal plans, but not finish them. And I wasn’t any help. I didn’t hold him accountable. So by senior year, he had accepted his fate. He was doomed to be the skinny twerp for the rest of his life. What Nolan didn’t know, is that I’d been doing a ton of research in my spare time and I might have figured out a solution to all of his problems. Now, what I’m about to explain sounds crazy - absolutely impossible - but it’s not. I mean, yeah, it’s crazy, for sure, but somehow, entirely possible. I had stumbled upon a device that will allow me to channel my consciousness back in time. My plan is to travel back to various times in our past and impress upon Nolan to push himself harder and give him the push to grow far before he was really thinking about it. Hopefully, his genetics are only restricting him so much and a little extra inspiration will give him the push to actually put on some size. Hell, I would strap him down and force feed him if I needed to! But for now, back to reality. Unpacking. After several hours, we finally got the apartment looking somewhat like a home, with pretty much everything put in its place. We were both wiped out. But we were done. Nolan lifted up the front of his baggy shirt to wipe the sweat off his brow, uncovering his skinny abs. Jesus, I swear you could almost see his ribs underneath. We had some pizza delivered, chowed down, and Nolan stumbled to his room and passed out for the night. Classes didn’t begin for a couple of days, which was nice. We had a few days to get settled in. I went to my room and pulled the little device out of my pocket and stared at it intently. All I had to do was enter a date on the screen and place the device on my forehead and go to sleep and I would travel via my conscious back to whatever time I had entered. Obviously it had to be a time that I existed or I wouldn’t have a body to land in. I had decided on a date about five years ago, right before we were to finish 8th grade and start high school - the summer before. It seemed like a semi-pivotal point in our lives. I didn’t want to do anything too drastic to start so this seemed like the most straightforward option. I entered the date, stuck the weird device to my forehead and closed my eyes. I drifted off to sleep, and all of a sudden, I’m staring at adolescent Nolan, which unfortunately for him, wasn’t much different from adult Nolan. I blinked twice. Was I in a dream or did the device actually work? This felt so real. “Hello? Earth to James. Knock, knock! Anybody there?” Shit I had stared to long and zoned out. I snapped out of it and smirked at him. “Sorry man just thinking about how dope this summer is gonna be. We’re gonna get jacked this summer right?”, I joked. Nolan just laughed. “Yeah right dude. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? Mr. Jack Skellington, himself.”, he said as he gestured to his gaunt figure. “No man I’m serious. This time’s going to be different. I’m holding you accountable. We’re going to work out every day, and eat until we literally can’t eat anything else.” This would, hopefully, be the tipping point. So for the next month, I ripped into him. I forced protein shakes down his throat, dragged him to the gym, until he finally seemed to be less resistant to the whole thing. I had pushed it onto him just long enough where I think he started noticing the slightest of results, and that was all it took for him to be hooked. That was all I needed. As I went to ‘sleep’, in my dream state, I willed myself back to the present, which was an even weirder feeling than when I got here. I woke up with a start and checked my watch. I had been asleep for what literally felt like a month, but less than 5 seconds had passed in the present. I took off the device and actually went to sleep, anxious for what changes, if any, tomorrow would bring. ************************************** The sun peeked through the blinds, slowly waking me up from a great night’s sleep. I got rolled out of bed and walked to the bathroom. The cotton shorts I slept in felt different, like not tighter, but more fitted if that makes sense? I got to the bathroom and was shocked at the sight that greeted me. Now keep in mind, I was no slouch, weighing in at a solid 180lbs of toned muscle, but I was hardly considered buff. The beefcake attached to my head would beg to differ. I wasn’t huge, but I was definitely bigger than I’d ever been. There was no way I weighed under 215 now. My arms had more shape to them, my pecs cast the slightest shadow from their size. I couldn’t see it as much as I could feel it, but my butt was slightly bigger, pulling the fabric of my cotton shorts more tightly. My thighs were beefier, which would explain why my shorts felt different. They were wrapped tautly around my lower body now, accenting every bit of definition in my legs. I guess I didn’t really think about how changing the past would affect me. I had only thought about how it would affect Nolan, but it made sense. We were inseparable, so if he started working out and bulking up, I was going to be working out right next to him and pushing him harder and harder. I definitely wasn’t upset with the results. I casually started flexing my thicker arms, marveling at their size and their definition. I flexed my chest and bounced my pecs. I grinned viciously. I’d never been able to do that before. This was awesome. I threw on a t shirt, relishing in feeling of my new muscles pressing lightly against the fabric, and walked out of my bedroom to the kitchen to whip together some breakfast. My thoughts were starting to get scrambled, mixing the old reality with the new. My brain was automatically telling me I needed to make my “usual” healthy breakfast of 6 egg whites and a slice of whole wheat toast, but I also knew that I had never in my life made a breakfast like that. As I was cooking my eggs, I heard Nolan shuffle into the kitchen as well. I turned to look at him, excited about what changes I would be able to see. I was instantly met with disappointment. If he was different, it wasn’t noticeable underneath the still baggy clothes he always wore. His face looked a little more masculine and his neck seemed a bit thicker, but any other potential changes were hidden beneath those damned baggy clothes. He walked over to the fridge and pulled out the milk and made himself a protein shake. Hmmmm. Well that was definitely a change. He chugged the whole thing in one gulp and burped loudly, grinning stupidly. “Bruh you making enough for both of us? You know I’m trying for lineman by next season. Boy’s gonna have to pack on the pounds if I’m gonna be big enough for that!” said Nolan. Fuck, his voice was the slightest bit deeper now. And he’s trying to be lineman by next season? He was going to have to do more than just a little growing if he planned on being a lineman. “Uh…yeah man. I was gonna go ahead and cook the whole carton of eggs anyways…” I muttered, noting that my voice also had a deeper, richer tone to it as well. We ate our breakfast and next on our “daily routine” was the gym, of course. Man this was weird. So Nolan got up from the table, tossed his dish in the sink and headed to his room to change. And then, without a second thought, Nolan started to strip off his clothes. I didn’t even have time to react. Apparently he had gained a bit more confidence with these changes as well. Nolan was never one to just take off his clothes, even around his closest bro. Yet, here he was taking off every piece of clothing and tossing it wherever it landed as he walked to his room. The body that was hiding underneath those baggy clothes exceeded anything I could have imagined. He wasn’t huge, by any means. But he was a far cry from the shrimpy Nolan that I had grown up with - at least until last night. He had first peeled off the baggy hoody he had been wearing, which revealed a back so wide, so cut and defined, I’m sure you could break rocks against it. His thick back was capped with a pair of softball sized shoulders, toned with every striation visible. I got a glimpse of his biceps as he brought his arms back down, again, cut as fuck, and about the size of baseballs. His triceps had a nice horseshoe shape to them. Just as I was processing all of this, he hopped out of his sweatpants, revealing a pair of cut-as-fuck legs. Each thigh writhed and bulged with each step he made. His calves were just as cut and defined. His butt was hard as granite and straining his tighter boxer briefs. Overall, he had the look of a pro athlete now. Whatever I had done in the past, lit a fire deep inside of him and he had tightened up and grown his body to an unbelievable condition. He was a bonafide hunk! He reemerged from his room moments later in his workout gear, which was a drastic change from his usual garb. Each piece of clothing was pulled tight across each engorged muscle, straining the material just the right amount. The tightness of the clothing highlighted each of his muscles perfectly. He actually had the beginnings of a pec shelf bulging from the front of his shirt. He was mindlessly scratching at his midsection, which allowed me to get a peek at his ripped 8 pack abs. Fuck, he was a real beast now. I quickly snapped out of my stupor and ran and threw on some clothes as well. It was obvious he was waiting on me. So off we rushed to the gym. Everyone greeted us as if we were regulars there, which I guess we were in this new reality. Again, my brain is still adjusting to this shift. Apparently today was leg day. I just followed Nolan’s lead since I had no clue what we were doing. I had no recollection of my PRs or anything. But, as we started our workout all of this information started flooding my brain. By the time we were through the first workout, I had the knowledge of a seasoned lifter, but I still remembered how I didn’t have that knowledge just a few minutes ago. This is fucking weird. Anyways, we warmed up with regular squats, I found out my one rep max was 325lbs, which is just wild to me. Nolan’s was something like 375? I was loving the feeling of my pumped quads pressing tightly against my workout shorts, this all felt so new to me, and yet not at the same time. We powered through the most excruciating leg day I had ever experienced - squats, box squats, kettlebell lunges, dead lifts, leg press….we ended with calf raises. Devastated, we each stumbled our way out of the gym back to the car - the sign of a good leg day. My legs felt like they were about to explode from this unreal pump. We got in the car and I took note of how bloated Nolan’s legs looked now in his workout shorts. All definition had left and given way to the pump. Nolan caught me staring and just laughed and smacked each leg. “Fuck man the pump is too real today. Legs are lookin’ extra JOOCEEY.” he said, smirking. “Damn brah, I’m fuckin’ starvin’ man. Let’s go get some grub.” Something about Nolan’s personality was off to me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. He seemed more “broish” than normal? Eh whatever. Probably just the massive amounts of testosterone pumping through his veins after that insane workout. We hit up the nearest buffet and did some major damage. I felt like I had eaten a lot but jesus christ, Nolan put away the food. He ate more than I thought was possible for one human to consume in one sitting. He was like an animal. “Gotta grow man. My body's like a furnace, burning through all these calories. I gotta eat so I can grow.”, grumbled Nolan, in between mouthfuls of baked potato. Nolan eventually got full and we left the restaurant. His 8 pack abs were distended from the obscene amount of food he just put away, bulging out against his shirt. The remainder of the day was fairly uneventful, since school hadn’t started yet. We just lounged around the house, binged a few shows, ate more food if you can believe it. Eventually, it was time for bed again. I had gotten all the confirmation I had needed from today that this little experiment was a success and I knew I was just getting started. If Nolan wanted to be a linebacker, well. He was going to get that. This time, I had traveled back to a time when we were kids. I planned on making several stops this time. I didn’t spend as much time here as I did before. I just spent a couple of days and did nothing but talk about working out and muscles. I wanted to make sure Nolan got it engrained in his head that the only thing that matter was muscles and getting as massive as possible. I then travelled back to the same time I had gone to previously and was pleasantly surprised to see that version of Nolan looking pretty much like the present day Nolan did right now. This got me real excited. If he was already this big now, just how much bigger could he get in the next five years? I egged him on even more in this time period. He was all about dieting and nutrition and staying cut. I told him to fuck all that and just eat big and lift heavy weight. That should do the trick. I could hardly wait to see what kind of reality I was going to wake up to the next morning. ************************************** I awoke the next morning to a totally different apartment. The two bedroom apartment we previously had was now a loft. And it had a pungent scent to it that was inescapable - it reeked of pure masculinity. I blearily observed my surroundings before landing on a bed on the other side of the room. And in that bed was something otherworldly, absolutely massive. Whatever it was, was hidden underneath a ton of blankets, but It’s mass could not be hidden underneath the blankets, like a mountain rising out of the ocean. A deep, guttural moan came from across the room and the creature rolled over, causing the blanket to fall and I immediately gasped aloud. The face was almost unrecognizable, but it was definitely Nolan, albeit, a hyper masculine version of Nolan. He had a thick beard covering his face that was attached to a neck that easily outsized a telephone pole. His shoulders were almost comically large, stretching easily two feet in each direction. It was then that I noticed his twin sized mattress had been replaced with a king size mattress, and he still dwarfed even that. This titan, this beast across the room was Nolan - little shrimpy Nolan no longer existed in this reality. He had been replaced by a literal wall of muscle. I hadn’t been mentally prepared for this much of a change, so slight gasp managed to escape my mouth, causing the beast to stir. He groggily opened his eyes, seeing me stare wide-eyed at him from across the room. He began to shift and literally roll his massive body out of his bed. Only then was I able to take in the full extent of what I’d done. It seemed he had grown a couple of inches, somehow, putting him at around 5’8” now. How he had managed to pack such an obscene amount of muscle on such a short frame was beyond me. He was just about as broad as he was tall. His pecs had to completely obscure anything in his immediate vicinity. They bulged up and outwards to the point that he could easily rest his chin on the top of his pecs if he so desired. His nipples were completely hidden, having been pushed down and back from the immensity of the bulging globes of his chest. The thickness of his back forced his equally massive arms (easily 28 inches, cold) outwards at a 45 degree angle. The tight 8 pack I so fondly remembered yesterday was also long gone, replaced by a massive, bulging gut. I guess he took my “fuck clean eating” mantra to heart after all. He had the look of the largest, most off season bodybuilder you could imagine. Each of his legs were more massive than the size of his entire body had been previously. But these legs were not cut and striated, like they used to be. These legs were instruments of pure power, bulging with pure mass. The two thighs were at a constant battle for space, even with his gigantic feet planted 4 feet apart. As I stared at Nolan in pure awe and wonderment, I was instantly hit with all these new memories. I felt like my brain was going into overload, all the old memories overlapping with new memories and contradicting each other. I remembered Nolan as always being the tiny shrimpy dork, but then I remembered us deciding when we were kids that we wanted to be the biggest dudes ever and we had started working out religiously, Nolan absolutely blowing the fuck up once we hit high school. Yesterday he had finally clocked in at his goal of a massive 450lbs. My mind was working overtime right now to process everything, when the deepest, richest bassy voice sounded off across the room. “Buddy, bro you ok? You don’t look so great. I mean obviously you look GREAT but…” he chuckled, literally shaking the room with his booming voice. What did he mean I looked great? My memories continued to form and with wide eyes, I looked down. I was immediately met with a wall of flesh. Nolan, again, wasn’t the only one affected by my time meddling. I was fucking enormous. My chest was absolutely enormous, blocking my view of everything below me. The valley between them was so deep, you could lose a whole arm in there. I stared in awe at what little I could see of my incredible physique. My hands were so fucking thick now - the size of dinner plates. Each finger was thicker than a sausage. As I got out of bed, I now felt more and more how much weight had been added to my frame. I felt so damn heavy, yet each movement was easier than it had ever been. I had so much power now. I stood up and walked over to the mirror - well attempted to. My massive legs struggled to get around each other, which caused me to waddle awkwardly, but man I loved it. It felt amazing to just be taking up so much more space in the room. As I gazed upon my newly massive self in the mirror, I grew completely hard instantly. That’s when I noticed that my muscle wasn’t the only thing that had grown. My cock had grown to an inhuman 19 inches rock hard. It was wedged comfortably between my thick, juicy pecs. Where Nolan was an enigma of pure mass and power, I had dialed it in a little more. I was every bit as huge as Nolan, but I was also cut-as-fuck. The amount of definition I somehow still managed to show in each muscle while maintaining such a massive size was unheard of. What did he mean I looked great? I mean of course I looked great. All we did was eat and lift. What did he think would come of that? “Fuck bruh. I’m good. Real good. I’m feelin’ extra pumped today.” I marveled at the depth of my voice now - so deep and sexy. I made James Earl Jones sound like a little girl. “Fuck yah brah, lets go make some gains, my guy.” boomed Nolan. As my new memories continued to compile in my brain, clouding over the old ones, I realized that whatever changes I had made in the past had affected us so much, that we had actually dropped out of high school and devoted our entire lives to making gains, which is why the apartment had changed. We were no longer about to start college. We just rented a loft with an open floor plan because it best suited our massive sizes. I could literally feel the intelligence getting sucked out of my brain. Sure, we were probably now the two most massive alpha males to ever walk the planet, but at what cost? I had unintentionally turned the both of us into two hulking dumb brutes. But by now, I'm past regretting it. The new reality has just about taken over and all I can think about now is eating, lifting, and growing. Nolan threw on his workout clothes, which hardly qualified as clothes. There weren’t a whole lot of options to cover up something as massive as he was. He struggled to pull an XXXXL tank top over his thick head and stretched it over his enormous bulk. His enormous chesticles bulged out the sides of the tank obscenely and spilled out of the collar. The bottom half of the tank top was stretched across the vast expanse of his bulging gut. His “basketball shorts” (they would be if they were on a normal sized person) were his only option for pants at this point. It was the only material that would stretch and give enough to hold up against his titanic tree trunk legs and his enormous ass. They also needed to stretch across his crotch enough to hold the massive salami and orange-size balls he had too - I forgot to mention that. My cock is real big at 19 inches hard. It’s nothing compared to Nolan’s python. 24 fucking inches hard. TWO FEET. and 12 inches around. It’s as thick as a two liter bottle. His enormous hands could palm a basketball easily, and even then he had to use both of his hands to grope his thick cock. So between that giant hose and his big ole’ balls, his basketball shorts were looking pretty obscene. The fact that there is absolutely no space between his legs only amplifies the bulge in his shorts by pushing his massive junk forward even more. “Fuck man,” Nolan grunted, “These clothes are so damned tight. I’ll see ya there, my guy.” Finally dressed, er sort of, Nolan saunters out the door. I watch his thick ass and legs hungrily as he walks off - each muscle throbbing and writhing with each step. As massive as he was, every bit of that mass was needed to move such an immense amount of weight. The floor is actually shaking as he makes his way across the room, each step booming. I chuckled as I watched him trying to exit the building. We had had the door replaced with a double door since we’d gotten so big, but even then, at his current size, his massive shoulders still brushed both sides of the doorway at the same time. It wouldn’t be too much longer and he would need an even larger opening. As soon as he left, I scrambled to find the device. Given my new size, this was easier said than done. Even though most of the new reality and been set, my brain was still adjusting to how to maneuver all this mass the best way possible, so awkwardness. I knew we were already big enough - I mean we were pushing the limits of realistic size at this point, but there was a part of me that wanted to see Nolan even bigger. Like MASSIVE. I’m talking godhood - a giant. Also I was worried that if I waited much longer, I would be too dumb to even figure out how to work the device or remember that it even existed. So, I found the device and entered a time codes and popped it on before I could think about the ramifications of what I was doing and change my mind. First, I traveled to the future (weird right?) where new drugs and supplements had been developed to stimulate growth. Not just muscle growth, but height as well. The size I had in mind for Nolan required him to be much taller, otherwise he would just be a musclebound blob. This is where it gets complicated. Since only my consciousness traveled through time, I couldn’t just take the supplements with me. I won’t bore you with the details, so the short version is that I spent several months in the labs with the doctor that created these drugs and memorized the steps to recreate these drugs in the past, which was no easy feat with my increasingly diminishing IQ. I then traveled back to the time period I had originally traveled to, gained access to a lab and recreated the supplements. I gave them to Nolan and peaced out. Phew. This better be worth it. ************************************** As soon as I opened my eyes, this new reality hit me like a ton of bricks. There was no acclimating like the last times. My mind was immediately inundated with new memories. I remember Nolan giving me some pills back when we were kids. He said it would help us get bigger. I had been hesitant to take them at first, so Nolan was several doses ahead of me before I finally joined him. The result had been an explosive amount of growth that spanned the next five years. The loft was now a huge mansion with massive ceilings and entryways. In fact, everything about the mansion was supersized. It was supersized because we had to have a place built specifically for us because we were so fucking huge now. We were literal giants. Gods. I walked past a mirror and stopped to admire myself. I mean, it was hard not to do when you look like I do now. Every muscle on my body was so bloated and engorged with pure mass. I had a custom made towel that was the size of a bed sheet wrapped around my waist, and yet it did nothing to hide the mass that was underneath. Just this morning I clocked in weighing 935lbs at 11’5”. I was really hoping to hit quad digits soon. Like I said. Actual giant. We had ended up earning a fortune making cam shows. Obviously dudes our size were very rare and people paid just about anything to watch two muscle gods go to pound town. We were the only ones that could handle the other’s size after all. The doorbell rang. A little guy was at the door. I say little guy, because he was a little guy to us. To the standard person, he was a big dude. He was about the size of a pro bodybuilder. He must’ve been one of our “premium customers”. Jesus I forget sometimes just how big we are now. Seeing a full grown man barely come up to your waist, his entire body smaller than one of my titanic legs, really puts things into perspective again. “Bruh. Come in man. Are you ready for the time of your life or what?” The depth of my voice shook the poor guy to his very core. “uh-uh-y-y-y-yessir. I-I-I-I think I am.” the poor guy stammered. “What’s your name, little bud?” I asked. “B-B-B-Ben, s-s-s-s-sir.” He was frightened out his mind. I didn’t blame him of course. I could literally destroy him with the mere flick of a finger. I patted him on his head, my massive mitt engulfing it completely. I could honestly crush his head one-handed if I so desired. This kind of power was intoxicating. I watched his eyes grow wider and wider as I slowly removed the towel from my waist, unleashing the beast. My three foot cock sprang forward, smacking the little guy right in the face, knocking him backwards. The thing was nearly as big as he was, The head alone was much larger than the man’s fist. He stumbled back to his feet and something switched in him. All fear was gone as he literally leapt onto my massive cock and just started massaging it and sucking on any part of It’s surface he could attach himself to. I moaned in pure ecstasy as he continued to work his way up and down my member. As the moment of truth arrived, Ben clung to my dick for dear life as he literally felt it “charging up”. Just in time too, as I came almost right after. And when I say I came…I’m saying like a canon. A geyser of cum erupted from me that seemed to never end. The aftermath was quite messy. In the middle of the massive pool of cum sat my poor little muscle worshipper, Ben. The force of my cum explosion still managed to launch him off of my giant cock and into the torrential geyser of cum, but he seemed to be completely content. All of a sudden, there was the sound of thunder coming from the entryway to the house. Nolan was home. Around the corner came the men of all men. He was truly the reason we needed the giant-size house with the giant-size furniture. Even with the 15 foot ceilings, Nolan’s head still brushed the top. The extra wide hallways were still just barely wide enough to hold the giant behemoth. Even at almost 15 feet tall, he was just as wide and musclebound as ever. Last time we weighed in, he was over two tons of beef. Yes, it’s just as unbelievable as it sounds. As I had maintained my cut physique, Nolan had stuck with his off season look. It made him look even bigger. His enormous muscle gut was the only thing that bulged out far enough for him to see past his planet-sized pecs. Well that and his massive dick, but we’ll get to that. “Yooooo you must be Ben.” boomed Nolan with a toothy grin. “This is the lil guy who paid the big bucks to have a private sesh with us bruh!” Before Ben had time to react, Nolan had picked him up in one of his massive hands and just held him. He fit easily in one of his enormous palms, the size of a truck tire. Ben looked absolutely terrified but also completely turned on all at once. Nolan chuckled deeply, shaking the whole house and gently place him back on the ground. Ben was still in awe of the mass of muscle before him. Nolan’s calves, alone, were larger than Ben’s entire body. He barely came up to mid thigh on Nolan, which put him right at eye level with his “third leg”. Nolan’s cock was otherworldly. It was just about large enough to have It’s own zip code. It was as big around as a telephone pole and, last we checked, nearly six feet long. Meaning, Nolan’s cock was actually bigger than Ben was. The head of his cock was bigger than Ben’s own actual head. As soon as Ben made “eye contact”, it began to plump up and engorge with blood, growing even larger and getting harder. Ben then repeated the same process that he did with me, riding Nolan’s enormous cock and just writhing and licking and kissing all over it until Nolan erupted and a seemingly endless fountain of cum showered the entire living room. Ben spent the next couple of hours “playing” on us like we were a jungle gym. He climbed around each of our enormous bodies and worshipped just about every inch of our bodies until he could handle no more. He called his banker and had the $10,000 that we had requested wired directly to our bank account and he left, never to be seen again. As tired as he was, all of the activities of the day had been a mere warm up for us. So, after his departure we went at it like animals. Fucked for 3 hours straight. We almost destroyed the house. After all, there’s no gentle way for two giant masses of muscle to have consensual sex. In the afterglow of our night of pure ecstasy, I lay in our “bed”. I say bed but it was really the size of a normal room. Again, custom made. The thing still barely held Nolan, much less both of us together. I casually fondled his doorknob sized nipples as I reminisced on our incredible journey of growth together. Who knew five years ago, that we would ever end up so inhumanly massive, so powerful? Well apparently, I did, but I’d forgotten that already. This really was the life. I couldn’t possibly imagine life any other way. ************************************** Once Ben had gotten home from that absolutely wild day he had had, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a strange looking device. He had heard rumors of a device that had been invented that allowed you to manipulate reality via time travel. Very few of them were made, but he knew exactly what it looked like. So when he saw what looked like one on one of the tables at the giants’ house, he snagged the thing without a second thought when neither of the giants were looking. He fumbled with the parameters on the device and placed the device on his head, already imagining what wondrous changes he had in store for himself. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep with a grin on his face. THE END

Grow Up! A collaboration between myself and Aardvark. This story was altered from its original form and updated. – “Porter!” Silence. “Porter!!!” Silence. “HEY!!! PORTER!!!!!!” “WHAT?!” Porter appeared at the top of the stairs, staring down in anger at his little brother Bode at the foot of them. “WHAT, BODE? The house better be on fire!!!” “I wanna play the Playstation.” “You have seen me set it up for you ten. Thousand. Times. Why can’t you do it yourself?” Porter said with a huge amount of annoyance as he trudged down the steps. “I always mix up the cables,” Bode shrugged, completely without remorse. The family entertainment center was a bit out of date. The amount of cording behind the television was enough to confuse even the most adept of techies. In the bedroom, Freddie rolled his eyes and set his phone on the bed. He and Porter hadn’t really been doing anything. Just laying back and shooting the shit about what they wanted to do over their last summer before senior year. So far, the only exciting thing was Harry Greco’s big party this Saturday. Because of Bode, they couldn’t just do whatever – he couldn’t be left home alone. Seriously, if the kid could just be a tiny bit older, Freddie and Porter’s lives could be so much easier. Walking into the living room, Freddie saw Porter wrestling with the entertainment center. Freddie arched a blonde brow as he assessed everything. “Your family does know that HDMI cords have been invented, right?” Porter snorted. “You think my father knows anything about technology other than Microsoft Word and Internet Explorer? He’d look at this and say, ‘Oh, it’s not that bad, Port! Get in there and help your little brother!’” “He’s right!” Bode chirped from his position on the La-Z-Boy near the television. “When are they coming back?” The venom exuding Porter’s face could have dissolved solid stone. “They told you literally yesterday. You seriously don’t remember?” Bode shrugged. “Nope.” Freddie facepalmed. “Two weeks. They said two weeks.” “Oh. ‘Kay. Are you done, Porter?” Before Porter could answer, there was a loud crack and a shower of sparks and the brunette leapt back from the television. Bode yelped. Porter hissed and made sure he was uninjured while Freddie checked the television. “This,” he announced, “is dead. Looks like your dad’s modernizing whether he likes it or not, bro.” “I’m telling mom!” Bode announced, hopping off the La-Z-Boy and making for the phone. Freddie ran after him. Porter groaned and put his head in his hands. “I’m in so much trouble now.” “Bode, put the phone down,” Freddie commanded as the younger teen approached the family cell phone. “Porter broke the TV and I want them to buy me a new one so I can play games while they’re gone! I can’t use the one in their bedroom, you can’t plug anything in cause it’s on the wall!” Bode reached for the phone but Freddie batted it away. “Ow! You shocked me!” “It’s your fault he had to tinker with it in the first place!” Freddie snapped. “You have a laptop, play games on that! Stop trying to just fuck up Porter’s life for no-” “That’s a bad word!” Bode gasped. How could anyone be so innocent at this age? Probably because his mother babied him so much. “-FOR NO REASON,” Freddie continued. He gave Bode a light nudge as he held the phone up out of the other boy’s grasp. “Grow up!” “No! I wanna play games!” “GROW UP, BODE!” Freddie said again with another light nudge, except this time Bode went sailing across the room as if he’d been shot out of a cannon. “Holy…” Freddie said, jogging over to the younger boy on the floor. Porter showed up then and saw his friend crouching over his little brother. “What’d you do?!” “Nothing!” “It was… it was nothing…” Bode said, sitting up and giving his head a shake. “I was being rude.” He looked up at Porter. “Sorry, P. I know you were just trying to help me out. I won’t tell on you.” “Uh… thanks.” “Maybe I…” Bode stood up and smoothed down his rumpled sweatpants. “Maybe I should buy us a new TV.” “You? You don’t have that kind of money, Bode, TVs are expensive.” “I have… some money…” Bode said, in a vacant voice. “Yeah… I’ll go upstairs and look at some TVs online.” Porter and Freddie watched Bode walk back up the stairs and to his room. “That was weird,” Freddie murmured. “Least he’s out of our hair for now.” Upstairs, Bode shut the door to his room and groaned, running a hand over his forehead. “Weird… I didn’t… didn’t feel sick when I… uh… oof…!” He put a hand over his stomach, which let loose a rumbling growl. “Unnnh…” he moaned, grimacing. He staggered for his bed, flopping onto it and idly pawing around for his laptop. His hand felt weird. Like it was too big… What was going on here? This was bizarre. “I… I need to get…” What? Get what? His mind grasped for the end to the statement, but found nothing except… workout techniques? What the-? The feeling of too-bigness crept up his arm, and he groaned. This wasn’t right. He rolled over and grunted, as his crotch began to feel tight. He tried to loosen his sweatpants, but the bulge was already there, growing larger and lewder by the minute. “F-Fuck,” Bode murmured, now unconcerned whether it was a bad word or not. He tried to put it out of his mind, though he kept absently pawing at his cock, which ached inside his underwear. To distract himself, true to his word, he opened up his laptop and went to the Best Buy website to search for TVs. Some of them were pretty expensive, but Bode was excited to see a 4K one at a holiday discount with all the trimmings, including everything he needed for gaming. It was $800 – Bode knew that was a lot of money for a TV, but it was worth it. He rummaged through his backpack… why did this darn thing have so many pockets? Finally, he found a Velcro wallet with Bart Simpson on it. It had once been Porter’s when he was Bode’s age, and had gotten passed down. Their mom didn’t like Bart Simpson because he was rebellious, which made Bode like the wallet more. He pulled out his school lunch card, an unused movie pass he was saving for the next Spider-Man movie, and finally found what he wanted: his American Express Platinum card. He wondered if he had enough reward points stored up to get the TV for free. And how to get it? In-store pickup? Bode wasn’t sure if he could drive. He didn’t have a license. Did Porter have a license? Nah, he’d just have it delivered. With a few more clicks and a number typed in, the TV was headed their way. Bode smiled to himself and sat up. His stomach still ached and gurgled with a ferocity the likes of which he’d never experienced before. Maybe he needed some Coke. The carbonation would settle his stomach. So Bode went downstairs, calling out “TV’s on its way” as he turned to go into the kitchen. In the living room, Porter called back, “Thanks, kid.” Kid? Bode didn’t like that. He wasn’t a kid, was he…? Well, yeah, he was kind of a kid. So why did he feel so much older? Ugh, this made his head hurt. He opened the fridge, grabbing for a beer… Wait, beer? No, a Coke. Red can, swoopy-swirly logo. Can in hand, he headed into the living room. “So what are we doing?” he asked. Freddie and Porter regarded him as if his appearance – a teenager with the arms and hands of a seasoned stevedore – wasn’t unusual. A collective “nothing” met his question. “Hmm. We could… I dunno, play charades until the TV gets here?” Bode suggested. Freddie and Porter stared at each other for a moment. There wasn’t anything else to do, they figured, so why not? “I’ll go first,” Bode said, hopping up in front of the entertainment center. He thought for a moment. Scratched his chin. Then he raised both his arms out to the sides and slightly above his head, flashing a double peace sign and a big fake smile. “Arnold Schwarzenegger!” “Popeye!” “Hulk Hogan!” “Um… uh… Gaston!” Bode’s brow furrowed. He’d thought it was super obvious. “John Cena!” “Hercules!” “The Rock!” “No!” Bode said, dropping his arms in annoyance. “Richard Nixon! The V-sign! He made it when the Vietnam War ended!” Porter and Freddie stared up blankly at him. “Sheesh, you guys have never heard of Nixon?” “Was he a bodybuilder?” “No, he was the president!” Bode grew more exasperated. “A bodybuilder? Why on Earth were you guessing wrestlers and Hercules?” “We thought you were flexing.” “I just have big arms,” Bode shrugged, and it was an understatement to say the least. Biceps as big as cannonballs had wedged his sleeves up under his arms. His upper arms – massive, veiny – looked to have roughly the same circumference as his waist. It looked freakish. “You go, I guess I’m not good at this,” Bode barked to Freddie. Freddie leapt up immediately and Bode smiled, reaching up to rub the older teen’s hair. An odd gesture, but no one mentioned it as Bode sat down cross-legged on the floor and folded his gargantuan arms over his chest. Freddie went, almost bending in half and moving his legs to make a sprinting motion. Bode grunted and adjusted his legs a bit “An ice skater!” “A sheep!” Freddie looked at Porter like he’d grown a second head and signaled a “no.” Porter kept shouting out increasingly outlandish answers while Bode grunted, pushing out his legs. They pulsed and throbbed, and the feeling of too-bigness crept down them until there was a tearing noise. His sweatpants had burst! And yet Freddie and Porter didn’t notice! Bode looked down to see two redwoods jutting from his pelvis. Enormous thighs, swollen with fat, meaty muscles which would have been rubbing together if his enormous package wasn’t separating them. It strained against his undies, which looked like they’d give way at any moment. Bode idly massaged it as he flexed his enormous calves. After a minute, making sure not to pop a boner in front of the boys, he looked up. “Usain Bolt,” he called out. Freddie hopped into a normal stance, grinning. “That’s right!” He returned to his seat. Porter stewed as Bode strode up. “Alright, you go, sport,” Bode said, noticing Porter’s irritation. He chuckled fondly and shook his head. No one noted the “sport” comment, and Bode plopped down next to Freddie. He looked the other one over and took in just how fit Freddie was. It looked good. Really good, in fact… Bode had never noticed how handsome Freddie had become. Freddie and Porter had been friends for years, thick as thieves, so Bode saw Freddie almost daily, which had made Freddie’s puberty seem less abrupt. But the boy next door had grown up beautifully. He had a strong chin, a broad chest that Bode knew would eventually get a lot thicker, wide shoulders, and a nice deep voice. Bode imagined an older, bearded Freddie wearing a suit and tie and reading the news. He’d be good at that. And when that tie came off, the neck muscles underneath… the top of that muscular chest on view… Out of Porter’s view, Bode’s hand wandered up to the middle of Freddie’s back and began rubbing. He felt Freddie’s sharp intake of breath, and the neighbor boy’s blue eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away or look over. Bode’s fingers were stretching across Freddie’s back, his palm widening, his knuckles popping as big as quarters. More muscled bulged its way out of his arms, spreading up into his shoulders, and the crew neck of his t-shirt started to pull apart as Bode’s collarbone began extending, eventually bumping him into Freddie. Freddie didn’t move as Bode’s shoulders forced them to snuggle together, growing massively broad, twice as wide as Freddie’s. Bode slid his huge hand down to Freddie’s lower back, and his pinkie rubbed along waistband of Freddie’s underwear. He smirked. “Are you guys paying attention?!” Porter snipped. “Sorry P!” Bode said, his voice cracking. “We’re lookin’.” Bode grunted, adjusting his stance some more. He felt broad and kinda heavy, but not especially thick. Mm, he’d have to fix that… He took a deep breath and turned to watch Porter, who was standing bow-legged and had his hands out before him like he was trying to hold a large gut. Hmmm. “The Fatman?” “The what?” they asked. “Oh, I guess neither of you were around for Jake and the Fatman, were ya,” Bode muttered, not even sure he was around for that show. “Keep going.” Another deep breath and he found himself groaning as his shirt was pulled out. He tugged at it to no avail and grunted again, only succeeding in tearing the shirt off. Muscles bulged underneath his just-short-of-ponderous gut. Abs formed, and he rubbed it. All solid muscle. This was so strange… “A sumo wrestler?” Freddie called. “Right!” Porter called out. Bode clapped a hand to Freddie’s back. “Good job, son!” he enthused. Freddie blushed. “Thanks, Mister Arnell,” he said, getting up to take his turn. ‘Mister Arnell’? Since when did Brode qualify as a mister anything? He wasn’t… he wasn’t old enough, was he? Brode frowned as Freddie began to pose and flex before the TV. The teenage muscles bulged and Brode grunted uncomfortably as his loins responded perhaps a bit too favorably. Freddie had been held back, so he was 18. He was legal. But… this was his son’s best friend. They were practically brothers. And wouldn't getting with Freddie be unfaithful to Alan? Wait. His son? Alan? What the hell was he thinking? His frown deepened as he looked back up to Freddie, who was now doing a pec bounce. Brode belched, feeling Coca-Cola bubbles simmering in his throat. Brode arched his back, his mouth dropping open. His chest felt so tight. He rolled his shoulders back, extended his arms a little, trying to stretch it out. But the muscles didn’t feel like they fit correctly under his skin. He could see little stretch marks forming around his shoulders and under his nipples. He hiccuped, and his chest heaved up, but it stayed raised and began to swell. His view of his lap and stomach vanished. Brode looked down agog at his pecs as they inflated, and suddenly they began bouncing in rhythm with Freddie’s. But now they were much bigger than Freddie’s, and growing still, stretching out enormous and thick like a couple of car tires. “It’s uh-” he said, staring at Freddie. He cupped his hands under his pecs, their weight now so ponderous that he was irrationally scared they were going to fall off. Freddie was making some odd gesture around his neck, little flicks with his fingers. “He’s, uhhh, wearing a necklace?” Porter asked. Freddie shook his head no. Brode felt a tickle and looked down to see hair suddenly flowering out over his pecs. He grinned. Long curls erupted through his skin, covering it in a healthy coating of fluff, just enough to poke through all his collars. He liked being hairy. Freddie raised his arms high above his head. “I think,” Brode said, easing up onto his feet, “that you’re impersonating me!” And as he announced it, his body began stretching upward, muscle exploding out of his mountainous frame, until his chest was eye-level for Freddie – no mean feat, seeing that Freddie was six feet tall. He stared down at the neighbor boy with a grin. “Pretty good, kid. I liked the chest hair bit.” He scratched at his furry pecs and bounced them for Freddie, who stared hungrily. “I love your-” Freddie started to say, before realizing what he had almost admitted in front of Porter. He went crimson and sat down, leaving Brode towering over the two older teens. He looked down at them – but couldn’t see them. All he saw was his chest. Unsure of how to continue, Brode tried to tap his chin as he pondered, but as he did, his lats exploded out, and his arms couldn’t quite move to meet his face. He grunted in irritation and stepped back a bit. Freddie was staring up at him adoringly. Brode grinned at him salaciously before his face fell. A tearing noise stopped everything else dead and he felt his big, fat dick slap his thighs. “Dude!” Porter yelped as Freddie moaned. Brode didn’t stick around to find out what he was moaning about, and beat a hasty retreat upstairs. His cock grew the whole way, hardening and snaking up to fit the underside of his musclegut. Thick, prominent veins snaked along its length and even fully hard the foreskin clung to the swollen head. It stopped around his bellybutton and as soon as Brode entered his room and plopped onto his bed, it exploded, shooting cum all over his tremendous ball gut. He bellowed in pleasure, tweaking one of his prominent nipples and leaning back, one hand furiously jerking his meat. Good God, this felt divine! After almost a minute of unloading, Brode fell back, panting and chuckling as he felt the cum on his hairy gut. Incredibly thick, sticky, and piping hot. God, he was a virile sonuvabitch. But… something felt wrong. This all felt wrong. The more he thought about it, the more wrong it felt, and his mind was soon reeling. He tried to marshal his thoughts. His name was… Brodae. No…? Wait… maybe? It might be Brady… He decided he’d come back to that. Age. Right, that was easy: he was, uh… 20? 30? No, wait! He was 45, definitely. Had his kid at 28. Wait, kid? Since when did he have a- oh, right, Porter! Good kid, made his old man proud in and out of the gym. But why couldn’t he shake the feeling Porter was his older brother? Shit… why was he so sure Porter was from his ex-wife Sheila? He tried to remember, and all that came to mind was a hard-fought custody battle, winning sole parental rights when Porter turned six… then Porter, himself, and his then-boyfriend Alan going out for a celebratory pizza. Porter had eaten until he’d gotten a tummy ache and Alan had held him all night long. Brodae chuckled at the memory, and gasped when he realized how deep his voice was. Loud and booming like a foghorn. It felt wrong. But why? WHY!? “Nothing makes sense anymore!” Brodae snarled, rubbing his bald head. Wait, when did he lose his hair? He had a full head of it… well, wait, he did, up until two years ago when Alan… oh. Oh, god, how could he forget his husband getting cancer? Brodae had shaved his head in solidarity once the chemo started, and kept doing it even after… after Alan had passed away. He and Porter still had nightmares about it sometimes… Brodae sat back, rubbing his eyes as they watered. It still hurt. It still didn’t feel entirely real. Had it really happened? He shook his head. Even if it wasn’t real, which he was sure it was, he couldn’t waste anymore tears on it. Moving forward. That’s what he had to do. No doubt he’d meet someone with as good as he looked! Wait, how did he look? The titan staggered to the mirror and gaped at his reflection in shock. Why did he have some kid’s face!? He moved his hands back up to run them over his smooth head. This gesture pushed his pecs up against his chin, smushed his deltoids against his cheeks, and exposed his furry pits. Another shot of cum splattered over the mirror and onto the floor. He had two voices in his head and both told him he wasn’t supposed to look like this. One was talking about his body – the hundreds of pounds of muscle – and the other was talking about the smooth baby face on top of that mountain of virility. He and Porter had both gotten so much bigger after Alan died. They’d taken their grief out on the gym. They still cried together, sometimes – Porter had come into Brodae’s bedroom just last week in the middle of the night, his handsome face wet with tears like a child’s, and he’d spent the night in Brodae’s embrace. They hadn’t mentioned it since. Brodae knew his boy wanted to be a strong man, but even strong men just needed to let it out now and then. “M-Mister Arnell?” Freddie’s voice was on the other side of the door. “The TV’s here…” Brodae opened the door, his naked body on full display. Freddie took a nervous step back. “I’m sorry, sir-” “Don’t apologize, son. Does Porter need me?” “I don’t think so,” Freddie said, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him. “I think he’s got… everything under control…” Freddie’s nose was almost buried between Brodae’s hairy pecs. He began kissing them. Brodae rubbed his head. “Thanks.” “I wanna… I wanna be just like you…” Freddie gurgled between kisses. He wrapped his lips around Brodae’s nipple and sucked as the big stud guided him over to the bed. Brodae stroked his dick and felt a rubbery texture. A condom. He pulled on Freddie’s shorts and yanked them off, and the teen fell back on the bed with a gasp, spreading his legs wide, staring up at Brodae’s angelic face, moaning and mewling with desire. Brodae groaned back, his jaw cracking. “Fuckin’ Christ!” he swore, rubbing it. It was now comically square, and it didn’t quite fit his face at all. He began to thrust into Freddie’s hole, and the teenager moaned his appreciation. Brodae’s face continued to change. His nose was wide and thick, jutting out and bending in the middle. Most would call it a hawk’s beak nose, but Brodae always thought of it more like an eagle’s beak. Big, majestic, and possessing impressively broad wings – just like Brodae (well, he had impressively broad lats, but the principle was similar). His lower lip plumped up a bit more than his upper one and his lower jaw jutted out a bit more, too. Combined with his heavy new brow and thick eyebrows, he’d look classically brutish if it wasn’t for his jaw and newly clefted chin. He looked downright superheroic. His thrusting was picking up speed, and both he and Freddie were moaning and hollering fit to bring the house down. It was a wonder Porter hadn’t run in with all the noise. Finally, with a roar that would make a gorilla duck for cover, Brodae came hard into Freddie’s tight hole. He shot rope after rope of thick cum deep inside his younger lover, then collapsed onto him, bringing him in for a kiss, his thicker stubble rubbing against Freddie’s. “This is wrong,” he rumbled, running a hand over Freddie’s hair. “Then I don’t wanna be right,” Freddie replied. It was cheesy, and they both grinned. “I just wanna be yours, Brodan.” “Son, you’ve been mine for a long time,” Brodan growled back, cupping the back of Freddie’s head with one hand and kissing him again. They laid like that for a little while, just cuddling and kissing with Brodan’s enormous prick lodged in Freddie’s hole, until Porter walked in. “Dad, I- WHAT THE FUCK!?” Brodan leapt up in surprise, pulling his dick out of Freddie so fast that the blond teen yelped. “Port!” he grunted. He’d… he’d forgotten… he was stark fucking naked… Brodan grabbed around for something to cover himself with. He found the only piece of fabric in the room big enough to cover him – a bedsheet. As soon as he swung it around his hulking form, it tightened around him like a cocoon, stitching itself together until it had become a men’s dress shirt, the same navy blue Brodan’s sheets had been. The buttons over Brodan’s chest fell open, displaying his hairy chest, while they pulled too tight over his bulging stomach. The shirt was tucked into a pair of gray trousers with a higher waist than any pants Brodan had worn before, but since he was a man now, this was how he would dress from now on. He was even sporting a nice pair of brown wingtip shoes all of a sudden. As lines webbed out around his eyes and a pair of trendy eyeglasses fell onto his nose, he looked every inch the superheroic dad he had molded himself to be. Porter blinked at his new father. Hadn’t he been… naked a second before? But no, that was silly… what had he and Freddie been doing…? He’d felt so embarrassed, but now that was only because he’d barged in. “Sorry, guys,” Porter said, “I should’ve knocked.” “S’fine. I just, uh, needed advice about something,” Freddie said, still feeling confusion over his newfound homosexuality. All he could think about was standing up and unbuttoning Mr. Arnell’s shirt and kissing him, worshiping him, sucking his enormous, porn star cock… And he looked at Porter, and Porter had that same chin, that same beefy chest that made his shirts too tight… fuck, Porter was so hot. Had he always looked like that? “You okay, buddy?” Brodan asked his son, with a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “The – the TV is here, they’ve set it up, you just have to sign for it.” Porter said. “No problem,” Brodan said, walking down the stairs, opening another button on his shirt and wiping some sweat off his gleaming bald head. “You Mister Arnell?” the deliveryman asked, dwarfed by Brodan’s immense size. “Call me Brogan,” the bodybuilder said, his pecs vibrating a bit bigger. He took the clipboard the deliveryman offered and signed. Another button popped off of Brogan’s shirt. The titan chuckled. “Sorry about that, brother! I lose more good shirts that way.” The deliveryman muttered something about a “freak” and ducked out. Brogan smirked at that. Yeah, he was a freak, and he loved every minute of it. Freddie and Porter entered as the door shut. “Niiice!” Porter declared, gazing at the television like it was his new best friend. Brogan laughed, but was cut off by his text jingle before he could reply. After a quick glance, he clapped a hand to Porter’s back. “I gotta run,” he grunted. “Work needs me. You be good while I’m gone, alright, big guy?” “Aren’t I always?” Porter replied, before hastily adding: “Don’t answer that. Have fun at work, pops.” “I always do. And don’t stay up all night watchin’ TV. You’ll rot your brain.” Brogan kissed his son’s forehead as Porter made token protests, then wrapped an arm around Freddie’s shoulder. “C’mon, kid.” “Wait, what?” Freddie asked as Porter did the same. “You wanted to be just like me, right? Well, you can start now. Besides, we should spend some quality time together, sport,” Brogan replied with a significant look, and Freddie picked up what he meant, nodding. He fell into step with Brogan and they were out the door before Porter could say any more. They hopped into the huge emerald green F-250 in the driveway – the same color as Brogan and Porter’s eyes – and roared off. The massive DILF glanced over to Freddie as they drove. “About what happened in the bedroom…” “It feels like a dream,” Freddie murmured. “One of the best dreams I’ve ever had. Whatever it was, I’m happy with it happening a lot more often,” Brogan rumbled. Seeing Freddie’s face light up, he laughed. “On a couple conditions, son.” “Name ‘em.” “We keep it secret until next summer and you make good on becoming just like me.” “Deal!” Freddie agreed. “I’m so excited! Like, you don’t even know, sir!” “Simmer down, sport,” Brogan chuckled, turning out of town. Freddie looked confused and Brogan’s smile broadened. “You thought we were going to the gym, right?” “Uh, yeah…” “Well, tough luck. Actually, we’re starting on my other job.” The F-250 pulled into the parking lot of a brick building bearing a pink neon sign. It read “Poker in the Rear” and a man’s hand poking a woman’s shapely rear end. Below that read: “Saturday: Gay Night! Sunday: Lesbian Night!” Freddie blinked a few times before turning to Brogan with a broad grin. “Oh, hell yeah!” Brogan laughed and gave Freddie a deep kiss. “That’s what I like to hear, my love. Now c’mon, I’m on in 20 and you got a front row seat.” “Sweet. Can I maybe get a private lap dance later?” Brogan smirked at Freddie. “You have to ask?” – Well, with Tumblr deciding it knows better than consenting adults a few years ago, I figure it was high time I posted all my stories from there – and some new ones! – over here on MG. I do plan on continuing my Sean series as well, if only for the novelty of fanfiction about other series in the community. Well, that, and I have had that planned out with varying levels of detail for years now. That said, if you enjoyed this story then like it, upvote it, or gimme some thanks. If you wanna be in my good books, maybe even give me some feedback! Also… remember the name Harry Greco. This isn’t the last you’ll be hearing of that party. - Trav

I've asked this a long while ago. Any story here or at other story sites of bullies,downright nasty and undeserved guys growing HUGE at the expense of the central characters, and where evil or the bad guy(s) triumphs. Maybe with the reality shifts?

MUSCLE MATING SQUIRT "I should have never taken that bet at the gym" Oliver, a 300-pound bodybuilding male deer, thought to himself. "Come on Oliver. What are you scared of? Big bucks like yourself can't be scared of a challenge!" It's my fault for listening. I could have left that locker room long before I dug myself into a hole almost as deep as this monster is digging into me. But I just had to prove I was bigger than Magno. That half-orc half manotaur hybrid beast was huge, but I didn't think he'd be bigger than me. Bucks like me are huge, our male figures are seen as thick veiny trophies to all who lay down with us bucks. I guess I'm not the biggest after all. SQUIRT 15 inches was 3 inches too short. When Magno and I agreed "smallest would bottom" I never expected any man to ever pack an 18-inch cock between their legs. I guess that orc manotaur mix got both specie's huge dick genetics. SQUIRT Now he's at my house... stuffing me like a jelly donut. What makes this worse is that even his loads are bigger than mine. This male has already squirted 10 squirts in me and hasn't stopped thrusting his 18-inch dick into me yet. I don't even think Magno has slowed down. It hurt at first, I felt like a telephone pole was being shoved up my core, but all that lubrication from his 10 squirts has made things a lot easier. SQUIRT 11 now. That squirt had to be the biggest yet. I felt that squirt up in my chest that time. I want Magno to think he's only a little more manly than me but even I couldn't breed like this. I'm sure I would have cum all the water in my body by now and this stallion still has cum to spare. I can't lie to myself any longer, he makes me look like a twig. SQUIRT. That one hurt. That squirt drizzled the back of my throat. I only felt a few drops splash against my throat but I didn't know his load would go that deep into me. Things are about to get a lot worse, aren't they? He's grunting a lot more now. His hands just tightened their grip on my legs. I can feel his cock throbbing faster now. These 12 squirts were only pre? Ok, he's slowing down now, what does that mean? Wait, I can feel his rod shaking, why is it shaking so much? WOSH It felt like all of the cum he had left blew out of his dick in one burst that was strong enough to shake my bed. I don't know how much cum he dumped into me but It was enough to make me feel like I gained 50 pounds. His sperm swam through every limb and every joint. Magno's seed is basically my blood now. I wouldn't be surprised if my body has more of his seed than my own blood. This doesn't worry me though, I can't imagine how much pure protein and testosterone I just soaked up. By this time tomorrow, my male hormones will be through the roof. This much male milk might even help me gain a few inches. It would be amazing if this cum can all swim down to my own cock and swell me up. Maybe next time Magno can dock me and make my balls bigger than my head. If I soak up this genetically gifted male's seed regularly I bet I could gain some of his genetics. I bet his protein could make my muscles unstoppable. "That was fun," Magno said holding my legs above me. "Are you done already," I said teasing him. "You couldn't dump half that much cum if I hooked you up to a milking machine!" I laid there for a few seconds to catch my breath before I clapped back. "Maybe I can if you keep filling me up like this," I told Magno winking. "I might have to," he told me winking back. Magno set my legs back down so that my knees were on the edge of my bed and he leaned down. Magno put both arms under my shoulder blades, put his head down next to mine, and squeezed my chest into his. He gripped my muscles into his muscles like my buff body was his new body pillow. I was exhausted from being flooded with his seed, but I managed to build up the strength to hug Magno back. "I'm glad you took up that challenge," Magno whispered. I thought he was being sweet until he said "I knew I was bigger and you proved it. Now all the guys in the locker room will stop asking!" "You're only bigger by three inches," I reminded him. Magno laughed and gripped my body again. I gripped him back. We fell asleep in that position. As I laid there under Magno's boulder-like body, I felt trillions of sperm tails swimming around my body... all swimming towards my chest. The liquid from the seamen felt like it was soaking into my muscles as the muscles extracted the protein and testosterone from Magno's slimy meal, but I could very clearly feel the sperm migrate to my chest. The muscles that absorbed the liquid felt mostly normal when they swallowed his gooey flood, but my chest felt like it was swelling up. There were so many sperm cells piling up in my chest that it felt like his seed was fertilizing my chest muscles. A noticeable lump began to form on either side of my chest that grew bigger as more sperm swam up my body to join in. Did Magno impregnate me? Was this alpha male's sperm so strong that it planted his offspring in me? As I laid there, feeling his sperm grow bigger in my chest and countless sperm cells travel through me, I thought about why they would gather in the chest. Then I realized that the chest, especially one as solid as mine, was actually the perfect spot on a male's body to grow offspring. The chest muscles are huge and can swell up without getting in the way of the male's daily life. Multiplying in the arms or legs would strain a male's body too much, and the abdominal muscles were too small. The chest made the most sense, and it was where Magno's sperm gathered. As Magno laid on top of me, wrapping his stiff muscles around me like a warm blanket, his solid body reassuringly held my muscular body. If Magno did impregnate me, this massive male was ready to multiply with me. He liked me, that was obvious, or he wouldn't be holding me so close. He probably would have at least pulled his cock out before he slept on top of me, if not slept next to me instead of on top, for that matter.

Cubs Muscle up Amazing Transformations Disclaimer: This is a story about unprotected consensual sex between men. If this offends you then do not read on. If you are under the age of 18 then please close this document. Chapter 1: The Beginning I was a normal 20 year old kid with the exception that he was gay, and attracted to muscle bears (big Muscular hairy gay men). Not only was I attracted to musclebears, but I also wanted to be one. At 5 foot 8 inches and 150 pounds I was quite scrawny and unattractive. Anyway, let me introduce myself. My name is Chad and I live in California. The mecca of gay musclebears. I'm also attending UCLA as chemistry major. One Friday night (yeah I have no life) I was working late in the lab working on a new batch of glow goo (I sell em to the rave kids for some extra cash) when a small quake hit and knocked some extra stuff into my formula. "Great, now I have to start over" I thought when I noticed that some of my mess had dripped into the mouse cage. Oliver (the mouse) was lying on its back twitching and got noticeably bigger. After the twitching was done he got up and seemed to be fine with one exception. The mouse was bending his water nozzle. "Well THAT shouldn't happen" I back tracked through what happened, analyzed the new "goo" and after I determined that it wasn't toxic I ran some more tests. This stuff was great! It seemed to enhance the muscle and bone structure of the one who drank it. Well since I made 5 gallons of the stuff I bottled it up and took it home. I live alone so nobody would interrupt me while I test it on my self. I decided that the best thing to wear was a little pair of running shorts and then setup my video camera and some mirrors to document the experiment. I poured out a full 8 oz helping, stared at it for a bit, downed it and waited. It seemed like forever and then I started to feel funny. Kind of nauseated and warm. Then came the convulsions. My stomach hurt so bad I thought I was gonna die. I managed to look up at the mirror on the ceiling (it wasn't hard since I was laying down) and I saw it happen my shoulders broadened and my chest was getting bigger. More convulsions. It started happening faster. Arms, legs, back, they were all getting huge. My shorts also started to feel really tight too. The crotch bulged up enormously then they ripped and out popped the biggest cock and balls I had ever seen. I was also sprouting fur and then it stopped. I stood up and looked in the mirror. I was BIG. I was a muscle bear. But I wasn't as big as I wanted to be so I drank a few more ounces. After that transformation I looked again and saw an ursine muscle GOD. I had a bit of a tummy but man was I massive. I looked down at my crotch and almost fainted. I was getting turned on by my bod but when I saw my cock I got hard immediately. And it was huge! I grabbed a tape measure. 12.5 inches long and 8 inches around and I was horny as hell! I was taller too. I jumped up to 6'3". I had to share this discovery so I called Jerry. "Jerry, hey u busy?" "No. Why?" Jerry is a long time buddy and bear chaser too. "I was in the lab last night and whipped up something wild" "Oh like what?" "Well come over and see" "Now?" "Sure why not. I think I might be able to fulfill one of your dreams" "What? Ummm.. Ok gimme a sec I have to put some clothes on" "Ok do you still have some of Jeff’s clothes?" "Ya why?" "Just bring them" "Ok be there in a sec" 5 minutes later Jerry knocked on the door. When I let him in he almost died. "What the fuck happed to you?!?!?!" "Remember the quake earlier?" "Yeah" "Well I was makin some glow goo and some other stuff spilled in. This is the result." "Wow. Awesome! You’re huge! Man can I get that big?" "Sure can. Strip down to your boxers and drink this" I handed Jerry 12 oz of the magic Juice. "Swallow this and lay here on the floor. It's safer and u can see your self up there." "Ok" Jerry drank it and laid down. I flipped on the camera and started the filming. "How long does it take?" "About 10 minutes. Let me know when u start feeling tingly" About 7 minutes later he started changing "I feel weird. Kinda like I'm sick. My tummy hurts" "It's Ok that is natural just relax" "Oh my god! What's happening?!" For the next 5 minutes Jerry twitched and grew and became more sexy right before my eyes. The beach towel that I had on started to tent and eventually fell off as my dick reached it's full size. When it was all said and done Jerry laid there sweating and breathing hard like he had run a mile. "My god that was intense?" "It was hot too. Look at your self" "Oh jesus. I'm huge!" "Just like me let's measure each other. You measure me first." "Ok. Biceps... 35 inches, chest...80, waist..42, thighs....40, calves....24 GOD DAMN!" "Don't forget the last muscle. I measured it earlier 12.5x8" "Holy fuck!" "Ok ok. Now you. Bicep....30, chest...59, waist...44, thighs...30, calves...20, and last but not least cock...11x7. Wow were awesome!" "Hell yeah! I'm horny too" "I noticed. I am too" I started rubbing Jerry's massive hair chest tweaking a nip. He moaned and his cock twitched. He grabbed my head and gave me the biggest hottest kiss I have ever had. Our hands roamed our massive muscle bear bodies. Jerry dropped to his knees and swallowed as much of my dick as he could which surprisingly was about ¾ of it. I almost came right there but I survived 20 minutes of the best head in the world. I was determined to swallow his whole dick. I laid him down and dove down. Forcing huge amounts of cock down my throat. Finally I managed to get it all then I backed off and proceeded to give him the sucking of his life. "OH FUCK STOP!" "Why?" "I don't want to cum yet. I want us to fuck each other first" "Ok!" I got out some lube and slicked up my cock. "Is it hot in here?" "Yeah I'm sweating" I got all slicked up, bent Jerry over and started pushing. GOD he was tight! He moaned as I slid inch after inch up his hot hole. When I finally had all 12 inches up in him he stood up and flexed his ass muscles. "FUCK that feels good" "Yeah 12 inches of muscle bear cock! You like that? You like this big dick up your ass?" "Fuck yeah bear FUCK ME!" For the next 30 minutes I plowed Jerry's ass in as many positions as I could think of. God it was hot. I was dripping sweat and I was getting close to cumming. "I'm getting close man" "Fuck yeah do, it cum!" I could feel it build and it was gonna be a big one. Pistoning in and out of Jerry's ass like a man possessed then it happened I came. I roared and let loose the biggest load of my life, that sent Jerry off and there was cum every where. He must have soaked a 4 foot radius and I dumped so much cum up his ass that every time I moved in him it splashed out. I continued to gently pump as we kissed and cuddled and after a while we decided to shower and get some food. After we had fed our face I looked at Jerry. I had an idea. "I think we should recruit more people. Daily orgies would be fun" "Hell yeah but who?" "I have a few ideas." Stay tuned for the next chapter....... Questions? Comments?

With the pandemic in full swing, Dallas had been effectively furloughed. There was no telling when things would return to some semblance of normalcy, and there was even less telling when he was going to get around to getting another job. He had enough money in savings to coast on for a while. In fact, the only reason he had stuck with his current job as long as he had was because he had been caught up in the constant grind of his daily life. Now that that grind had ground to a halt, he found that he had a unique opportunity. Dallas had long wanted to bulk up, but he never had the time. Now he had all the time in the world! He ordered a weight bench and some barbells from Amazon, and within a week he had his own indoor gym, and as fate would have it, no sooner had he placed the order than he started getting targeted ads in his inbox. He ignored most of these outright. He had done his research before buying his equipment, so he knew what brands to get and what supplements were right for him, but for some reason one caught his eye. He had never even heard of this new supplement before, and the promises were too good to be true. Best of all, the price tag could not be beat. Against his better judgement, Dallas placed an order for the stuff, and within days he had a fresh jug of protein powder delivered directly to his doorstep. With no social obligations to attend to, no work that needed done, and a fridge stocked full of food, there was nothing stopping Dallas from spending the foreseeable future holed up in his apartment, and that’s exactly what he did. On the very first day of his self-imposed quarantine, Dallas set up his weight bench, popped some powder, and really went ham on his reps. He never knew he could have so much energy or bench so much! It was his first day on the weights and yet he was lifting weights like the pros. From that point on, Dallas benched like a man possessed. The breaks he took were few and far between. If not for bathroom breaks and general hygiene, he wouldn’t have even left the weight set he had set up where his couch once sat. He ate and slept at the bench, and all he ate was the powder sent to him by Bulk Enterprises. The days went by in a sort of fever dream. By end of the first day, Dallas realized his clothes felt uncomfortable, but he didn’t think much of it. By the end of the second day, his clothes felt positively suffocating, but he could barely even think about what that meant. When he awoke on the third day, he tried to pull up his gym shorts and found that he couldn’t even get them over his quads. Dallas shrugged and tossed aside his shorts. It’s not like he needed them. He wasn’t going anywhere, and it’s not like there was anyone here to see him. Besides, even if someone did see him, he wasn’t afraid to show a little skin. He looked fantastic, and he felt even better! Dallas continued his fevered exercise regimen sans clothing. The feeling of his bare skin against the cool leather of the exercise bench spurred him on more and more. He loved the feeling of the pump of his swelling muscles. He loved the cool air-conditioned air against his glistening brawn. He loved the way his fat cock and hefty nuts swung between his legs as he did his squats and lunges. He felt like his cock was in a perpetual state of chubbed up. He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination or if it was a side effect of the constant rush endorphins coursing through his body as he continued to pump iron day in and day out, but he loved how it felt, and he especially loved how it looked. In the few breaks he took from working out, he marveled at how thick his cock looked. He couldn’t be sure, but he felt like it was bigger than it was at the start of the week. For some reason he couldn’t really recall what he looked like at the start of the week. He was sure that he was what you would call “average” but what was average, really? As far as denizens of his apartment went, he was as average as they come, and it had been so long since he had seen anyone else, that he had no real basis for comparison. He hadn’t even so much as turned on the TV since he started pumping iron. The days continued to stretch on with no sign of the quarantine or Dallas’s own exercise regimen letting up. Each day he would wake up, he would scoop some handfuls of powder into his mouth and wash it down with some milk, and then hit the weights. When the sun inevitably set, Dallas would stagger over to the shower and hose off and then pass out for the night. Showering was a major ordeal. It seemed to take him forever to get clean, and it wasn’t because of the stink of sweat. The stall he called a shower was too small for his buff bod and fat cock. Dallas grumbled every time he tried to get in. He knew he had had to make some concessions to get a cheap apartment, but this was ridiculous. What was this? A shower for ants? It was barely big enough to wash his balls! Fortunately, the shower head was mounted on a hose so he could get every angle of his body. Otherwise there was no way he could ever get clean in that cramped stall. By the time Saturday rolled around, Dallas’s powder keg was running on empty. For dinner he upended the tub and pounded the base of the drum hoping to catch the last bit of powder on his tongue. He knew he needed to order more of the stuff, but that would have to wait. They weren’t open over the weekend so the soonest he could even order more would be in two days. Dallas wasn’t fully satisfied with the small amount of powder he had ingested, but he couldn’t even think of eating real food anymore. He shrugged, showered, and laid down for the night. Dallas woke up bright and early the next morning. To say he felt strange would be an understatement. It was as if he was waking up from a dream he had been wrapped up in for almost a week! For the first time since he had started power slamming the powder, he was fully conscious of what had been happening. He looked around his apartment and gawked at what he saw. Everything was so tiny! Dallas’ gawking was derailed by a terse knock at the door. Dallas recognized the gruff voice instantly. “I know yer in there. I can hear ya stompin’ around. Your mailbox has been filled for days. If you don’t empty it soon, I’m gonna start throwing it away!” barked the landlord. Hearing another human voice for the first time in what felt like years was so disorienting for Dallas. Just how long had he been alone in here? It was just a week, right? Truth be told, he hadn’t been counting the days. Each day was a fever dream of food and irons. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had assigned arbitrary days to each exercise. The only real calendar he had to go off of was the date on his phone, and he could no longer remember what day he had started working out. Dallas figured he’d have time to sort things out later. First things first, he felt like he should collect the mail he had been neglecting for what felt like forever. If nothing else, getting some semblance of normalcy back to his life would help him clear his head, but no sooner had Dallas resolved to do this than he discovered the first of many issues. He had nothing to wear! It wasn’t that he didn’t own clothes. He had plenty. He had clothes for every occasion, but the clothes he owned was now tailored for someone several sizes smaller than he. He couldn’t even get a single foot in his gym shorts let alone a leg, let alone two! His t-shirts looked like they were toddler sized! Even his socks were too tiny to fit over his massive feet. Dallas checked the time on his phone. It was still early yet. He doubted many people would be awake this time of day. He could sneak out, snag his mail, and sneak back before anyone even realized he was streaking. With that plan relatively in mind, Dallas set forth. He was amazed when he reached his doorway and found that it was far too small for him. The upper rim of the door frame came up to about his belly button! He was now so tall that his head scraped against the ceiling even while he was hunched over like Sasquatch, and that was saying nothing of his girth! Dallas was now so massive and muscular that he was easily three times as wide as the door frame. Even just one thick, sculpted pec was as wide as the door itself! Hell, even his cock was thicker than the door frame! Dallas gawked at his soft cock which now dangled so low that the tip of it scraped the floor as he walked. Given the way his soft cock jutted out in front of him and draped over his colossal nuts, his softie had to be longer than his legs! Numbers raced in his mind. How tall was he now? Ten? Twelve feet? He couldn’t remember how tall his ceiling was in his apartment. Then how long were his legs? Five feet? Maybe six? His soft cock was at least six feet long!? His cock was bigger than most people he knew! Just thinking about that made his soft cock swell up slightly. He didn’t want to admit it, but the mere thought of dwarfing people with his dick alone got him hot under the collar… if he wore a shirt that is. Dallas knew he’d have plenty of time to take stock of his size later. If he didn’t hurry, he’d soon run into the morning crowd, and the last thing he wanted was to be spotted in his current state. He quickly opened the door and set to work extricating himself from the apartment. Getting out of his apartment was easier said than done. Not only was he far taller than his door frame – almost twice as tall in fact! But he also was far, far wider as well. There was no way to get through the normal way. He had to squat down and try to squeeze through sideways. Even then it was a tight fit. His pecs were so thick that even sideways they filled up just about every inch of the doorway. The door frame groaned in protest as he forced his brawn through the entryway. Finally, he had managed to get his body into the hall, but that still left his bait and tackle. His cock would be easy enough. It was thicker than the doorway, sure, but at least it was still relatively soft. He could squeeze it through. His balls were more challenging. Either enormous nut was far wider than the door, and he could only squeeze them so much before it went from pleasurable to painful. He had to slowly ease each enormous orb through the doorway. Somehow the act of getting his package out of his apartment was therapeutic. It was so absurd in its own way that he couldn’t even think of it as his cock and balls. It was more like moving a sofa out of his apartment than it was pulling his nuts through the doorway. Once every inch of Dallas’s enormous body was into the hallway, he stood up to his full height for the first time in days. The ceiling in the open areas between apartments was quite a bit higher than the apartment ceilings, but it was still a tight fit. His head brushed against the ceiling, and he did have to duck a little bit under the domed lights the dotted the ceiling, and Dallas was so broad and brawny that even the hallway was a tight fit for his wingspan. His triceps pressed against the walls on either side, and his nutsack was even wider! He had to shuffle awkwardly along by pushing his nuts forward with his feet as he moved. He waddled like a penguin trying to carry an egg on his feet only the egg was proportionally several times larger than any egg a penguin would try to carry. Not to mention he had two of them! Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Dallas found himself getting excited. He couldn’t tell what it was that did it. Was it the fear of getting caught? Was it the glimpses of his own buff bod he occasionally caught on reflective black ball covering the occasional security camera? Was it the feeling of his enormous nuts resting solidly on his feet? Whatever the case may be, he was flying at half mast as he waddled. He had always been a bit of a grower and not a shower, and it seemed his growth spurt hadn’t changed that. He had gone from a six-foot softy to almost ten feet of semi-boned wang wobbling in front of him. He had a cock bigger than most couches! Hell, he had a cock bigger than some minivans! Fortunately, Dallas lived on the ground floor. He didn’t have any stairwells to deal with, and he only had a short walk to the mailboxes. No sooner had he reached the mailbox than he realized a flaw in his plan. He had no pants, and that meant no pockets. He had forgotten his key! He knew he’d need to force his back into his apartment, get the key, force his way back out, and then waddle his way back to the mailbox! It was already getting so late that he was surprised no one else had walked out on him. Dallas soon realized yet another flaw in his plan. His cock was now beyond semi’d. His rock-hard twelve-foot rod now jutted out in front of him in such a way that there was no way he’d be able to turn around in these narrow hallways. Even out in the front lobby where the mailboxes were, there was not enough room to turn around. He doubted he’d even be able to get back into his apartment with his hard-on in the way. So where did that leave him? Did he have to wait for it to go down? Did he step outside, get out into the open, and then turn around and go back in? Even if he did that, he’d still not be able to get into his apartment until his stiffy died down. It seemed like the most efficient method of moving things along would be to blow his load, but that presented a whole slew of new problems. Did he do it right there in the lobby? The mere thought of it caused his already rock-hard cock to give a lurch of delight. A gigantic, softball-sized bead of pre formed on the tip of his colossal cock. He didn’t want to admit how much the thought excited him, but it was hard to deny the physical evidence. As luck would have it, Dallas didn’t have long to ponder his plight. The sound of the big gob of pre splashing down on the dingy carpet blow seemed to snap him from his reveries and bring his attention to the tiny figure which now stood directly in front of him. Dallas had not been paying too much attention to his surroundings, and even if he had it would have been easy to miss the sight of the guy who now stood eye to eye with his one-eyed monster. Dallas could only barely see a bit of the dude’s hair poking out above the rim of his puffed-up cock head. “Oh, hey… didn’t see you there…” Dallas said awkwardly. There was a moment where neither person said anything. Dallas fidgeted a bit in place. He felt a bit out of place for more reasons than one. Not only was he bare-assed naked, but his rock-hard cock was now mere inches from this dude’s eyes. Dallas wasn’t sure what the social protocol was on something like this. Even without social distancing rules in effect, what do you even say to a dude you almost bowled over with a cock that’s bigger than his whole body? Finally, Dallas decided to break eye contact between his cock and his co-resident. Dallas pushed down on his rock-hard shaft so that his dick head was no longer pointed directly at the dude’s face. Dallas was shocked to see the identity of the new arrival. Dallas had long had a sort of crush on his neighbor, but he had never been able to work up the nerve to say more than the cursory small talk whenever they passed in the hallway. They knew each other’s names, but that was about it. As Dallas stared down at the dude who now didn’t even reach his belly button, Dallas found it hard to believe that just a week ago Corbin had been a solid foot taller than him! Hell, Corbin had been bigger than Dallas in every day. Corbin was a 6’5, buff bombshell of a bro. Corbin looked like he had walked off the cover of a men’s fitness magazine, and the bulge in his jogging shorts made it clear that Corbin was well above average beneath the belt as well. Now it was Corbin’s turn to ogle how huge his neighbor had become. Now that Dallas had moved his cock out of the way, he could see the look of pure lust in Corbin’s eyes. Corbin looked downright feral. Just seeing the horny glint in his neighbor’s eyes made Dallas’s goliath cock give a lurch of approval. It seemed like that was all the incitement that Corbin needed. He leaned forward and ran his tongue across the tip of Dallas’s enormous cock – all the while keeping his eyes fixed on Dallas’s own. Dallas’s mind was racing. On one hand this was like a dream come true. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if he was actually awake. For all he knew he was still dreaming and the whole last week had just been part of his dream, but it felt so real! But then what if it was real? Was his crush really blowing him right here in the lobby!? Dallas panicked and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “Hey, uh… aren’t we supposed to be keeping apart?” Corbin chuckled. His laughter was like music to Dallas’s ears. Those sweet tones made Dallas weak in the knees and hard in the cock. “What are you talking about?” Corbin teased, “As I see it, we’re at least ten feet apart.” Dallas couldn’t argue with that – not that he wanted to. No sooner had Corbin planted another kiss on the tip of Dallas’s cockhead than Dallas felt his legs give out from under him. He was so hot and bothered that his knees felt like jelly. The entire building shuddered as Dallas’s massive, muscular form landed flat on its ass. Seeing how much power he had over the titan made Corbin smirk, and seeing the devious smile made Dallas even harder. “That’s right. Just lay back and let me have my fun,” Corbin cooed. Dallas could feel what little self-control he had left slipping. Corbin’s voice was music to his ears, and his massive cock felt so amazing. Just feeling how tiny Corbin’s lips and tongue and hands and fingers felt against his own colossal cock head drove him wild. It was equal parts the feeling of his crush tending to his cock and the sheer scope and scale of his own cock that was driving Dallas over the edge. Corbin just felt so damn tiny compared to how huge Dallas had become. Just thinking about it made pre flow freely from Dallas’s cock. What had once been a single softball-sized bead of pre was now a full-on fountain. Dallas had never been one to leak pre, but that seemed to have changed with the size of his schlong. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” Corbin moaned. Dallas wanted to return the sentiments, but all he could do was moan in bliss as Corbin dug his fingers deeper into the soft, sensitive tissue of Dallas’s glans. “I doubt we have long before people come to investigate…” Corbin mused out loud. For a brief second, Dallas thought this meant Corbin was having second thoughts. Dallas’s heart sunk and his cock ached for relief, but it was soon apparent that Corbin was not ready to quit just yet. “Let’s move things along, shall we?” Corbin asked impishly. Dallas wasn’t about to argue even if he had wanted to. All he could do was lie there and writhe in delight as Corbin played with his colossal cock. It seemed that not only the size had increased astronomically but the sensation as well! Dallas was so wracked with euphoric bliss that he could barely keep his trembling cock from blasting spunk all over the lobby. Dallas heard the sound of fabric shuffling, but he couldn’t quite tell what was going on. He leaned over to the side and craned his neck to try and peer around the solid wall of his own fat column of cock. He managed to catch a brief glimpse of the scene on the other end of his cock, and even just a glimpse was enough to cause his cock to lurch once more causing a spray of pre to arc across the lobby. Corbin had pulled his jogging shorts completely off. Corbin’s own impressive rod was flying free for all to see and standing completely at attention! It seemed that Corbin was almost as hot and bothered as Dallas was! Just seeing a glimpse of Corbin’s cock was enough to make Dallas want to feel it with his bare hands – to taste it on his tongue! Dallas tried to get up, but he only got so far as propping himself up on his elbows before Corbin chided him playfully. “Ah, ah, ah. Remember. Six feet of separation,” Corbin said with a smirk. Dallas wanted to argue. If Corbin was serious about this social distancing, he’d at least be wearing a mask or something, but as it was, Corbin was now wearing nothing at all! Dallas didn’t have the remaining mental faculties to organize such a complaint though. He was completely at the mercy of his own libido and his lewd neighbor. “That’s right. Just sit back and let me have my fun,” Corbin said with a chuckle. Dallas almost came right then and there just from hearing Corbin’s voice, but he was soon glad he didn’t. Dallas wasn’t sure what he was feeling at first. It felt like some pressure around the opening of his cock followed by pure pleasure pushing into the slit. Dallas was so wracked with bliss that he could barely even focus his eyes, but the brief glimpse of his crush that he caught made it obvious what was going on. Corbin had a hand on either side of Dallas’s fat cock and was rocking his hips back and forth and he rammed his cock deep into Dallas’s own dick. Dallas had long dreamed of having his hot neighbor have his way with him, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined it like this! Dallas could only whine and writhe as the object of his desire fucked his cock as if it was a sopping wet pussy. Dallas could only imagine what it would feel like to have an actual pussy. He doubted it could ever feel as amazing as his dick did in this moment. He wouldn’t trade his massive cock for anything in the world, and that went double now that he knew what Corbin was capable of. Dallas wanted to feel like this forever. He wanted to feel his crush’s thick rod plunging deep into his own colossal cock. He wanted to feel the slap of Corbin’s thighs against the tip of his over-sensitive cock head. He wanted to hear the melodious grunts of Corbin’s ragged breathing as the stud pounded away at Dallas’s pre-drooling slit. Dallas didn’t last much longer. The sensation and the scenario worked together to bring him to climax in record time. Fortunately, it seemed like Corbin was finishing up as well. Corbin rammed his cock in nice and deep one final time and held it there and he grunted and moaned. Dallas could only imagine the torrent of jizz being shot deep into his dick. It was then that the dam broke for Dallas as well. Dallas let out a moan that reverberated through the apartment complex. Cum erupted from his cock and splashed against Corbin’s thighs. Dallas came again and again, completely drenching the object of his desire with spunk with each consecutive shot. Cum oozed down Corbin’s legs and pooled on the carpet. Jizz splashed off of Corbin’s thighs and splattered against the tacky wallpaper, and still Dallas kept cumming. Soon Corbin was spent, but Dallas showed no signs of stopping. Corbin staggered back and braced himself against the wall as he let the warm, thick shots of spunk wash over him. There was no telling how long the two stayed there enjoying the afterglow. Even after Dallas’s cumshots eventually tapered off, the two remained, panting for breath and basking in the euphoria. Eventually it was Corbin who first recovered enough to talk. “When this all blows over, we’ll have to get together for some real fun,” he said with a saucy wink. Dallas could only grunt and nod in reply. He was once again struck by how damn sexy Corbin was. Corbin had always been hot as hell, and somehow seeing him coated in Dallas’s own spunk just seemed to amplify his already astounding allure. Dallas watched as Corbin picked up his drenched jogging clothes and trotted away towards his apartment. Dallas once again admired Corbin’s buff bod. Corbin really had an ass to die for… and did he seem a little bigger than before?